Ganymede

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

[Part Five]

December 31, 1999

We waited for a long while, enjoyed a couple of beers, snacked on honey-roasted cashews, and talked about what it was like to live year-round in the Adirondack Mountains. The year was drawing to a close, a century was winding down, a millennium concluding. It was both an end and a beginning. My marriage was finished. My life had taken a new direction. There was an aura of excitement knowing that I would start my life over again, or if not completely afresh, then so radically changed that it might as well be. Yet, I was also anxious. My decision, rather our decision, had been made for a couple of days by that point. Grant and I would live in the cabin. My wife could have the apartment in New York if she wanted. All I knew was that I never wanted to see her again. I was happier than I had been in many years.

Needless to say, it was a forgone conclusion that Grant and I share the same bed whenever we were alone. At night, he came into my bedroom and took over the left side, my wife's side. That he had done so without needing an invitation, or having any fear of rejection by me merely demonstrated our mutual recognition of the inevitable. He stayed until morning, having spent most of the night, our naked bodies tightly pressed together not unlike a husband and wife whose marriage vows were still fresh. Of course, there would always be a separate bed in the loft for Grant, but that bed would be cold most nights.

As I sat there, vaguely hearing sounds of the boys upstairs, sipping my beer from the bottle, I was uncomfortably aware that the change in my life was both a cause for celebration and regret. My son had also changed. He was no longer an innocent little boy, and in that change alone there was implicit a great step into manhood. I saw my son growing up and becoming even more sexually aware as he started into puberty. It would not be very long before the insidious hormonal changes began.

I mused whenever I saw that video cassette sitting on the coffee table. That video was also part of the change. What I had seen had changed me. I had watched another man making love to his son, just as I made love to Grant. The realm of possibilities had been transformed. My guilt had been diminished. Gary and Brandon had experienced the same thing, found satisfaction, given each other pleasure, shared happiness. The video was the common thread that bound us together. The four of us, two men and two ten year-old-boys, were united. It was us against a hostile world. Together, we could be invincible. We would always be together. Gary and I understood each other. It was more than a simple appreciation of what it was like to love boys rather than women. Certainly, that was part of it, but now we had a common purpose, a single goal.

"So, when did you first know?" Gary said.

My head jerked up, my train of thought interrupted. "Huh?"

"About being interested in boys? When did you know you were a boy lover?"

"Oh? Oh that!" I smiled. "I don't really know, Gary. I think I've always known I was different. I could be around boys all day and never get bored. Just watching them makes me feel good."

"Same here. It's like I'm programmed to B-O-Y. Bastions of youth," Gary joked. "Strange though, when you stop and think about it. I mean, here I am, a grown man, a father, and I think that a boy is the most wonderful thing in the Universe."

I smiled. "Me too. I used to watch movies with Grant, you know the usual boy-dog-have-an-adventure movie, and I would salivate over the boy."

"You too? The nice thing is that now I can watch those movies with Brandon, and we talk about how cute the boy is. We try to guess how big his dick is, or if he's been cut. We both have a thing for David Gallagher as well. You know, the boy who's on Seventh Heaven."

I laughed. "You too? Man, I can't believe this. My wife used to make fun of us, but Grant and I really love that show. The only problem is that he isn't as cute as he was. It's a pity they have to grow up so quickly."

"I have the answer to that," Gary winked. "You live for the moment. You have to take advantage of every minute of every day. Speaking of which, that reminds me."

He stood up and walked across the room. He picked up a small package that was sitting on the table in the hall. He smiled at me as he came back into the room.

"I forgot about this. It's the main reason why I went into town this morning. I ordered it on the Internet." He glanced upwards, towards our unseen but ever-present boys. "Supposed to be a stocking stuffer for Brandon. I guess getting it late is better than never."

"What is it?"

Gary smirked. "The ultimate lube for a boy. We've been using Eros, but it's as expensive as hell, especially when you use as much as we do."

"So Brandon was telling us on way over here. Is it really better?"

"Better than what? A boy is a lot better off with Eros, or something like that, than say Vaseline. We've used K-Y in the past as well, but Brandon needs something that stays slippery longer. I tried a few woman's products as well, but they aren't intended for the back door."

"I can only imagine why," I laughed. "And with more lubrication?"

"That too," Gary answered seriously. "You have to watch the ones with Glycerine. Not only does it taste like crap, but if you're not careful, you can get fungal infections."

"Sounds unpleasant?"

"From what I've heard, it is. I've started buying Bodyglide Classic in the super size bottles. At a hundred bucks a time, plus shipping, I'm beginning to think I need a second job."

"It is expensive," I replied, thinking of how much I had paid for the three tubes of Preparation-H a few days earlier.

Preparation H did the job, but it was not particularly enjoyable. There was the smell for one thing, the greasy residue for another. On the plus side, Grant benefited from the mild analgesic for the soreness afterwards, What Gary was talking about was the 'real thing', lubricants that were intended for sexual use. I had seen them on the display shelf in the pharmacy. I was too embarassed to take it to the check out counter and stand in line.

"The label on the bottle that Brandon showed me looked pretty high-tech," I said.

"Eros? If you think that's high-tech you ought to see Astroglide. They developed it while creating oils for the space shuttle. Your tax dollars at work," Gary quipped. "We tried it once or twice. It's as close to pre-cum as you can get, but it costs even more than the Eros. Luckily you can buy it at Walmart. Mostly we keep it for special occasions."

"How about K-Y?"

"If you have a problem with vaginal dryness, it's probably okay."

I laughed. "That's my wife."

"K-Y will do in a pinch, but take my word for it, what you really need for Grant is not something you'll find at the local drug store. Preparation H is a hell of a lot better than Vaseline. It will get the two of you started, but when you're having regular sex, he needs more lubrication."

"So what's the Christmas present?" I asked as I gestured to the small package that Gary continued to hold as he extolled the virtues of Eros.

"Oh, this?" He grinned. "When we started doing it, I got him some Anal-ese from the Internet. It's got Benzocaine in it so it desensitizes the anus. It makes for greater comfort during penetration. It's great for boys, at least until they get stretched out a bit."

"That sounds like what I need."

"You and me both, at least it was when Brandon and I started doing it. The nice thing is that it also takes the edge off your dick. It's not as sensitive so it takes longer to cum, when you're using it. A couple of times, it's taken me nearly an hour before I shoot. Those long ones are the best fucks we've ever had."

I swallowed. "An hour?"

It was hard to believe that a man could last an hour. My time was measured in minutes. Sometimes it seemed that I was inside Grant for only a few seconds before my ejaculation. In that tight, hot, canal my penis was out of control almost as soon as it was all the way inside. If there was something that could prolong the pleasure, I was more than ready for it.

"Usually not that long," Gary added. "But without it, I'll cum very quickly."

"So you ordered some from the Internet?" I pressed.

"Yeah. And you know the best thing? Brandon loves the cherry flavor."

We laughed together, me imagining some of the ways that a ten-year-old boy could acquire a taste for it, Gary remembering how his son slurped over his penis. Oral sex was something that both boys enjoyed. I was quickly beginning to realize how much better life could be now that we had friends with similar interests.

"So…" Gary said.

He had a long drink, emptying his bottle of beer. He leaned forward and placed it next to the video, and then smiling, picked it up again. For a few seconds he looked at the bottle. Could he actually be thinking what I was thinking? A beer bottle, with its unique shape, could make a serviceable dildo if a man was so inclined. I wondered how far it would go in. I suspected that it would not be long before Grant and I graduated to such toys.

"I really liked that ball-dildo you made for Grant, by the way," Gary said in an off-hand manner.

"Huh? Oh! Oh that!" I knew that I looked sheepish as I tried to smile.

"Yes, that. It was very creative. You could probably make some money selling them on the Internet."

"Somehow I doubt that very much," I replied.

"Don't bet on it. Most of what's out there is just plain boring. They're either pink or black rubber. I've bought a couple of butt plugs for Brandon. He just graduated to the medium size. All of two inches [5 cm] in diameter," Gary added proudly. "It was another stocking stuffer from the Internet. I get hard just thinking about him wearing it."

I grinned back at him. "He was wearing it when he came in."

"Yeah, I was sure he had one in. So did Grant, if I'm not mistaken." Gary smirked. "You can tell from the way they were walking," he explained. " Straight backs, with their little butts pulled in. It's a sure sign that a boy's either been recently fucked or he's been plugged."

"I hadn't noticed. Well, that's not quite true. Grant does walk a bit funny afterwards." I smirked, enjoying my new found freedom. It was very satisfying to be able to talk about it.

"I would have called it bow-legged, and not from riding Moonraker," Gary joked. "You must have a big one, Chris. I bet that dildo you made him helps though, especially if he wears it a lot."

"He was wearing it when we ran into you on the way to picking up Brandon from the airport," I admitted. "He kept it in the whole day, even when he was skiing."

"Wow! So what was it like after you took it out?"

"Man, it was incredible. It was so loose. I mean it was really loose, Gary. My cock just slid right up him with the slightest pressure. He must have orgasmed, hell, at least three or four times. He had one before I even got started."

"I'm impressed. Today's the first time Grant's used a butt plug, isn't it? Other than the one you made, that is?"

I nodded. "Yes. Brandon loaned it to him before we left to come here. I was actually a bit surprised. It looked large, but it went in quite easily. The boys had them in the whole time they were sledding."

"I'm glad. I usually don't let him wear it outside the house. You know, in case it pops out. It's only happened once before, but there's really nothing to hold it in. That cord is one of the things I really liked about the one you made."

"You've seen it?" I asked uncertainly.

"Sure. Grant brought it with him when he stayed the night. He's quite the little exhibitionist. He's even less inhibited than Brandon, if such a thing is possible."

"He showed you?" I asked curiously.

"Oh yeah. He took it out for me. I can still hear those little balls popping out one after the other. I wouldn't mind getting one just like it for Brandon. The leather harness was great. Just the idea of him wearing it in public gives me a big thrill."

"That's the understatement of the year," I agreed. "It's wild, walking about town with him wearing it. We know it's there, but no one else does."

"The sheer naughtiness is awesome."

I nodded. "He's learned to use his muscles to move it around inside him. We were at the cinema a couple of days ago and he did it so much he got off on it."

"You mean the little stud had an orgasm? In the cinema?" Gary asked gleefully.

"Yep," I answered. "It was all I could do to keep him in his seat he was jerking around so much. Later on after the movie finished, we went into the can together."

"Yes?" Gary grinned.

"Do you know what he did? He practically took his jeans off while he was standing at the urinal. One or two of the balls had managed to get out."

"You're joking?"

"No, really." I chuckled. "It wasn't funny at the time, though Gary. He was standing next to me and trying to push them back inside. He should have gone into one of the cubicles to do it. Instead, he stuck his hand down the seat of his pants. Anyway, a man came in and stopped a couple of feet away. I swear he must have seen the leather cord around Grant's waist."

"What happened?"

"Nothing really. I was watching him from the corner of my eye. I'm sure he saw it. Grant just acted as if he was getting rid of a wedgie."

"Some wedgie," Gary said with amusement.

"The man was pretending to straighten his shirt but he was looking right at Grant. I kept smelling him."

For a second Gary looked at me curiously, and then he grinned. "Oh! That smell!"

I grinned back at him. "Yes, that smell. It has to be the nicest smell in the whole world."

"Pure boy! Or maybe I should say, impure boy, because there's only one way you get to smell it."

"It was all over his hands," I added. "Luckily, the man left before I had to say something."

"Very lucky." Gary smiled, suddenly pensive. "It must feel good having those balls moving around inside. It'd be just like having a dick up his butt all day long. Does he sleep with them in there as well?"

I shook my head. "No. At least not while I'm around."

We both laughed. After a minute we stopped and looked at each other.

"I can't believe we're talking like this," I said with relief.

"It's good to have a friend at last. It's a lonely existence otherwise," Gary added. "Where would I get some balls like the ones you used?"

"No idea. They came off a toy thingie. We've had it for ages. I haven't seen them around here."

"Damn, that's a pity. It's ideal. It's far better than those rubber plugs we've been using. It has a kinky touch to it that's a real turn on for me."

"Me too. I'm sure Grant will let Brandon borrow it if he wants. They share just about everything else," I said.

There was another loud laugh from above us. It was followed by some shouts and the sound of bodies jumping up and down on a squeaky bed. Gary and I shared a knowing glance even though we wondered what the two boys were up to.

"It sounds like they're having fun," I observed.

"Our two rambunctious boys are really getting into it by the sound of it. Will you look at the time?"

It was already dark outside. A quick glance at the grandfather clock showed it was nearly six o'clock.

"They didn't feed the horses," Gary said as he inclined his head and stared at the ceiling. He shook his head as if giving up.

"They probably shouldn't go outside after they've had a bath."

"Probably not. Well, I guess I had better get my butt up off the couch and go do it. You want to take a walk down to the barn with me, Chris?"

We pulled on our coats and boots, called out to the boys with instructions to behave themselves (whatever that might mean), and headed off into the snow storm. It was already thick enough to leave white ridges on the fence rails. The snow was falling quickly enough that it would obliterate our footsteps in a matter of minutes. We stomped our way down to the barn.

Inside, it was a long way short of warm, but it was not as cold as it was outside. Out of the wind and with the lights turned on, it was nearly comfortable. Gary headed off to do what farmers do to take care of their animals and I wandered around the barn looking at the odd assortment of tools and equipment that seemed to litter ever available inch.

There were, of course, a number of saddles, including two smaller saddles that belonged to the boys. Brandon's saddle had that 'lived-in' look, yet it still shone from recently applied polish. I fingered the tooled leather of the seat, vaguely fantasizing about the small bottom that fitted ever so neatly into it. It was almost as if the saddle had been sculpted around a boy's anatomy, the slight depressions for the two cheeks of a small firm behind, the polished area immediately behind the saddle horn that shielded his groin. I smiled, imagining what the boys were doing together in the house. Were they still naked? It was very likely. Were they having sex?

It was in that state of mind, partially aroused, engaged in a silent fantasy of the two boys having oral sex, that I found the bridle. It was unlike any that I had ever seen.

"Hey, Gary?" I called out.

"Yeah?" He looked up from the feed bin. "What's up?"

"Not me, that's for sure," I joked. "What's this for?"

"It's a bridle," he said loudly from the other side of the barn.

"Duh, I know that. It's not like any I've seen before."

"I hope not. It's an English style one. It used to belong to my wife. She always rode English style. She was a god-awful rider. She had the bridle to go along with it."

"Weird," I said.

I lifted the bridle off the peg and examined it closer. The harness was nothing out of the ordinary. It was constructed of 5/8 inch [16 mm] leather straps with edges that had been smoothed and finished so as not to abrade the horse's head. It had a rope nose-band for lateral pulling. Over the years the rope had frayed and it needed to be replaced. On the other hand, the leather was well oiled and quite flexible. It was black and still shiny.

"The bit is a Kimberwick," Gary explained as he walked up beside me. "The English sometimes use them for show horses. This one is a lot longer than most of them. It can put a lot of pressure on the animal's tongue if you put the reins in the upper slot."

The bit was made of half-inch [12 mm] diameter stainless steel and had a tongue-shaped appearance. It seemed as if it would be very uncomfortable for the horse's mouth. I touched the protrusion gingerly. It was nearly three inches [7½ cm] long and two inches [5 cm] wide at one end, tapering to a rounded end at the other. It was hinged between two oval-shaped cheeks that were about three inches [7½ cm] in diameter.

"That's what you call a Cathedral," Gary added. "Most of them aren't nearly as pronounced or don't have that to begin with. Usually, they're hinged in the middle."

"Weird," I repeated.

He smiled. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," I answered. "Well, that's not quite true," I added absently.

I breathed out. My mind raced. The more I thought about it, the faster my mind consumed the possibilities. Was it possible? I lifted the bridle up, studying it with more interest.

"Can I have this?" I asked awkwardly.

"Why on earth would you want that damned thing?" Gary replied with surprise. "You certainly don't need it, Chris. A Kimberwick is an extremely severe bit. It's for ass-holes like my ex-wife. It's for people who can't fucking ride and have to result to that level for simple control."

"Do you still need it?"

"Of course not. I should have thrown it in the trash. It sounds like you're losing your mind. You know something, I should have realized what a cruel bitch she was as soon as she bought the damn thing. Her poor horse could hardly breath with that thing stuck in his mouth. It practically gagged him."

"I wasn't thinking of using it on a horse," I said vaguely.

"Huh?" Gary continued to stare at me as if I had lost my mind. "You need some leather for something, Chris?"

"Yes,I do, but I need the bit too."

"I don't mind you having it, except…"

"It's not for a horse," I interrupted. "It's for a boy."

"For Grant?"

Gary looked at me in amazement, his face blank. Slowly, he nodded. While there were no words of explanation, he grasped my intention. He scratched behind his ear thoughtfully, looked at the harness, studied the odd-shaped bit, half-closed his eyes.

"Might work," he offered. "You'd need to replace the nose-band, though. Grant's skinny, but this thing is nowhere near big enough to get around his waist the way it is. Besides, it's pretty well worn out as it is."

"Do you think you could fix it?" I asked.

"Reckon I could. What's he measure around the waist?"

"The last time I measured him, with a full belly he's just under twenty-five inches [63 cm]," I replied.

"Hm… so if we put on a leather strap instead, with a buckle on one end. Let me have a look at it."

I handed over the bridle and Gary carried it across to the work bench. He pulled out a penknife and carefully cut away the rope. He turned back and grinned at me before going to work. He understood what I had in mind. He used two pieces of leather from a belt that he cut in half and trimmed. One end was a brass buckle while the other was punched with holes every inch. He adjusted the length of the straps, trimmed away some more leather so that it could fit into the ring, and proceeded to sew two new loops.

"That's better," Gary said as he finished sewing.

I regarded the modified harness, imagining it in place. It was ideal. I felt a surge of excitement that was immediately tempered by guilt.

"You don't think it's too big?" I asked with growing concern. "I don't want to hurt him."

"You've had two fingers up him before, haven't you Chris?"

"Ah, well… yeah," I admitted.

"How far?"

"Pretty far."

Gary smirked. "Up to the second joint, right?"

I nodded awkwardly. Grant seldom complained with two fingers, but it was no secret that he was getting uncomfortable at that point. He understood the need to stretch that part of him before we had sex. Besides, he enjoyed foreplay as much as I did.

"Then this shouldn't be too much of a problem for him then," he added.

He placed two fingers beside the stainless steel tongue, matching the curvature. As long. Slightly wider at one end. Slightly narrower at the other end. Two fingers up to the knuckles was about right in terms of thickness. It would be tight when it was all the way inside, but not so tight that it would injure him or cause excessive pain. Gary held the harness up before him, studying it as if measuring it against a boy of Grant's stature.

"Won't work," he said flatly.

"Why not?"

"Well look at it. How's he going to put it on for one thing?"

"I guess you have a point. We could put another buckle here," I suggested, touching the forehead band. "And put the head band around his back."

"I think the straps are long enough, but they're easy to adjust. The big problem I see is with the front one. The buckle would be right on his chest. It might scratch him, or you for that matter. How about one of those press and snap things?" Gary suggested. "It would look a bit like a stud."

"I guess. I think I'd rather stay with the buckle, that way we can adjust the size if we need to."

"Good point. That solves part of the problem. But look at this. If you put this behind his neck to hold it in place, what's to stop it from pulling up or being pushed out," he asked as he flicked at the strap that normally would have gone around the horse's neck.

After a moment or two, I nodded. Gary was correct. We both saw the solution at the same time.

"Put a couple of straps back under and around his thighs," I suggested.

"I have an even better idea." Gary smirked. "How kinky do you want this to be, Chris?"

I shrugged. Slowly, I nodded. I had not been thinking of it like that but suddenly I wanted it to be 'kinky'. I wanted it to be very 'kinky'. In fact, if I was honest with myself, that was the only reason for using it in the first place.

"I really don't want to hurt him," I repeated quickly.

"Of course not. If I thought that, you and I wouldn't be standing here in the first place. I've never gone in for any of that masochist stuff. I'd kill any man who hurt a boy like that. There's going to be some pain with anal sex, you know there will be, especially at first. But to deliberately hurt him just to make yourself feel good, that's wrong. Even bondage turns me right off, but a boy who's outfitted like… well, like a hot little sex-god… It's wild. Shit, I could easily get off just thinking about it, Chris."

"So what do you have in mind?" I asked with barely restrained excitement.

Gary pointed to the short shiny metal chains that were attached to the sides of the bit. The chains ended with stainless steel rings that were about an inch [2½ cm] in diameter.

"These," he answered ambiguously. For a moment he looked distant, even angry. "My ex-wife had these fitted to take the reins. She would snap them back against the poor animal's cheeks."

"Not nice," I commented dryly.

"She could be awfully cruel at times. At first I used to give in to whatever she wanted. Then when I stopped, we fought like two banshees."

"So what do you have in mind?" I asked.

"If the chains go underneath him and come up either side of his crotch, then these rings ought to end up somewhere on his belly. And the new straps could go right through the rings to hold it in place."

"Go for it," I said promptly. "I hope it isn't too uncomfortable for him."

Gary gave me a surprised look. "After running around with six balls up his butt, you're worried about this being uncomfortable?"

I smiled. "You have a point there, I guess. But you did say it used to gag your wife's horse?"

"It's not like it's going in Grant's mouth, is it?" He smirked and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "And from what I've heard, after what that boy of your's has had up there during the last week, this is nothing to worry about."

All told, it took another ten minutes before he stepped back from the bench and held up the rebuilt harness. It was an odd looking thing. No longer was it an artifact of a by-gone era, yet, remarkably, its equine function was still possible if the nose-band was appropriately adjusted. Gary handed it to me and I held it out, musing about what it represented.

For the last week I had worried about dominating Grant, about subjecting him to a passive role, about ravaging the barely formed masculinity of a young boy. Now this. This thing was an instrument of control. If he wore it, it would give me authority over him. It was impossible not to feel a sense of triumph. I recognized the inherent privilege. This thing in my hands contained undeniable power, it contained the ability to exert my will over that of another person. The mere thought was titillating. The excitement was overwhelming, an intense arousal that was not too different to what I had experienced that morning in the kitchen when I had glued the colored balls onto the leather cord.

"It looks great. I wonder if it will work," I announced.

"There's only one way to be sure," Gary laughed. "You have to get him to try it on."

"It looks like it'd come all the way up his chest," I observed breathily. "It might even be too big for him."

"Maybe, but if it is, you can always shorten the sides. The good news is that it ought to be big enough for a couple of years. It looks like you just invented the boy-bridle, Chris. You could sell this on the Internet too," he added with a smirk. "It'd sell for three or four times what you'd pay in a tack and saddle shop, maybe more."

I smiled. 'A boy-bridle'. It was kinky. It was crudely sexual. It was bizarre, even grotesque – like the Mapplethorpe photograph of a homosexual with a leather whip inserted in his anus. It was both ingenious and expertly crafted. It was everything I had hoped for.

"It's awesome," I acknowledged at last. I was breathless.

I could easily visualize Grant wearing it. He would wear it, of course. He was like that. Adventurous. Willing to try anything. Accepting the role that was implied by our relationship. He wore the ball-dildo every chance he had. I suspected that this would be no different. The problem was both obvious and unavoidable.

"He'll love it, I know he will, but what about Brandon?" I asked uncertainly. "Won't he want one as well?"

"Probably. However, if I know those boys of ours they'll share it. No, I think I had better make that definitely," Gary reflected. He smiled. "Brandon is starting to get into this weird stuff as well. Do you know what he wanted for Christmas?"

"Huh? A bigger dildo!" I joked.

"Well that too. But there were two things he wanted more than anything else. A ear ring and a pair of leather pants. Talk about a boy coming out," Gary said. "He's a little faggot, just I was at that age. Sometimes, it's as much as I can do to keep up with him."

"I didn't see the ring."

"You will, but not for a couple of days. I haven't gotten around to taking him to the mall yet. He'll probably wear his pants tonight, if the boys get dressed for dinner that is."

We both laughed. As I thought about it, holding that strange looking 'boy-bridle', thinking about the steadily falling snow outside, there was not a reason in the world for the boys to get dressed, at least not until the snow was cleared from the road. We had absolute privacy. The nearest farm was a mile away and Gary had a reputation of being something of a recluse. In fact, even the idea of the boys putting clothes for dinner seemed ridiculous. I looked forward to seeing them naked again, feasting my eyes on young nubile bodies.

"But you've got a point, Chris," Gary added. "Brandon will want one. It's a pity there's only the one. A regular bit would do about as much good as…"

"So, we fix up something else for him," I offered.

"Any ideas."

I shrugged. "You said the one I made for Grant turned you on?"

"It did a damned sight more than that. I nearly creamed my jeans the first time I saw him wearing it."

I slid my hand in my jacket pocket. It was still there. For no reason I could think of at the time I had placed it there before we left the cabin. My fingers fondled six little polished balls and the leather cord. I lifted the dildo out and offered it to Gary.

"Man, that's the hottest thing I've seen in a long while." Gary took a deep breath. "Just thinking about Brandon wearing that makes me horny as hell. Grant too, for that matter. When he took it out, I nearly came right then."

"I don't suppose you have another bridle lying around?" I suggested.

"Another bridle? Not one with a solid bit in it. Personally, I've always thought using a metal bit was a sign of a bad rider. That's why I encourage the boys to use a halter. They'll end up much better riders. Anyway, I've gotten so I can't stand the things. I've got one or two around here somewhere with a chain-bit."

"Ideal," I said. We just fasten the balls to the middle of the chain, change the harness like we did with this one, and…"

"Perfect," Gary interjected jovially.

It took him a few minutes to find a bridle with a chain bit. Unlike the first one, the leather was newer and tan-brown in color. Also, it lacked the chain extensions to connect the reins.

"What can we use to hold it down?" I asked. "If we don't tie the cord properly, we've found that the balls will pop out. The more he moves around, the more likely it is. It might take a while but eventually they'l slip out."

It had happened only once. Just one time was enough. We were lucky. I smiled.

"A couple of leather straps might work," I added.

Gary thought about it. "Maybe. Only the leather straps might pinch his nuts. If he's hurt by it, it rather defeats the purpose."

"You're orobably right," I agreed.

"I know. We make our own chains!" Gary exclaimed brightly. He pointed at the metal cheeks. "Going from here, from where the reins attach. I've got just the thing somewhere around here."

He reached up to a line of pegs above the work bench. It took a moment to find what he was looking for. He lifted off a chain with rings attached to either end. At one time it had been part of the tack for a team of plough horses. It was made of steel and had been worn very smooth by years of use.

"If we cut it in half," Gary said thoughtfully, "and close the links again…"

He set to work again. This bridle took longer to fabricate because of the chains, but by the time he had finished, the modification looked very professional. He grinned at me, held it up, obviously fantasizing about his son's body strapped into the leather and steel harness.

"Do you think it's wrong?" he asked awkwardly. "I mean, it's pretty kinky and all. They're still kids. Maybe it's too weird?"

I nodded thoughtfully. "It is weird, Gary, but it's not like we're going to force the boys to wear them. It's totally up to them. Besides, being kinky doesn't have anything to do with pain."

"True. I know my boy will be into it. In fact, it was Brandon's idea to get a dildo," Gary mused. "Sure, I showed him one on the Internet, so I guess I planted the idea in his mind, but he asked for it. I agreed only because I wanted him to loosen up. The whole point was for it would stop hurting when we put my dick in him."

"Same here. When I realized that Grant needed to be loosened a bit so he could enjoy it, I figured it out. Necessity is the mother of invention, after all," I added.

Gary laughed. "Boy virgins are like that. Brandon was as tight as they come for the first week or two. But boys aren't tight for long, not if they have men like us around. I have to tell you, Chris, it's even more fun now. It's a nice feeling, having Brandon stretched out a bit with a dildo before I start. My cock just slides right on in there. Before you know it, you're balls-deep and he's hot for some real action."

"So I found out. Do you think they'll go for it?" I asked.

"Probably. They've taken to dildos like a duck to water. I guess I'm just worried about the weirdness factor with the leather harnesses and all."

"Me too," I admitted. "Let's just play it by ear and see what happens."

We trudged through nearly a foot [30 cm] of snow on the way back to the house. The wind had increased in strength and snow was being driven nearly parallel to the ground. Drifts had started to form wherever the velocity decreased slightly. I did not need Gary to tell me that we were in the middle of a blizzard. With luck, we would be snowed in for a couple of days. Unless there was some emergency that provided a reason to fit the snow plow to the front of his pick-up truck, Grant and I would be house guests of the Bowmans for the foreseeable future.

Back inside the house, with our snow-crusted boots and jackets off, Gary and I returned to our places in front of the fire. A few more logs and a couple of pokes with the iron, and there was a good blaze going. We settled back into our seats, and then, without realizing, we both looked at each other. He smiled. I smiled. And then we started to laugh. We laughed and laughed, dispersing years of half-formed friendship, bonding afresh.

"Man!" Gary exclaimed. "It's like being a kid and living my life all over again."

"Yeah," I agreed breathlessly. "I'm glad, Gary. I was so worried… you know about being like this. I never thought anyone else could be same way."

"There are lots of us," he explained. "I'll show you what I'm talking about later on. There are even help groups for people like us."

"You mean like Boy-lovers Anonymous?"

"Well, most of them are anonymous, for good reason. I've found a lot of friends on the Internet. Lucky for me, I guess. Because before you came along, I was god-awful lonely. I had feelings for Brandon, and I wanted to do things with him, but I was really into self-hatred. I tried to hide it from myself but I always ended up jacking off while I fantasized about him and Grant."

"I know that feeling," I said awkwardly. "I used to have a book of drawings from the Nineteenth Century, until my wife found them."

"Boys?"

"Mostly. There were a few girls in it, not that it made any difference. She was as pissed as I've ever seen her."

"She didn't buy the line about them being artistic?" Gary joked.

I would never forget her response, the invective launched even before I had gotten out a few words of explanation. 'Pervert'. 'Disgusting'. 'Sick'. Words I would never forget. The look on her face. Was that when I stopped loving her? Had I ever really loved her?

I shook my head slowly. "I was scared, Gary," I admitted slowly. "Until I met you. When you started talking about when you were a boy, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. There was a light at the end of the tunnel."

"Wait until I get you with the help groups," Gary teased. "Mostly they're men, but there are even a few boys. It's like a big family."

"Does Brandon?…" I began.

"Sure. I watch him like a hawk when he's on-line, needless to say. It's good for him to share experiences. Of course, now with Grant around, he won't feel the need as much to talk with other boys."

I nodded again. The best thing for the two boys would be for them to grow up together. There was the problem of school. From what I had heard, Brandon's school life was not a particularly enjoyable experience.

"About school?" I started.

"That's my biggest single problem, Chris. It really is. He hates it there and the ride takes forever. He's not being challenged, and so far there's nothing I've seen of the middle-school teachers that makes me think it will change. I've thought about private school, but the nearest one is too far for him to travel to everyday. Boarding school is out of the question, for obvious reasons."

"You said something once…" I paused. Had he been making an offer then? Had he known then? "About home-schooling?"

"Sure. It's really the best choice in these parts. A lot of families are doing it. I already have my certification to teach Math and Science at high school, so I would have a good start. Of course, my English leaves a lot to be desired. I could probably get through the other subjects easily enough, and English too, if I had to."

"Hm…"

I looked at my hands consciously. Hands that wrote on a daily basis. My hands were unlike Gary's work-roughened hands. Not that I was afraid of physical work, in fact I was beginning to relish the exercise and satisfaction that would come from working on the farm. We had different skills and abilities, and we also had a great deal in common.

Suddenly, I was aware of the noise coming from the floor above me. It had been there since we had returned from the barn. Music. The rhythmic sound of feet moving on the floor had become louder.

"They're dancing?" I asked curiously.

Gary shrugged. "Sure sounds like it. Brandon got a boom-box from his mother for Christmas. I know she got it for him because she thought it would drive me crazy."

"You really don't like her very much, do you?"

"Like her? I hate her. She's a bitch, Chris. A cruel mean bitch. What's worse, I think she's figured Brandon out by now. That's the reason why she won't intervene when the step-kids make fun of him. She wants to hurt him."

"You mean that he's gay?"

"Yeah. Not that it's all that hard to figure out. Brandon goes out of his way to send a message. It's part of the school problem. He's been in a few fights."

"Shit!"

"You got it. I expect Grant will be guilty by association, even if he doesn't flaunt it like Brandon has been doing lately."

"Why does it have to be that way?" I asked sadly. "It's difficult enough being gay. Why do other kids have to torment them?"

"I don't know. I've heard stories from my Net friends about boys being suicidal because of it."

"About school…"

I paused, unsure of myself, of whether I wanted to make a suggestion, an offer that might be accepted. Did I really want to do what I was thinking? Individually, home-schooling would be difficult, but together? Before I could think twice about it, the words were out of my mouth.

"I have an idea," I blurted out.

"Yes?" Gary prompted.

I sat there with an uncertain look for several seconds. "You teach the Math and Science, Gary, and I'll do the rest."

There! It was done. Gary regarded me, his eyes questioning to see if I meant what I said. He knew enough of my background to realize that it would not only work, but together, we would provide an education for our sons that was better than any public school could offer. He nodded slowly, accepting my offer.

"Okay, except we'll have to share the health class, especially the sex parts," he said agreeably. He grinned. "I've always thought that hands-on instruction is the best way to learn that stuff. We might be a tad biased compared to what they'll learn in a regular school."

I laughed. "Biased? Yes, it guess so. It'd be a waste of time teaching them about reproduction."

"Not something they'll need to know, that's for sure."

"So, it's a deal." I thought for a moment. "Assuming the boys think it's a good idea."

"What makes you think they won't? It's a fantastic idea. It'll be like no school that's ever existed, Chris. We can do something really special. We could even base it on Ancient Greece, with lessons outside in good weather, with the boys nude, and trips whenever we want, and there's the Internet, and…"

"Okay, enough already," I interrupted.

Gary laughed. "It'll be the best thing that ever happened to them, Chris. And us too, for that matter," he added happily. "And with the two farms, we'll have plenty to do when they're not in school. It'll be like early retirement."

He was excited and his excitement was infectious. We began to make plans, always with the proviso that the boys agreed. It was all I could do to stop him from developing a curriculum right there and then. Instead we talked principles, goals and desired outcomes, about what a well educated person should know and be able to do. If ever there was a chance to affect young lives for the better this was it. We could tailor their education to meet their needs and interests. We could provide a learning environment and challenge the boys in ways that school teachers could not.

The music suddenly became louder. Booming out of a boom-box, the way it was intended to be used with rich bass notes and vibrant treble. It was loud enough to make the plaster walls vibrate. Both Gary and I sat forward and looked towards the hall, towards the source of the pounding rhythm.

On cue, the boys appeared from either side of the doorway, stepping into the opening, joining hands, faces beaming with joyful yet mysterious smiles. I found myself grinning. They were not naked, not by a long shot, but they might as well have been. They were dressed outrageously. Grant was wearing a pair of black jeans that had been borrowed for the occasion while Brandon was wearing his new leather pants. He wore them to great advantage, the leather clinging to his slender legs and enhancing his natural shape. Above, the boys wore white dress shirts with button-down collars, but dress shirts were never intended to be worn this way. The sleeves were rolled up. The fronts open, and had been tied behind to keep them that way. The result was eye-opening, erotic, sensual.

From where I sat, I could see Grant's belly from a few inches above his groin all the way to his neck. His belly rippled with the firm contour of muscles, his chest defined by the pronounced lines of his ribs, even his nipples stood out. Erect and painted. Tiny circles of red. Little black dots in the very center. Brandon was the same. His navel not as pronounced, inward, rather than outward. My penis strained into my jeans, slobbering pre-seminal fluid even as my heart throbbed with the music.

Simultaneously, the boys stepped forward, still holding hands, strutting several paces with exaggerated motion before they stopped, now only a few feet away. With perfect timing, the music changed to become more dynamic, louder, faster, the beat more pronounced. Together they started to sway their slim hips, rotating young pelvises in a way that would have made Elvis proud.

It was like watching… I don't know what. I felt myself breathing deeply. I was turned on. My heart was pounding. The boys were into it. So was Gary. His eyes were all but glazed over. I licked my lips. Hungrily. Each breath increasingly difficult. Impossible to look away. Such lithe beautiful bodies. Such muscular control. Such nice bulges in their crotches. Boys, no wonder we loved them.

The energy was abundant and it was released joyously in that flagrant display of sexuality. That was what it was. They had practiced until they had it down perfectly. And the movement of their hips? Swaying, jerking, thrusting. I tried to focus on Grant's navel, jumping, jerking, around and around, back and forth. Arms and legs moving frenetically. Having imitated sex with himself. With Brandon. Rhythm pulsating, powerful, potent. I was being carried along, swept into the dance, no longer a voyeur. Grant's hands extended, beckoning crudely, grinning lasciviously, inviting me to join him, join with him, copulate right there on the floor. And then it stopped. They smirked, exchanged a single glance. Both hands, four little hands moved down, both boys showing off, arching their bodies, cupping their crotches, presenting themselves for inspection. Their bulges were noticeably bigger than when they had started.

"Look at those belly buttons," Gary quipped teasingly. "They look good enough to nibble on."

"Okay, you take the belly buttons and I'll nibble on those nipples," I laughed.

The boys giggled.

"What did you use? Did you paint them on, Brandon?" Gary inquired.

"I used my markers."

"The waterproof ones?" Gary asked. Brandon nodded slightly. "But they're permanent, you dodo. It doesn't wash off."

"So?" Brandon shrugged. "We don't care, do we Gee-Tee? Anyway, it'll wear off eventually, Dad, because it does when I get it on my hands."

"Cool, huh Dad?" Grant asked teasingly.

"Very cool. I almost lost it in my jeans," I laughed.

Brandon smirked. "So did my dad. We aren't finished yet, are we, Gee-tee?"

With that their hands moved again, from either side of their little boy-mounds, deliciously rounded places of sensitive flesh, sliding upward. Little fingers found and tugged at zippers, dragging them down. The metallic sound filled the room. Then the fingers parted and exposed. My eyes opened wide. Neither of the boys was wearing underpants. Bare smooth flesh. Hard flesh poking out through now opened silver-edged slits. It was time to breath again. Gary had assured me that they would be creative, but it was hard to believe that this was really happening. Two erections. One, short and squat, ending with a little purple-red acorn, a fire helmet. The other, longer and thinner, ending with a tapered hose, a penis that swelled slightly as the light-brown skin passed over a still-hidden head.

"That's what I call a sight for sore eyes," I sighed.

"The Chippendiddy's probably don't do that," Gary laughed. "But they should."

Not understanding, I glanced at him quickly. It was all I was prepared to do given what was right before me. I was staring fixedly, taking in their perfect beauty almost as if I was seeing their penises for the first time.

Gary smirked. "The Chippys? You have a lot of catching up to do, Chris. They're a dance group from England. They flash their bellies just like these two just did. They wear tight pants and really flaunt the interesting parts without actually showing anything. It's all very sexy. I can get off just watching them."

"You've seen them?" I asked.

"He downloads videos from the Internet," Brandon interjected with a playful smirk. "And then he jacks off watching them."

I raised my eyebrows, wide. Gary blushed slightly and shrugged with pretended nonchalance.

"Now I can watch you and Grant dance instead," Gary laughed. "This way I get to see real live belly buttons."

The two boys shared a knowing smile. "While you jack off?" Brandon teased.

"Maybe." Gary winked meaningfully. "It depends on what I get to see."

"Um… Like… what do you want to see?" Grant asked.

"Everything."

Again the boys glanced at each other. All it took was one brief look to know what was going through their minds. Perhaps it was all part of their plan. Perhaps is was spontaneous. Brandon all but skipped out of the room. A moment later the music started again. This time it was slower, not as loud, a tribal rhythm that could have been ancient in origin.

They started to sway, wriggling their hips like women in a mating ritual. My eyes were glued to Grant, disbelieving again, watching his penis bobbing up and down. He was parodying intercourse, thrusting into an invisible hole, pumping with his thighs and buttocks as his pelvis oscillated sensuously. Again, breathing became a deliberate act. My penis felt like it was ready to burst, not from ejaculation, but high blood pressure.

They had obviously spent a lot of time practicing. They had to have done that given their timing, the attention to detail, the need to synchronize. With nothing to show it was planned who would go first, Brandon slid behind Grant. They continued to dance, the boy in front obscuring the boy behind. Then suddenly, Grant's shirt came loose, untied. For a few seconds it hung from his shoulders, completely exposing his front. Slowly, as he writhed and twisted, the shirt slid down his arms and dropped to the floor. There were no cat-calls, just two men sitting forward, breathing heavily. Grant smiled gleefully, still moving his body in time to the music. His hands eased up, following the lean contour of his lithe torso until his fingertips plucked at his painted nipples.

"Wow!" I breathed.

No strip-tease artist could have done that and had the same effect on me. My testicles tightened, overloading with adrenaline, desperately fighting what was imminent. I was going to ejaculate and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Well, there was one thing I could do. I thought about my wife. Immediate relief. I sighed, wondering if I should close my eyes. Too much was happening. Somehow, in the few seconds it had taken to occlude orgasm, the boys had changed position. Now, it was Grant who was undressing Brandon.

Brandon, bless his heart, couldn't stop giggling, so his dance was inherently less erotic. It was anything but innocent. Then,before I was ready, both boys were bare from the waist up, dancing face to face and barely inches apart. They were practically rubbing their genitals together. Glistening tiny beads of perspiration flecked their chests and backs. Grant's hands dropped down between them and he fumbled for a few seconds to unfasten the metal button at the top of Brandon's leather pants. With the zipper already open, and without underpants of any kind, there was very little to hold the pants onto the wriggling boy. They dropped a few inches, restrained only by his buttocks. That was sufficient to create an urgency to finish. Brandon reciprocated, taking even longer because his hands had to constantly grab at his pants to stop them from sliding further.

Then, visibly ready for the final act, they turned to face us. They smiled gleefully, fully aware of the effect they were having on the two men before them. Open-fronted, hard penises projecting proudly through an exposed 'V', pale flesh vividly contrasting with black. They swayed together, reaching their arms up behind their heads to stretch their bellies and chests into that taut form of ribs and muscles that is a pre-pubescent boy. Slowly, their pants descended. A wriggle here, an exaggerated thrust there, a shake to encourage their pants to drop. Thighs, knees, legs, until only their ankles were covered. Both of us, grown men sitting side by side, watching the two of them, their flat brown bellies quivering, muscles rippling, stubby penises jumping up and down excitedly as they continued to simulate sexual ecstasy. The strip show was over but I had an unnerving premonition that the fun had only just begun.

"Bravo!" I cheered as they stepped out of the bunched up material at their feet.

"Awesome! Totally awesome! Absolutely fantastic!" Gary added with unrestrained gusto.

"Next time you guys do something like this, will you do me a favor and warn me first. Please?" I laughed.

"Why?" Grant asked uncertainly.

"So he can bring some Vaseline and a handful of tissues, of course," Gary guffawed. "He almost lost there for a minute."

"Dad!"

"It's true," I admitted shamelessly. "It was all I could do not to cum in my jeans."

"You're gross," Grant giggled.

I laughed. "And you love it."

Grant shrugged, pretending disinterest. After a moment he smiled, shyly, teasingly, very much a boy. "So, now we're naked?"

"Yeah, it sure looks that way to me," I answered playfully. "I can see two bald little dicks staring at me."

"Two of the cutest dicks I've ever seen, that's for sure," Gary added. "Do you want to show them what we made in the barn?"

"Sure. Who goes first?"

"What are you guys talking about?" Grant asked.

"A surprise. Why don't we give them to the boys at the same time?"

I nodded and reached behind me. Gary did the same thing. I proudly held out the bridle. It took a few seconds for the look on Grant's face to change. I expected to see surprise, excitement, perhaps even confusion. He could hardly be expected to understand what the harness of leather and metal was intended for, not at ten years old. I didn't expect to see anger. He took it in his hands, looking down, strangely inclining his head. His eyes fluttered, blinking, hands clenching on the shiny black leather. I saw rejection and dismay.

"How… how could you, Dad? It's cruel! I'll never use it. It's disgusting!"

My mouth dropped open. I gaped at him. What was wrong?

"It's not for Moonraker, you dummy," Brandon interjected. He grinned. "It isn't what you think it is."

"It's a bridle! It's got one of those bits in it, like your dad showed us in the barn, the type that makes a horse's mouth bleed."

"You're right in part. It's kind of a bridle," I said awkwardly. "But not for a horse."

"Huh?"

"It's for you," Brandon continued. "See, look at mine."

He held the harness up that Gary had given to him. The six red balls hung down from the chain, clinking against a metal ring.

"What?" Grant asked curiously. "What is it? Why's my thing on it?"

I smiled at Gary. "Well, it's kind of like a harness we made to hold it in place. It's for a boy, not for a horse."

Grant giggled. "It's a dildo harness."

"Yeah, you might call it that," Gary said. "We've taken to calling it a boy-bridle."

"Can we try them on?" Brandon asked enthusiastically.

"I don't see why not."

I reached out and took Grant's hand. He was still resistant, yet his reluctance was quickly evaporating. A slight pull was all that it took to draw him closer, until he stood before my knees. He was suddenly smiling, somewhat abashed at his outburst.

"Hm…" I mused.

I stroked his smooth lean thighs. When I stopped to think about it, their dance had been somewhat awkward, awkward beyond exhibiting themselves, awkward beyond unfamiliarity with the gyrations of their dance. I could think of only one explanation.

"Is there anything inside you that we need to get out first?" I asked.

Grant grinned down at me, his eyes answering instead of words. Slowly, he turned around and placed his hands on his rounded cheeks, splitting his buttocks apart. There was a vivid red hemisphere bulging out where the small dimple of his anus should have been. Except for the color and smooth surface, what I saw looked like half a golf-ball, shiny, obviously greasy. For a moment, I was dumbfounded.

"I thought it was pink," I said at last.

"This is the other one, Dad. The big one," Grant giggled over his shoulder. "Brandon's got the cone-shaped one."

"I told you they shared everything," Gary announced gleefully.

"Yeah, so I see. Sharing tooth brushes is one thing," I chortled. I flipped my finger at the hard object. It sounded both well cushioned and hollow. "You've got to admit that this is a bit different to a tooth brush."

"Not at all. I don't see any difference in them swapping dildos," Gary replied in mock seriousness. "I bet they didn't even wash them off before they swapped 'em."

The boys looked at each other sheepishly. It was impossible not to laugh. They probably needed a lecture on personal hygiene at some point in the near future, but now was not the time. I doubted that what they had done would hurt them beyond the obvious. Sooner or later they would have to worry about disease, but not yet. Privately, I hoped that they would never need to use condoms.

"I thought not," Gary chuckled when the boys remained guiltily silent. "Mouths or butts, it makes no difference to our boys. They're just different holes. They share everything else."

I might have said the same thing. Instead, holding my laughter to a barely controllable level was all that I could do. By the time the night was over, the boys would have shared more than dildos and toothbrushes.

Putting that thought aside, interesting though it was, I concentrated on removing the dildo from Grant's body. It wasn't an onerous task. His body smelled clean and fresh. However, it wasn't easy. First, because it was slippery and hard to get hold of. Second, because of the dumb-bell shape, it wanted to stay there. It had been much easier for Brandon to remove it, but then, he had a lot more experience. He knew how to use his inner muscles to push it out. It took nearly a minute of me pulling and Grant pushing with all his might to dislodge it. Finally, it passed through the tight throat of his anus and dropped into my hand. I parted his cheeks far enough to see his anus. The rim was reddened and distended, opening into a dark tube that glistened with shiny residue. I wondered how the boys had managed to get it inside in the first place. Sitting down on it was the only logical explanation. How long my son's anus had been subjected to the increased dilation? How ever long it had been, the result was awe-inspiring. His anus was wide open.

"Okay," I said with relief. "Let's try this on for size. Turn around Grant, so I can see what I'm doing."

I started by holding the harness against his body to check the length. It was fairly close, but it was larger than it needed to be to fit over his compact torso. Then, pressing the steel tongue carefully between his cheeks, making sure it was centered in the right place, I pressed home. Grant winced in surprise. Cold hard metal entered him. Not all the way, of course, but far enough that it pushed into his inner sphincter. It stopped where his rectum started.

"Does it hurt?" I asked with immediate concern.

"'s cold," he complained.

"Sorry about that," I answered awkwardly. My hand trembled. Was it hurting him? The metal tongue was unyielding, cold, inhuman.

"Do you want me to take it out?" I asked nervously.

"No. It's okay, Dad. You can push it in a bit further."

"Are you sure?"

"I said so, didn't I?"

I took a deep breath. My excitement was overpowering. From the unconscious trembling in the boy standing before me, I expected that he was feeling the same way. His hands closed, forming little fists as I pressed gently against the metal bit. It slid in further, still not all the way, but now breaching that small portal. He shuddered. His anus was being stretched, pulled apart by a wedge of half-inch [12 mm] thick steel.

"Okay?" I asked anxiously.

Grant nodded slightly, shifting on his feet, moving awkwardly as he felt it levering his buttocks apart, reaching into his innards. I held my hand still. He trembled, trying to accommodate the rigid thickness. He glanced over his shoulder, tried to look down.

"Nearly in," I said gently.

I pushed again, pushed harder, realized that the bar was pressed tightly against his cheeks. It could go no further. His cheeks swelled slightly where they had been displaced. His anus was distorted, forced into a flattened oval, two inches [5 cm] across. The anal lip, red-rimmed, very thin, no longer showing any sign of a pucker, was stretched tightly, curling inward in the center as it tried to close the opening. The two metal rings on either side of the mouth-bit were hinged. They adapted perfectly to Grant's shape, lying against the smooth roundness of his buttocks as if they had always been intended to be that way.

"Does it hurt?"

"It's pushing into my thing, Dad," Grant answered huskily.

His thing? He shuddered, pulling away slightly before he pushed back. Was it that far inside him? Three inches [7½ cm]. Just three inches, but it was far enough to reach his 'special place'. I swallowed, risked a quick glance towards Gary and Brandon. They were busily engaged in their own activity, inserting the last two balls. I heard Brandon gasp when another one entered. I looked back at Grant, back at the distended hole, seeing inside. It was not the first time that I had looked into his bowels, yet it still affected me. I felt a surge, a thrill, raw, intense, outrageous. This was the place that held me, contained my penis, made love to me. My son shuddered again.

"You okay?" I asked quickly.

He nodded awkwardly. It was like having sex, having my penis lodged inside him, feeling the demanding power of it as it penetrated him, claimed him, owned him. Now, this metal thing possessed him. I breathed out, ready to harness him.

"How does it feel?"

"Okay. It hurts a little, but it's not bothering me. It kinda feels good too. It's a bit like when you put two fingers in me and pull to the sides."

"Put your hand on it to hold it in," I instructed.

He complied. He turned sideways when I guided him, looked down at me, meeting my eyes with a shy approving smile. That his penis was erect undoubtedly helped to overcome any reluctance on my part to finish what I had started. He was into it as much as I was.

The next thing I had to do was to fit the belt around his waist. For the first time, without experience, it was really a job for four hands rather than two. I lifted the two short shiny chains up from underneath him, placing them on either side of his penis and scrotum, following the warm furrow of his thigh. I held them there with one hand while I brought the belt from behind him. It was difficult to pass the buckle through the metal ring using one hand, but once that was done the worst would be over. After two attempts I gave up. The solution was obvious. I lifted the harness up his chest and buckled the neck-strap behind Grant's neck so that it could no longer fall down. It was several inches too long. I could adjust the length later on. Then I turned my attention to the waist belt again.

It needed a smaller buckle or a bigger ring on the chain, that much was obvious. After another attempt, I succeeded. A moment later and I had the belt together and buckled tightly enough that the mouth-bit was fixed in place. No matter how hard Grant tried, it could not be pushed or pulled out. I took a deep breath. By this point my hands were clammy and shaking. The arousal I had experienced over the last few minutes was enough to incite orgasm in an ordained minister. Grant was similarly agitated. His penis was fully erect, achieving a degree of stiffness that was awe-inspiring. His penis had a dull sheen so tightly was the skin stretched over the shaft. Even his foreskin had retracted partially, exposing a reddened tip that was usually hidden within. I could not remember his penis being so stiff.

I chanced another look to the side. Gary and Brandon were going through the same exercise that we had just gone through. I felt another urgent thrill, the renewed pangs of hunger for the slim boy who stood beside my son.

"How does it feel now?" I asked Grant.

"Good."

Good? Again, overwhelming sensations were reduced to a single, nearly nondescript word. 'Good'. He was smiling the smile that I knew so well. We both understood. What he was feeling was much better than 'good'. I reached up eagerly. It was time to finish the job. I shortened the side straps on both sides of his chest by two holes. All but the last strap were tight. The side straps of the harness passed on either side of his body, going from buttock to breast. Entirely by accident, the metal rings were positioned directly over his nipples. Dead center. Black dot, red circle, silver ring. I swallowed. Even if we had measured him in advance, the fit could not have been better. With nervous hands, I completed the last buckle on his chest. I took a deep long breath and let out a sigh. It was perfect. I swallowed, slowly looking up to Grant's face. His eyes were closed. He appeared to be concentrating, summoning all of his energy for some physical feat, straining internal muscles, fighting an inevitable, invisible flood.

I glanced down. His penis was straining, reddened, as hard as the metal tongue that pierced his anus. Twisting, tiny blue veins had swollen, become darker. His testicles had contracted, shrinking into a barely noticeable lump on the underside of his penis. When he was cold or sexually excited, like all boys, his testicles pulled up and his scrotum shrivelled, but this was different. The only sign that he had anything there at all was a small swelling formed by dark wrinkled skin.

My hand settled over his penis. Hot to touch. Hard. Harder than I had ever seen it. Harder than it had ever been. Pulsing. Erratic breathing. Gasping. Stroking him. Once. Twice. Rigid within. It was like a little steel spike that was slightly curved and spongy-soft on the underside.

"N-n-n-g-g-g-g-g-g!"

I took my hand away the instant that he spasmed. His body arched, became a bow of bone and sinew, muscles pulled back and ready to release a penis that protruded like a stubby little arrow. His head jerked wildly, his neck yanking against the harness. His penis jerked at the same time. He gasped. Shuddered. Then, shaking, giving powerful lurches that dragged at the harness around his chest and waist. His penis jerked again, convulsed, stabbing into the air as he trembled. Five times. Six times. Ejaculating nothing despite his frenzied movement. He slumped back, finished. I felt helpless. I felt incredible power. I had done this.

It was a momentary hiatus. His fingers and toes twitched unconsciously. His head kept jerking back and forth, pulling on the straps of the harness. Suddenly, the crescendo came, again. Bursting out of him. A half-a-dozen more little lurches, yielding nothing except the awesome joy of knowing he had climaxed again. His head tossed, threw back, dragged the harness upward, pulled the tongue deeply into him. Quaking with a final spasm. He slumped again, dropping down as his control was lost. I reached out, grasping his hips, clutching at the strap of his harness to stop him from falling. He sagged down, lapsing into post-orgasmic paralysis. If I had not held him firmly he would have fallen to the floor.

I risked a quick look to the side. They were watching, just as I thought they would be. Brandon was wide-eyed, also harnessed. Gary was slightly bemused. I smiled back at him, wondering why Brandon's penis was still limp when Grant had responded sexually, achieved such a stupendous climax that it took my breath away.

"Wh-wh-hat happened?" Grant asked groggily.

"Um… I think you blacked out for a second," Gary said before I could speak.

"Huh…"

"I've never saw a boy cum like that," Gary added. "That sure was one hell of a good one."

Grant regarded Gary uncertainly. He still trembled every few seconds. His hands were still clenched. He glanced at me blankly, not understanding. Brandon giggled at his best friend's discomfiture.

"You came twice, Grant. One right on top of the other. You must have been really close to it. I barely touched your dick and you went wild."

He smiled weakly. "I feel strange, Dad. It's like I'm shaking all over."

"How? Does it hurt?"

"No. I just can't stop shaking."

"That's okay. I'm sure it'll stop in a while."

"I feel weak."

"Maybe you better sit down for a while," I suggested.

I took his hand in mine and gave a slight tug to bring him forward. He moved awkwardly, still distraught, still uncertain, very aware of the thing within his body. It took a few moments before he slowly settled onto the couch.

"Okay?" I asked worriedly.

Grant nodded, lowering his eyes, studying his genitals. His penis and testicles were framed by the metal chains, the silver links pressing into his little pink scrotum.

"Weird," he commented in a soft, still shocked voice.

"Huh?"

"It looks weird, Dad."

"Do you like it?" I asked.

"It's awesome." He hesitated. "It makes my dick look…" He shrugged, unable to think of the word he needed.

"Kinky?" I suggested.

"Very kinky." Grant turned and smiled at me. "It's cool, Dad. It makes me look…"

"Like a fag," Brandon interjected.

"Yeah, that too…" Grant grinned shamelessly. "Only I was thinking of more like bizarre. It's really sexy, Dad. It makes me feel funny all over. Just wearing it gives me goose bumps."

"So I see," I said.

I ran my hand over his arm. Normally it was as smooth as satin. Grant shivered slightly, wriggled closer, put his hand in my lap. His fingers cupped over my penis, closed into my scrotum. He held me tightly, with the same possessive concentration that followed after we had sex.

"Do you want me to get you off?" he asked quietly.

"Here?"

"Uh huh. Or we could do something else, if you wanted to, Dad?" he offered secretively.

His voice was lowered but it still loud enough for Gary and Brandon to hear. Gary smiled at me, cocking an eyebrow upwards to suggest that we could go upstairs if we needed privacy.

"You little horn-puppy, you," I teased.

"Who me?" Grant giggled.

Gary and I laughed. "Yes, you," I laughed. "If you're not careful you're going to have a sore butt before the end of the year."

"Don't you mean century," Grant corrected.

Gary laughed. "How about millennium? But what a way to end it and start the next one."

Grant smirked at me, then at Gary. "I don't mind."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

Grant shrugged. Sitting there on the couch, naked but for a black leather harness, nipples exaggerated with permanent marker, there was really no answer necessary. He smiled at me, knowingly, acceptingly, and yes, wantonly. That's what we were there for. Both of us knew it. His eyes flickered, communicating what he wanted. It was not a matter of simply going upstairs with me. It did not matter that he had just achieved an orgasm. He was with three people who he loved. When he was with us, there would always be an unsatisfied need, a pent-up desire that longed to find expression. If there was a decsion to be made, then he had made it.

Brandon coughed and awkwardly shuffled his feet. Suddenly, he had become the center of attention.

"Brandon?" Gary began. "Do you want to?"

Brandon turned towards his father, his eyes downcast as he stared at his bare feet. The innocence that should have been in his face was dispelled by the straps of the brown leather harness, polished buckles and chains. It was obvious that he knew what was about to happen, that he had thought about it a lot.

"Brandon, I know this is difficult for you," Gary said a little louder.

I shrugged, trying to look disinterested, like Grant. Brandon shifted from one foot to the other. From the look on his face it was clear that he had a very good idea of what we were talking about.

"It isn't that, Dad."

"Well, what is it then?" Gary asked gently. "They might as well leave now if you're not interested, Brandon."

"I'm not going to leave, and neither is my dad, not yet anyway," Grant replied flatly. "Besides, we can't go. Not with all the snow."

I studied Grant carefully, suddenly seeing him in a different light, remembering his question about whether he would be a lot like Ken Gruen when he grew up. He was growing up even now. He was taking one big step after another. He was dealing with issues that should have waited until he was much older. It was the one thing that I was worried about. His expression was enough to convince me that I need not worry. He was carefree on the surface, but underneath his smooth still-tanned skin he was wise beyond his years. He seemed to have this all figured out.

"I don't want them to leave," Brandon interjected. He took a deep breath, pursed his lips, stared hard at his bare feet.

"You think that Grant and his dad will be better off if they go?" Gary asked gently.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brandon demanded.

There was a moment's silence. Grant looked glum and he sighed loudly. He realized that they were fighting about him, that he was the center of dispute. Like me, he did not understand what the problem was.

"I think you know, Brandon. Are you jealous about Grant being with his Dad?" Gary asked as he watched Grant and me closely. "You are, aren't you, Brandon. I can see it in your face."

Brandon shrugged, trying hard to appear as if he was ambivalent. His reticence was disturbing. I was unsure what the problem was, but one thing was clear. I needed to say something.

"I know things have changed, lots of things have changed in the last few days. It's different now. For one thing, you know that Grant and I love each other, Brandon. I also know that you and your dad love each other the same way that Grant and I love each other. That doesn't mean that you can't love Grant the way you used to."

I glanced at Gary and saw a slight gesture. I took that as meaning that I should continue into the abyss of explaining something that I could not explain to myself.

"A while ago, while you and Grant were upstairs in the bath, I watched a video. I think you know which one," I tried.

From the corner of my eye I observed my son's immediate grin. Brandon wavered. He knew what I was talking about. He licked his lips nervously.

"Yeah. So?"

"So I thought it was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen."

"So?" Brandon said petulantly.

"I wanted to be in your father's place. I wanted it to be me instead of him."

"So? He wants to fuck Grant too," Brandon said cruelly.

"Yes, he told me that. I don't mind. If that's what Grant wants, it's okay by me." I took a deep breath, hoping that I was saying the right thing. "Your dad and I both agree that people should only have sex when they love each other. There's no rule that says you can't love more than one person."

Brandon shrugged, pursed his lips, swallowed. "Maybe," he offered. He rubbed at his chin pensively.

"The reason why I don't mind them having sex is because I'm convinced they love each other," I continued.

Gary and Grant looked long and hard at each other. A person would have to be blind not to see the love they shared.

"The question is what do you want to do?" I asked.

Brandon sniffed, shifted feet again. "I love you. I've wanted to, you know…" He sighed. "I wanted to last night. I wanted to so much that it hurt inside."

"That's okay," Gary said. "I want you to do what you want to do. Remember what I said when we started?"

"I know. I should only do what I want to do," Brandon parroted.

"That's right," I answered. "And the same goes for Grant too."

"You really don't mind if he has sex with my dad?"

"Do you mind?" I asked.

"I asked first."

"If he wants to, it's okay by me," I answered honestly.

Grant smiled at me. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

"Like I said, Brandon, he loves your dad, and your dad loves him back, nearly as much as I do. I don't think of it as having sex, but showing how much they love each other. Now you?" I prompted.

Brandon winced uncomfortably. "You mean about us?"

"Us? I mean you and Grant first," I ascertained.

Brandon nodded slightly, still unable to meet my eyes. "I love him," he said under his breath.

"I know that. I'll never try to stop Grant from loving you, and you from loving him back. You have an important place in his life. Why don't you ask Grant yourself?" I suggested.

Grant nodded slowly. "Why can't we all be friends?"

"I need more than a friend," Brandon said slowly. "It isn't about being friends, and it isn't just about you and your dad, or me and my dad," Brandon said uncertainly.

"It's about all of us," Gary ended.

I sighed. What was the nature of the attraction that brought a man to love a boy? If not for all men, at least for most of men who loved boys, it was something that became very possessive. Until now, I would never be able to share Grant with some other man. However, Gary was not 'some other man'. He loved Grant the same way that I did. In the same way, I hoped that I was not 'some other man' for Brandon. I wanted to be the other special man in his life. There was love between us, there was no question of it. I had loved Brandon for a long while, a very long while. It was not quite the same as the love I had for Grant, but so similar that the differences were either unimportant or would disappear when we shared the same easy familiarity that came from spending ten years together. It was more than finding Brandon looking at me at the same time as I looked at him. When Brandon was older, when our relationship was more secure, I had no doubt that I would love him the same way that I loved Grant.

"We can just be friends with them if you want, Brandon," Gary murmured. "That's quite okay with me. And you can still be with Grant whenever you want. Or we can be more than friends too, if that's what you want."

"It's just that…" Brandon muttered. He stopped and breathed out, slowly shaking his head.

"Is it because I want to have sex with Grant, Brandon, or are you afraid I won't want you after I do? Is that the problem?" Gary asked gently.

"No!"

"If you haven't forgotten, we've talked about you doing it with Chris too. I know you want to."

I glanced quickly at Brandon. He stared at me, his mouth open with the need to say something. He seemed very embarrassed. The words would not come. I smiled at Gary.

"He hasn't forgotten," I said carefully. "Maybe he doesn't want to. He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to do."

"Oh, he wants to all right. I know him. He loves you, Chris. He wants you. A lot," Gary acknowledged.

Again I glanced at Brandon. His nostrils flared and his chest rose up. He breathed heavily, trying to control his emotions. With the slightest push in the wrong direction, even the wrong words, and he would burst into tears. I sighed, remembering glimpses of my fleeting boyhood and the pain of being in love, real love, and being unable to do anything about it. I had suffered because Adam Render was not interested in boys the same way that I was. There was an important difference between Adam and the two boys before me.

"Have you ever told him how much you love him, Chris?" Gary asked quietly.

"No, I really haven't." I swallowed, thinking, wondering what was going through Brandon's mind as he struggled in silence.

"Isn't it about time?" Gary chided. "I've always said that kids need to know they're loved. If they're not loved they make mistakes."

I smiled. "That's true. I tell Grant on a daily basis how much I love him."

Gary laughed. "So why don't you tell Brandon, and while you're at it, Chris, why don't you look him in the eye and tell him how much you want his beautiful little ass?"

I was lost for words for several seconds. "I do love him, Gary," I said humbly. There was dead silence. "I love you Brandon," I said boldly.

"Now the rest of it. Tell him you want to be inside his beautiful little ass every chance you get."

Brandon grinned like a ten-year-old satyr.

I felt the challenge fading before me. It was right for him, just as it was right for Grant. Perhaps it was merely a boy's need to experiment in order to discover how things worked, but it was highly unlikely. We were a long way beyond curiosity. They had the right to make love if they wanted. If I loved Brandon as much as I believed I did, then it was right that we expressed that love in physical ways. I proved my love for Grant that way. Since Christmas Eve I had proved it several times a day. During the last few minutes, my love for Brandon had become equally the most important thing in my life. And with love came responsibility. I would never force him to have sex with me. It had to be on his terms, or not at all.

I looked at Gary guiltily. "I don't have to have sex with him to prove I love him."

"I'd expect that from a woman, not from you," Gary chortled. "You're a boy lover, Chris. God damn it! You're supposed to love boys, not worship them from a distance. You're supposed to make them feel good, and for a boy that means getting your…"

"I know what it means," I said bluntly.

"Now, I know what Grant thinks about you and Brandon getting it off. He thinks it's cool, and it's no secret that Brandon wants you, and of course, you want to have sex with Brandon. So it's really pretty simple, isn't it? When you get right down to it, does it really matter whose butt your cock is in if you love both of them the same?"

I shrugged, trying to avoid answering while I watched Brandon's reaction. He shrugged as well, equally noncommittal.

"Maybe the other question is what Grant thinks about doing it with me. Have you asked him?"

I glanced at Grant. He looked away quickly and stared down at his feet. It was time for honesty.

"You know the rule. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Grant," Gary said as he turned to Grant. "With that said, I'd like it a lot if you had sex with me tonight."

Grant glanced at me again. He was still uncertain, torn between us. Love implied loyalty. What he wanted, denied fidelity, at least on the surface and under the rules that he had grown up with.

"I want both of you to be my friends," he said sadly.

"We need each other, all four of us," Gary said reassuringly. "I was very lucky when I was growing up. Finding out you're gay… well it's a difficult enough stage for a boy to go through. I was lucky that I had friends to share my love with."

"And to have sex with too, as well," Grant added without embarrassment.

Clearly, Gary informed my son about his own sexual exploits when he was a boy. Brandon smiled shyly. The boys looked at each other. Gary nodded.

"If that's what you want, Grant, I certainly won't stand in your way. I hope you know that by now," I said agreeably.

"You don't mind?"

"Truthfully? I was jealous for a while. I wasn't ready to share you. I wanted to keep you all to myself, but not any more."

"I knew you didn't mind about Brandon. You even said it was nice because I'd have someone to play with when I want to be a kid. I thought you'd be angry about Gary."

I wondered what caused the change in me. That Grant wanted to have sex with Brandon's father no longer bothered me. They were already more than friends. They were as close as I was to Brandon. In many ways they were already like father and son. In a sudden insight I began to understand. In order for Grant to love me, I needed to give him the freedom to make his own decisions. Perhaps I would lose him to someone else, even to Gary, but, I could not stand to see Grant hurt because my love imprisoned him. He needed to be free to make his own choices, just as Gary was turning Brandon lose to make his own choice concerning me.

Freedom to choose was essential. In a relationship with a man, a boy was always subordinate. Perhaps it was the result of his submissive role, ever yielding to a man's greater strength and physical demands. I was not domineering by nature, yet in my all-important 'relationship' with Grant I had been dominant.

Despite my words that Grant was an equal partner and he only did what he wanted to do, the reality of man-boy love was something else. He had the right to say 'yes' or 'no'. That was important but the fact remained that he was subservient. For the last week I had known that the relationship was unbalanced. I just had not understood what I needed to do to restore balance. In the ensuing silence, I wondered whether it was any different for Brandon and his father.

"Why don't you mind?" Grant asked softly.

He was speaking only to me, with words from deep in his heart. I smiled, knowing the answer came from deep within my heart.

"Because I know you'll still love me afterwards," I answered confidently.

"I will always love you more, Dad," Grant confirmed quietly. He gazed at me, his eyes wide and honest.

"I know that, Grant. It's a different kind of love between us. Gary can't be your father any more than I can be Brandon's dad. However that doesn't mean that Gary can't love you as much as I do."

Brandon grinned. "I'll always love my dad more too, as well. But I can love other people at the same time. You can love Grant, and you love me. I can love you differently too."

I sighed. At that instant, I knew that what confronted us was much more than a simple one-night swap. It would be more than a single incident, an experiment to see whether another boy was as enjoyable as my own son. I wondered how many times the boys had slept over at each other's house and how many times the dawn had found the two of them in the same bed? That was love too, and it was different yet again. Nature had a remarkable ability to create love whenever and wherever it was needed. Life was never easy, and boy love complicated it beyond comprehension. My eyes looked towards Gary for help. He smiled and inclined his head. We both knew what was going to happen. It was the right decision.

I breathed out heavily, feeling my brow become sweaty with increasing excitement. I glanced at Grant, then at Brandon, then at Gary. We would be able to share something that few people shared. Brandon nodded and smiled. Grant nodded, and grinned. Gary nodded and laughed. I wasn't about to disagree with the majority.

"Okay, so what are we going to do about it?" I finally managed to get out.

Gary laughed. "Nothing right now, that's for sure. Not that I wouldn't like to do something about it becasue I'd love to, but I need to start getting dinner ready. Why don't you and the boys watch a video?" he suggested pointedly.

"Not that one again," Brandon complained. "We've watched it dozens of times already."

The look on my face must have been worth seeing. I thought of the boys sitting on the same couch that I was sitting on, watching the video, then afterwards doing God only knew what. Gary grinned.

"He's exaggerating. He's watched it maybe a dozen times. And Grant's only seen it a grand total of two times."

"What would you guys rather watch?" I asked.

Part of me was hoping that there was another video, perhaps even more than one other. At the same time, it was also disquieting to think that Grant might have a staring role in one of them.

They grinned as only boys can. "We haven't watched Jungle to Jungle in a while," Brandon suggested.

While the boys shuffled through the stack of videos next to the television, I followed Gary into the kitchen. He took two beers out of the refrigerator and pulled the top on one of them after he had passed me the other. I followed suit and we drank together.

"Well, that was easier than I thought it was going to be," I said with relief.

"Brandon's wanted to have sex with you for a while now, Chris. I was surprised out there." He looked over his shoulder. "I guess he got cold feet after what happened two nights ago."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Grant didn't tell you? No, I guess he wouldn't." Gary grimaced. "It was a bit awkward. "He came onto me… wanted to do it, you know."

"You mean he wanted to go all the way?"

"Yeah. I was a bit taken aback. I knew he was interested. Man, I wanted to as well."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story. The boys had been acting strange for a while. Grant was… I guess you'd say 'quiet', at least for him and Brandon was sulky. I thought he was jealous because we had spent a lot of time in the barn so Grant could ride Moonraker. Anyway, we were watching the video."

"The video," I repeated pointedly.

Gary nodded. "Yeah. Well, we were naked and all. It got a bit excited towards the end. Grant was rubbing himself all over me and I was drooling pre-cum all over him. The next thing I know, he's crouched on top of me and he's trying to put my penis inside him."

The image was startling and one that I knew very well.

"Grant, the boy-blanket," I mused.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. It's just a game we play sometimes. So what happened? Did you?"

"No."

"How far have you and Grant?…" I asked.

"I already told you we haven't gone all the way, Chris. I managed to stop myself that time too. Luckily," Gary sighed. He smiled weakly. "I wanted to Chris. I wanted to do it with him so badly. I made him get off. He wasn't happy about it and neither was I. Brandon was really upset."

"That's all?"

"Truthfully, we've only done what you did with Brandon last night. He's got a good hand, that boy of yours. And Grant's sucked me off once or twice." He paused for effect. "Well, that's not quite true. I did stick my thumb up him the last time he was doing Brandon."

I spluttered into my beer. "You what?"

"I thumbed him for a couple of minutes right at the end. He had one hell of an orgasm, but it was nothing compared to what you just gave him. I've never seen a boy do that. Or anyone else for that matter."

"You mean black out?"

"I've had Brandon so exhausted he's been ready to faint, but he's never actually lost it completely. Two in a row must have been too much even for Grant."

"There's only one thing I don't understand," I began.

"What's that?"

"I know he was excited from wearing the harness," I explained. "But he was so…"

"Turned-on?" Gary suggested. "I think it was from the harness pulling the bit inside him. I told you my ex-wife used to practically strangle her horse with it. You saw what he was doing? Jerking his head back and forth?"

"Yes?"

"I think he was levering the bit upward so it was forced into his prostate."

"He gave himself an orgasm?" I remarked.

"Two, if you remember." Gary winked playfully. "I think it was everything combined. Having the dildo in him earlier, doing the dance, putting the harness on the first time, then getting his dick played with in front of us."

"But not Brandon?" I asked curiously.

"He's always been the passive one of the two," Gary explained. "He gets off on different things."

"Such as?" I prompted.

"You'll find out soon enough, Chris. Let me just say that boy of mine has a thing for semen. He'll will suck you dry if you give him a chance."

"No wonder he has big balls," I chuckled.

"Brandon takes after me in that respect. He might have a short dick, but his balls more than make up for it. Just give him a few more years and he'll put out a load that will need a towel to clean up upwards."

A few more years. It was not long enough. It was never long enough, not by a long shot. Puberty happened too quickly, much too quickly. Just when a boy could really enjoy being a boy, he was transformed into a man, or at least a gangling, acne-spotted adolescent. The key, the lesson that every boy lover learned sooner or later, was that every second was precious.

"So, how is it going with him?" Gary asked.

"Huh? With Grant?" I asked.

Gary did not need to answer. I smiled and nodded thoughtfully, remembering. Most of the time I was happy in a way that I had never been. I lived to ensure Grant's happiness. That was my purpose in life. A few times, a very few times, there had been difficulties. Only one time there was blood. Not a lot of it, just enough to make me sick with shame that I had hurt him. It was hard to control the passion. Each time I was overwhelmed, swept along on a current that stopped only with orgasm, and then it was temporary relief. I sighed.

"Good," I answered.

Again, a single word to reduce the pleasure, the joy, the wonder of being in love with a boy. I looked up, meeting Gary's eyes. 'Good' was enough to convey everything that I needed to say.

"Sometimes… I still hurt him, Gary. I try not to, of course, but I can feel it. He winces. I know he's gritting his teeth so he doesn't cry."

"I know the feeling," Gary sympathized. "You try so hard not to hurt him and you still do. It's a bit like putting a square peg in a round hole sometimes, especially when you first start. He'll get used to it, and so will you, Chris. It's only been a week since you guys began. In a few more weeks, he'll be ready to go at it full bore."

"I don't know. It scares me, Gary. Just the thought I might be hurting him. The last few times," I began. I sighed. "It happens so fast. Almost as soon as I get it in, I cum. He's not ready to stop. Neither am I for that matter, but I lose it in a matter of a few seconds. I barely start moving and it's over."

"Ah, the dreaded premature ejaculation," Gary laughed. "You too, huh?" He straightened up and put down the knife that he had been using to dissect a bunch of broccoli. "I'm like that sometimes too. I put it down to too much excitement. You get turned on because you know how good it is to love him."

"I guess you could say that. It feels so incredibly good. As soon as my dick touches him there, not going in, but just at the rim, he looks up at me, and I can see that he's happy, and he wants me to do it. I know he does."

I swallowed. I took a deep breath. I tried to find the words to describe the look in his eyes. It was nothing short of mystical. It created a surge within me, a feeling of raw excitement that went far beyond anything I had ever experienced with my wife. There was no fantasy with her, just straight sex, boring. Grant would never be boring. The only problem was that it did not last long enough.

"Viagra!"

"Huh?"

"Viagra. That's what you need, Chris."

"You're joking." I laughed as I picked up one of the carrots from a bowl on the kitchen counter. "Getting it up isn't my problem. Well that's not quite true."

"The limp dick problem too?" Gary teased. "So you've done it while he's asleep?"

I choked on the carrot I was eating. "Uh!… Yeah," I admitted. "A few times. I wake up and I feel horny. He lies right up against me at night. He feels so warm. I get the urge to, but nearly every time I can't finish."

"That'll teach you not to try to take advantage of a sleeping boy," Gary joked. "I used to do that a lot with Brandon. A couple of times he woke up and we really got into it. Then I figured that the best way was not to take it out. It solves the problem of getting it back in when he's asleep."

"You leave it inside him all night?" I asked. I licked my lips.

Gary winked. "Sometimes. Usually it pulls out during the night. If I was an inch or two [5 cm] longer, it wouldn't be a problem."

"So tell me about Viagra," I suggested. "Does it really work?"

"Absolutely!" Gary replied confidently. "I pop a pill an hour beforehand. Most men take it to improve the hardness. It does that, but that isn't why I use it. Mine is… well it's always hard enough that's for sure, but it gets even harder. The nice thing is, it stays hard longer."

"You mean after you cum?"

"Usually. My personal best is nearly an hour."

"An hour?" I repeated in disbelief.

"An hour… and that's after I came the first time. Have you ever seen a boy wobble when he tries to stand up afterwards? That was Brandon," Gary laughed. "I had get out of bed and carry him into the bathroom. I don't often put a towel under him, but I was glad I did that time."

"Messy huh?"

"Yeah. It wasn't his fault. You know how it is. I pretty much churned him up inside, doing it for that long. He had no muscle control left by the time I finished. It just poured out of him like water coming out the end of a hose. He was embarassed about it needless to say."

"I guess so."

"Anyway, we have a rule now," Gary stated. "If we're going to bed for a marathon session, he has to have an enema beforehand."

I nodded. It was a good rule. I remembered one afternoon. It was only three days ago. Grant had barely made it into the bathroom before his bowels emptied. I cleaned up the mess from the floor. It was not a pleasant job and not one that I wanted to repeat, yet I accepted it as part of the love we enjoyed together. There would always be accidents.

I lifted my hand, placed it on the counter, rubbed against the smooth plastic top. Grant's body was probably smoother, I mused. Although I had never received one, or for that matter given one, knowing what lay ahead, an enema seemed to be a very good idea.

"Shouldn't the boys?…" I suggested.

Gary smirked. "It's already taken care off. I told them to do each other before they got into the bath. I thought you might have noticed something when you were putting the harness on Grant."

I nodded, smiling with a new appreciation. "He smelled clean, that's for certain."

"That's good. Well, I had better get busy with dinner. Are you interested?"

"In what?" I asked.

"Taking some Viagra?"

"I don't know." I shrugged.

The idea excited me. It was not like I was going to take an illegal drug. It was FDA approved. I nodded. Gary walked over to the refrigerator and picked up a small brown glass jar. It took a few seconds for him to remove the child-proof cap. Out spilled a couple of grey, triangular tablets.

"These are twenty-five milligrams, Chris. Usually I take just one. Two should be enough to last an hour or more."

I took both of the tablets. "About an hour from now?" I queried.

Gary nodded. I put them in my mouth, lifted the can of beer and drank a large draft. I swallowed them. In an hour. An hour from now. As soon as we finished dinner. It seemed as if I could feel them in my stomach, the exotic chemicals dissolving, spreading through my body.

"If you want, you can take the boys a beer, Chris. They might as well get into the mood for celebrating the New Year."

I nodded and accepted the can of beer he held out to me. I was starting back towards the living room when Gary spoke again.

"Just let it happen, Chris. Don't be uptight. The boys will be okay with anything we want to do, trust me on this. I know them, at least how they are with the idea. When it comes to sex, they aren't in the fourth grade any more."

I smiled at him, not particularly confident, yet hoping he was correct in his assessment of the situation. When I turned again, took a few more steps into the hall, I saw the boys spring apart. It was obvious what they had been doing. They were too close to be doing anything else. Their arms had been around each other's shoulders. They had been kissing, taking advantage of the time during the 'trailers' before the feature presentation. Grant licked his lips, still tasting his best friend, savoring the moist warmth than lingered. He smiled at me shyly.

It was strange, watching our two sons together, one boy shamelessly sitting on the couch in his black leather harness, the other boy lying partially underneath him. He was the passive one, always yielding, eagerly accepting. I came up to the couch and Grant squirmed away to make room for me between them. I sat down, placed my left arm around his back, pulled him closer. For a moment I was unsure what to do about Brandon. He lay there with his back against the armrest, his legs apart, his tiny penis cradled in the soft pale 'v' where his thigh joined to his belly. Unlike my son, Brandon was limp, yet the look in his eyes conveyed his inner joy. I was beginning to enjoy the differences between them. My right hand moved instinctively. Brandon smiled as my fingers stroked his flank. His skin was silky soft, deliciously warm, tingling my fingertips. He wriggled closer, placing his hand on my wrist. I panicked.

"Do you guys want to share a can of beer?" I asked.

"Sure," they both replied together.

I passed the chilled can to Grant, watched him pull back the metal tab, lift back his arm to raise it. In slow motion, smiling as the top of the can came ever closer to his mouth, his pink tongue licking his lips, wrinkling his nose slightly as he pretended to relish the cold bitter brew. It was not his first time. It was his first time with a full can of twelve ounces, even if he had to share. If he was lucky he would get half of the can. Like his virginity, his previous innocence all but forgotten, he had begun to acquire a taste for adult things. Even if it was an artificial affirmation of his manhood, and not something that he enjoyed, he was proud that he swallowed that mouthful. He grinned at me and passed the can in front of me into Brandon's eagerly outstretched hand.

"We're going to get drunk for New Year," he announced.

"Not on a half of a can of beer, you won't," I replied.

I could have sex with a boy, even thrust my penis inside his body until he was close to exhaustion, but I would not allow him to smoke a cigarette or consume enough alcohol that he became drunk? Was it a double standard, or the standard of a man who loved boys?

I took a deep breath. I felt Brandon's hand pulling gently, guiding my hand downward, closer. I half-closed my eyes. My hand was going where I wanted it to go, where Brandon wanted it to go. I heard the opening sounds of the movie, the drama as the boy climbed the cliff, came to the precipice, looked out over the jungle far below. It was symbolic of a giant step in the unknown, the ritualized passage of initiation, of coming to understand the self. I heard Grant giggle softly. He sounded a long way away, rather than right next to me. My fingers touched Brandon's scrotum. That precious part of him was so much larger than Grant's. It was like a little swollen, wrinkled ball, a precursor of the increased size to follow. I massaged him, using the same technique that I used with Grant. He did not like his testicles to be squeezed. Caressed gently, yes, but never pressured, never hurt.

Brandon sighed, curled his fingers around my wrist, lifted his upper leg and placed it over my legs. His hand pulled firmly, holding my hand steady, pushing my fingers into the resilient hemisphere. Like that, I could feel the unmistakable egg-shapes within his bulge. His testicles were definitely much bigger than Grant's tiny orbs, yet he was still several years away from puberty.

"Harder," Brandon said urgently.

It was somewhere between a whisper and a moan, but it left no doubt of what he wanted. I pressed harder, compressing the sensitive innards. He sighed, his fingers covering mine, pushing harder. By that point, Grant would have squealed and I would have yanked my hand away. That was not to be the case. He was a long way from being man-sized, but the painful pleasure he demanded was manly. I fondled him, carefully locating his testicles between my fingers, holding the silken skin so that they could not escape, squeezing slightly, increasingly hard, rubbing the tightly stretched skin, aware that he was quivering, breathing faster.

"Dad, he really likes it when you rub his balls hard," Grant said with a broad grin.

I nodded, swallowed, kept my hand there, playing in the sweaty heat of Brandon's compact crotch. Every few seconds, his pelvis lifted against my hand, a sign that he wanted, needed more. I glanced sideways, saw his face, the expression of rapture, contented bliss. Like Grant, he was watching the movie despite the distraction that my grasping hand was providing.

"Do you think he's sexy, Dad?" Grant asked.

'He' was the nearly naked boy, Mimi-Siku, played by Sam Huntington. He wore only a loin cloth. With his long dark-blond mane and a golden tan, he was the quintessential wild boy. He was 'drop-dead' gorgeous, even by my exacting standards. He was sexy. I nodded slightly.

"My dad thinks he's really hot," Brandon remarked shamelessly. "He has a great tan, doesn't he?"

"I bet he hasn't got a tanned dick," Grant added gleefully. "I'm going to get tanned all over next summer."

"I hope you do, but don't get Junior sun-burned in the process," I said.

Both boys giggled. They had been naked occasionally during the previous summer, but not long enough to get their middle sections as darkly tanned as the rest of their bodies. We all realized that the next summer would be very different.

"When Mimi-Siku says he's a man now, why do you think that it?" Grant asked curiously. "Is it because he climbed the cliff?"

"Ah… well, partly because of that…" I began.

"Dad says it's because he's mature," Brandon interjected.

"You mean he has hair around his dick?"

"Probably. I think he's supposed to be twelve or thirteen," I replied. "It usually happens about then."

"It's because he can shoot. You know, his balls are making sperms," Brandon cut in. He smirked. "My dad says being able to cum properly is what separates the men from the boys."

Grant grinned. "Man, I think I know why he was interested in that girl," he said. "If I lived in that hut with all those guys farting, I'd probably like girls too."

"You know why they fart, don't you?" Brandon asked gleefully.

"I don't know. I guess because of what they eat. All that fruit and stuff?"

"I bet it's the same reason why you and I do it sometimes. It's from having a dick in your butt. At least I fart a lot if we use something with oil in it." Brandon smirked at me knowingly.

I tried not to laugh, really I did. Grant reddened slightly. Brandon continued to smirk. Not only was he more aware of the one of the less-than-pleasant side effects of sex, but he was also experienced enough to be more open about it.

"Oh!" Grant commented.

"Sure. Dad says that's what happens in a lot of primitive tribes. Men do it with boys until they leave to get married. That's why they all live in the same hut."

"You think Mimi-Siku does that? With one of those native dudes?"

"One? How about lots of them? Maybe they take turns with him at night."

"Even that fat guy?"

"Maybe."

"Gross."

"Hey, watch this next part," Brandon laughed. "This is so impossible."

At that moment, Mimi-Siku was escorted down the aisle of the plane. He carried his bow and arrows. Supposedly, he had urinated in the plane.

"What is?" I asked curiously.

"That they'd let him onto the plane with his bow and arrow. It'd never happen," Grant explained.

"Yeah. That and what are the chances of being allowed onto a plane dressed like that in the first place. There's no way! Even in the jungle," Brandon added adamantly.

I smiled. They were best friends, but the boys thought so alike at times that it was startling. Of course, there were other times when Grant and Brandon were so different that one wondered what they shared in common.

"So, would you do it with him if you had the chance?" Brandon teased.

I laughed. "What do you think?"

"Probably," Grant answered with a broad grin. "You're a pervert just like Brandon's dad. But you had better watch out for that spider. If you started grunting when you were getting close, it might bite you on the dick."

And so it went, playful teasing mixed with innocent and sometimes not so innocent eroticism, gently stroking their young slender bodies, watching the movie, hearing Gary preparing dinner in the kitchen, thinking about what would happen later on. My inhibitions had all but disappeared. Perhaps that was Gary's intention in leaving me alone with two all-but-naked boys. They were shameless and uninhibited, but at the same time they seemed calmly detached from the continual sexual overtones that haunted me. My erection came and went, and I wondered whether the Viagra had any effect what so ever.

An hour later, the empty can of beer long since discarded, we turned off the television and went into the dining room ready for dinner. Gary was not only a better cook than my wife, he was also better at it than I was. He had prepared a culinary extravaganza, a feast of smoked ham that been coated with far more honey and brown sugar than was healthy. Black-eyed peas, creamy mashed potato, broccoli and cheese sauce, glazed carrots with none of them larger than a well-endowed ten-year-old boy's 'weenie' and freshly baked bread. Lots and lots of hot bread with a crisp golden crust. The meal could have been served at many of the restaurants in town, but it was special because Gary had cooked for us. This was a celebration dinner. I looked at Gary, uncertain of what to say. He had gone to a lot of trouble, far more than I had gone to for Christmas dinner.

"Dad, are we going to say Grace?" Brandon asked.

"I don't see why not. We all have a lot to be thankful for." Gary paused for a moment, marshalling his thoughts. "Lord, we stand before you, thankful for the food you have provided today. This day, this last day of the year, is also the last day of a millennium. It is the ending to a period of time, but it also marks a beginning for all of us. All four of us are thankful for that beginning. We stand before you, two men and two boys, four people who have discovered the true meaning of love. As fathers, we share our sons, coming together in fellowship and joining in love. They are the most special people to enter our lives. We are thankful for their love, and the opportunity that you have given to us to love them."

There was a long silence.

"Nicely put," I said awkwardly. "I couldn't agree more. I know I have a lot to be thankful for."

I glanced at Grant. He fidgeted slightly the way he usually did when he was hungry. He smiled shyly at me, acknowledging that he also agreed. We sat down and ate heartily. Home made apple pie with vanilla ice-cream followed the main course. We pushed our plates aside, moved our chairs back, and relaxed. We were full to overflowing, at least for the moment.

"I'm stuffed," I announced. "That may be the best meal I've had in a year. It's a nice way to end," I added.

I looked at the two boys sitting adjacent to me. The incongruence was obvious. Sitting up in one-hundred-year-old chairs that had been recently upholstered in brocaded satin, around a highly polished table made of inlaid walnut, wiping the last of the ice-cream from their beautiful faces. They were content and obviously very happy. Yet, both the traditional table setting and their endearing boyish innocence conflicted with what they wore. It was a startling contrast. They were naked and harnessed like the slaves of a thousand years earlier, exposed before two pairs of lust-filled eyes. I rubbed my fingers together gleefully. The possibilities were awesome. It was exciting just imagining the boys wearing their harnesses outdoors when the weather became warmer. They could wear them into town under their clothes, perhaps skiing, or even skating on the pond off Denton Road. No one would know except the four of us. Every time they moved, they would be subjected to an exquisite pleasure, and Gary and I would know it. We would see it in their smiles or from the way they walked.

"I think we all are feeling the same way."

I looked up, suddenly aware that I had been staring at Grant's bare thigh, at that small triangle of bare smooth skin that was framed by the shiny chain links, a black leather strap, and the grey-green seat. Lower, I could see the flattened shape of his 'bottom', an interesting word that suggested more than being underneath and lowest. The word had connotations of being fundamental and primal, in a way essential. Certainly, his 'bottom' was primary to my love, and now to Gary's love as well.

I smiled, aware that both boys were grinning.

"They're both checking out your butt, Travers," Brandon chortled. "You'd better be careful or you're going to be real sore."

I blushed. So did Gary. My attraction was shared, a mutual interest that needed to be recognized.

"Why not?" I asked. "I think he has a very cute butt."

"Indeed he does. But you're right about one thing, Brandon. It's going to be a very sore little butt too before long," Gary added.

Grant giggled, both aware and proud that he was the center of attention. "Don't you think we ought to clear the table first?" he said.

"Clean up?" Gary pretended to ponder the question. "Not me. I cooked. How about you, Chris?"

"Me? I'd like to, I really would. But I'm so full right now, I don't think I could manage it."

"So that leaves you two," Gary teased.

"Us?" Grant asked with a voice that was filled with feigned innocence. "We don't do menial tasks, do we Brandon?"

Brandon smirked and shook his head to indicate that he was keen to play along. The Viagra was working, had been working for the last ten minutes. My penis was lying alongside my thigh, hot and hard. I tried to stem my anticipation of what was about to occur, not wanting to appear overly eager.

"Just what do you do?" Gary asked.

His voice crackled with excitement. He shifted in his seat, rearranging his jeans. He winked at me conspiratorially. He was as ready as I was.

Grant smirked, his eyes flickering with increasing interest. He licked his lips, breathing deeply, responding to the sudden surge within him. At ten years old, it was impossible for him to control his lust. He fiddled with his napkin ring, turning the antique silver ring over and over. Then slowly, ever so slowly, watching Gary's reaction, occasionally glancing to see my response, he inserted the middle finger of his right hand through the ring. After a moment he moved it back, then repeated the motion, back and forth. My eyes bulged. My penis bulged. My heart jumped and went into overdrive.

"Um…" Grant said softly.

He glanced at Brandon and was met by a giggle. The ball was in his court.

"Well?" I prompted.

"What I… we do… is… um…"

I smiled. He was nervous, but what ten-year-old boy would not be nervous in the same situation.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," I said, repeating the time-honored rule just in case either boy was having last minute qualms.

"And if we want to do something?" Brandon interjected.

"Then you go ahead and do it because it's what you want to do," Gary finished.

It was impossible not to smile. We were dancing around the issue like a virgin before the first time. There was only one first time and neither of the boys could claim to be a virgin, but this was our first time together. Grant pushed his finger through the napkin ring until it was against his knuckles.He licked his bottom lip quickly, then again, chewing on it slightly with his upper teeth.

"I guess," Grant wavered.

He breathed out, turning slightly to look at me, lowering his eyes, then meeting my eyes deliberately. Telling someone that you wanted to have sex with them was not easy.

I nodded reassuringly. "If you want to."

He breathed out again, sighing, deliberating. I could see the unasked question in his eyes, the question that did not need an answer because I had already told him it was all right.

"I do, if you want to," he murmured.

He glanced quickly at Gary, then at Brandon. Gary smiled at him. It was a father's smile. Understanding. Knowing. Supportive. The silence lasted a long while.

"Maybe we ought to go upstairs," Gary suggested.

He said it seriously. There were no giggles, just the shuffling sound of four people getting up from the table, the scrape of chairs on the polished oak floors. For a few seconds we stood there, looking at each other.

"How do you… um how should we do this?" I asked.

"I would have thought that was pretty obvious," Gary quipped as he grinned at the boys.

"I mean…"

"I know what you mean, Chris. If you want to take Brandon to his bedroom that's up to you. Or you can stay down here with him too, if you want. It's cool either way."

I shrugged. The mere thought of being alone with Brandon was enough to make my heart pound. Did it really matter whether it was in his bedroom or in the living room?

"Or you could come with us," Gary added softly.

"All of us?" I asked. "Together?"

I looked at Grant awkwardly. I had not expected this. For me, sex was a private act. It was a time when people shared their most intimate selves. He looked at me with his large no-longer-innocent eyes. I wondered what thoughts were running through his mind. Did he want to be with Gary in private? It seemed to be the natural thing to expect. There was no reason why he would want his father watching him have sex with another man. It was a complication that I had not counted on.

And yet, with logic telling me that separate rooms were in order, I remembered the previous night and what the boys had done in front of me. It was bold, intentional, calculated. It was because of tonight. Because they wanted us to be together. All of us. I took a long slow breath.

"Your room," I said nervously.

Gary smiled and turned, leading the way, away from the dining room. Brandon followed him, then Grant. Then me. They were sandwiched between us, two naked boys bracketed by clothed men, going to a rendezvous with destiny. It was easy to climb the stairs, watching Grant's small bottom, his crack distorted by what was inside his rectum, his cheeks compressed by the oval-shaped sides of the bit, the black leather harness tight around his back.

We left the bedroom door open. There was no reason to close it. The boys stood there, grinning, eyes exchanging knowing looks, our feasting on their nearly bare bodies. It was like a hunger, this love for boys. Urgent, demanding, all-conquering. Impossible to stop. Gary unfastened his shirt buttons before his hands fumbled at his waist. I watched, curious and strangely excited, as he unfastened his belt and the metal button at the top of his loosely fitting jeans. With his zipper opened, he shucked his jeans and bright-red briefs at the same time. A single push was all that was needed. They dropped all the way to his knees before they slowed. They came to a halt at his ankles and he stepped out of them.

Seeing another man undress was very different to anything I had ever seen. I looked at Grant and saw his eyes dancing over the man's partial nudity, taking in the details that would interest a boy his age. The firm belly, the line of dark hair from his navel to his crotch, the hair-matted chest, the powerful muscles from working part-time on the farm. However, it was Gary's genitals that captured my son's attention. His eyes were riveted on that most interesting part, his lips parting slightly in a half-formed smile. From his perspective, it was worth seeing.

Like me, like Brandon, Gary was also circumcised. His glans was fat and plum-colored. However, his penis was much shorter than mine, probably less than six inches [15 cm] long. Despite that, it appeared to be much thicker, at least in the middle. Where my penis reached its maximum girth at the flared head, Gary's penis continued to thicken until half-way down the shaft. Without a tape measure, it was impossible to be accurate, but it looked to be well over two inches [5 cm] across. It tapered slightly until it reached his pubis where it disappeared in a thick cushion of dark curling hair. Underneath that vein-gnarled stake, his darkened scrotum was huge. From where I stood, his testicles seemed to be as large as chicken eggs, although logic said otherwise. I made the obvious if perfunctory comparison to Brandon's pink plump hemisphere. Would the son eventually be as well-hung as the father?

And the effect on Grant of seeing Gary's manhood so proudly displayed? He became erect. Swiftly stiffening until it stood out from his lean body, pointing towards the man would soon possess both it and the rest of him.

"I think your son likes what he sees," Gary teased as he glanced at Grant's middle. He moved slightly and his shirt dropped to the floor behind him.

"What's there not to like?" I asked.

"Now you, Mr. Travers," Brandon giggled.

"If Grant's going to call your dad, 'Gary', then you're going to have to call me 'Chris', from now on," I said as I smiled.

"Okay," Brandon said cheerfully. "You have to strip too, Chris. Otherwise it isn't fair."

He had a good point. Other than the harnesses that did little to cover their naked bodies, I was the only person who retained any sense of modesty. I undressed slowly, thinking how far I had come in such a short period of time. It was only a matter of a week since Christmas Eve. The image of Grant stepping over me as he got into the bath tub with me filled my mind. I discovered what it meant to love a boy. He gave himself to me, his virgin body accepting my penis, yielding to my thrusting member, finally taking my fluids deep within him when I erupted. I filled him with my love. He made me happier than I had ever been. That afternoon was only the first of many, but it was an afternoon that I would never forget. Now this.

My shirt came off first. Brandon watched, his eyes eager, visibly fascinated. To the side, Grant was also watching, although he had seen me naked so often that he was no longer magnetized. However, Brandon was enraptured. His eyes were wide as my jeans and underpants slowly descended. There was something enchanting about seeing another person's aroused penis for the first time. Yet, he had seen me just a night before. He had held my penis in his hand, masturbating me, finally putting it in his mouth at the very end. He had seen it, but not in the light, not clearly, not like this. It was swollen and very hard and it throbbed mercilessly. It bobbed up and down enticingly. Brandon smiled, his eyes bewitched, giving in to his irresistible urge. He started to walk forward. I wiggled it from side to side, attracting the already beguiled boy. He breathed suddenly, sucking in air. He was still a couple of feet away. He licked his lips.

"He's huge."

I heard awe and respect in the soft voice of a child. Brandon's eyes were wide as he stared. He kept a safe respectable distance away from me.

"It's not that big," I said awkwardly. "Some men have dicks that are not much smaller than Moonraker's," I added.

"I s'pose. Yours is way longer than my dad's," Brandon added quietly. "Grant said your dick was shaped just like his, only bigger."

I smiled, glanced quickly at Gary. Grant was close to him now, kneeling down, submissive. I felt my heart lurch. I was intrigued, drawn along into the sacred ritual of joining, loving for the first time. I felt Brandon's cool soft hand brush against my penis. I had not heard him move. Grant was going to kiss Gary's penis, perhaps even suck it. My organ pulsed. Brandon's fingers squeezed. Another pulse. Adrenaline surging, causing the urgent tightening of my inner muscles. So hard. So incredibly hard that it seemed impossible that it was still human flesh.

Then, Brandon took over, leading me by the penis towards the bed. Another sideways glance. My heart pounding frantically. Gary was lifting Grant back up again, his hands under the boy's armpits. Grant's mouth was still open slightly, his lips were wet. Then they came together. Kissing. Hard, full mouth, tongue, kissing.

And Brandon, beautiful Brandon, still constrained by his harness, standing on tip toes, reaching up, his arms dropping around my neck, his eyes closed. His lips were soft, as soft as Grant's. Moving gently, firmly, parting, sucking back, pulling my tongue into him, not acquiescent, but accepting willingly, eagerly. We shared our saliva. His tongue was pliable, soft, compressible, ever active. A better kisser than my son? Was such a thing even possible? Then apart, both breathing urgently. Trembling from the rush of emotions that had exploded within us from just one kiss. I needed him, needed to be inside him. It was a mutual need. I felt his hands, one of them around my penis, clutching it in his small fist.

I sensed movement on the bed behind me. Turning, I looked over my shoulder. Gary was lying on his back and Grant was kneeling above him, straddling his legs. They were both grinning. Then Grant leaned forward, putting his hands on Gary's shoulders, eyes meeting, sharing a lover's look as they took deep, long breaths.

"There's plenty of room down here," Gary said with a smirk. "I reckon the best thing I ever did was to buy this king-sized bed."

I took a step back, holding Brandon tightly against me, touched my legs against the mattress, slowly say down as I scooped him up and cradled him, hugged him, smooched his cheek, forehead, the bridge of his nose, kissed his eyelids, returned once more to his mouth. It was a peculiar feeling. I was kissing Gary's son and he was kissing my son. It seemed entirely natural!

I remembered what I had witnessed only two or three days earlier in the living room. It happened while I was in the kitchen and Grant was outside in the barn, brushing Moonraker for the umpteenth time. Gary had kissed Brandon and his son had kissed him back. It was more than a father-son kiss. It was a tongue-kiss. A very long, very wet French kiss. He kissed Grant in the same way, using his lips and tongue and absorbing him in the same consuming way that I had just kissed Brandon.

I knew what came next, and I was ready. For the first time, at least as far as I knew, Gary was going to take the love he shared with my son even further. I would make love to Brandon. We would share them in a very special way. After this, there would be no secrets between us. There would be no forbidden pleasures. Gary's smile, his words, were directed to encouraging me to do what I wanted with Brandon. The possibility excited me. Watching him gently fondling the boy I loved, reassured me that I was free to do the same with Brandon. I had no doubts that Grant was doing what he wanted. I felt Brandon twisting around, leaning up, his hands touching my cheeks, the moist heat of his lips. We kissed again, holding each other tightly.

Like me, Gary would never hold his son back from discovering who and what made him happy. He winked when I finally caught his attention.

"He's a great kisser, isn't he?" Gary joked.

"Who?"

"Grant is. I think 'Hot-Lips' over there has been giving him lessons."

Hot-Lips? It was Brandon, of course. I had noticed the change in Grant only a day after Brandon had returned. I had taught him a lot, but Brandon had also played a role. Brandon smiled shyly up at me, licked his lips with the tip of his pink tongue. He kissed me again, this time without any restraint, putting everything he had into it. He used his tongue the same way that Grant had started doing, moving it back and forth as if thrusting into my mouth, curling his tongue behind my lips and licking against my teeth.

"Sure is," I agreed when Brandon finally relaxed his limpet-grip on me.

I smiled and casually tested the harness that remained in place with my finger by pulling on the straps. It did not offer the same physical stimulation to the wearer that Grant's provided, but with its highly polished hand-tooled leather and brightly shining chains and metal studs, it was more erotic. It was not difficult to imagine Brandon dancing at an exotic night club, his slender perfect body illuminated by colored lights and flashing strobes. He would strip, removing his clothes until only the harness was left. I imagined music pounding in relentless rhythm, his body thrusting, gyrating, driving his hips forward as if ramming his extended penis.

"How are we going to do this?" I asked uncertainly.

"How? I would have thought it was pretty obvious," Gary joked.

"Not to me it isn't," I responded.

"I think the general idea goes something like you fuck Brandon and I fuck Grant. You can pretty much skip the foreplay this time, given what they've been wearing for the last hour or so."

"I've got that much figured out already," I replied.

The first and only time that Grant and I had intercourse without any preparation was when we returned from skiing, and it was the best sex that I could remember. There was no need for foreplay when a boy's anus was already fully dilated.

"I was thinking of whether we should get under the covers?" I asked awkwardly.

"You can if you want. I've already turned the heat on higher so the boys wouldn't get cold. I was kind of looking forward to watching you and Brandon get it off. It is his first time with another man and all."

"I guess…"

I regarded Brandon. He looked down at me, quietly, perhaps thinking what I was thinking. I wanted to see Grant as well. I wanted to see his father make love to my son, to see the proof that they had joined. He shrugged ambiguously.

"How then?" I asked uncertainly.

"I thought you and Grant were old hands at this by now." Gary smirked at Grant. "He doesn't just do it to you in the missionary position, does he Grant?"

"The what position?"

"Don't worry about it," Gary laughed. "Let's get these harnesses off."

He reached up and began to unbuckle the straps. He began at Grant's chest, then reached around behind his neck. The last buckle was the one close to his waist. He pulled the leather straps through the metal rings. He reached behind my son, taking hold of the steel bit. An expression of relief fleeted across Grant's face as the stainless steel tongue was carefully plucked from his rectum. It was my turn.

Brandon grinned at me. With one hand I unfastened the buckle behind his head. Then two behind his back. Placing my hand on his buttocks, I gently pulled on the metal chain. The first, or the last, red ball came into view. I tugged gently, pulling it up into the narrow tube of his sphincter. he winced slightly, strained down to help push it through. It popped out. The second followed quickly, then the third. Each 'pop' reminded me of the first time that I had removed the balls from Grant's body. The sound of suction, giving up the colorful jewels that had been hidden from sight. Six of them. One-inch [2½ cm] orbs, sliding freely on a now-greasy leather cord. With the last one, Brandon gasped, his buttocks clenching instinctively but to no avail to keep it inside him. The balls were hot and covered with a slippery wet sheen.

I was surprised. In the past, when I had extracted the home-made dildo from Grant's rectum, there were always a few flecks of feces, often a brown streak or two on the last couple of balls. A few times there were tiny lumps clinging to the cord. This time, the balls were clean, as clean as if they had been washed. They even smelled fresh, or rather, they smelled musky, redolent with the same primal odor that came from Grant's body when we had sex.

I placed the harness and the balls on the floor beside the bed where they would be easy to find later on, should the need arise. As I straightened up again, I met Gary's eyes. He winked.

"Now I can understand why you were saying that an enema was a good idea," I admitted.

He nodded. "It's nicer when it's clean."

"How often does he do it?" I asked curiously.

"Usually about once a week, and always before our marathon sessions, otherwise there's a tendency for it to get a bit on the messy side. The other thing is, it helps to stop him from getting constipated."

"Oh?"

"Sure. From the sound of your voice, I assume that you haven't had that problem yet?" Gary asked. I shook my head. "You will. It's just a matter of time."

I grinned. "I expect so. Okay, so what position do you recommend, expert?"

"We've found two ways work the best for us, haven't we Brandon?" Gary said. Brandon nodded. "One position is for Brandon to lie on his back and I lie on my side. He puts one of his legs over my hips and the other leg is bent so his foot is on my chest. I can get in nice and deep without hurting him and he can control how fast it happens."

"And the other?" I prompted.

"Is my personal favorite, especially for long ones. He lies on his side with me behind him. He pulls his bottom leg up to his belly, and I put his other leg back behind my knees. He doesn't have anywhere near the same the control, of course, but it's the most comfortable for him. I can get the full length of my cock into him without hurting him."

"It sounds good to me," I laughed. "It's also the position that we use most of the time as well."

"Good, because I have an interesting variation for you."

"Which is?"

Gary smirked. "Well, I really want to watch you do it, okay. I want to see it up close, Chris. I want to see your dick actually going into Brandon. If you don't feel the same way, then tell me. It won't bother me."

If my penis was not already as hard as forged steel, it would have been by then. The idea was both ludicrous and phenomenal. Watching another man's penis going into, then all the way inside my son. Watching Grant's anus open, stretch tightly, become a thin lip around Gary's thick shaft. I could be seeing it up close. I breathed out.

"Yes!"

Gary smirked again. "I thought so. Phew! I was worried for a moment. Okay, here's what I have in mind. I think it'll be fun for the boys as well."

He paused for effect. The boys were attentive, ears pricked, listening.

"We do it the way we usually do, only the boys sixty-nine at the same time."

"Huh? I don't get it."

Gary laughed. "Well think about it, Chris. They sixty-nine!"

"I still don't get it."

"Geez. Okay, let's get the boys in position. It'll be easier that way."

Grant scrambled off Gary and onto the middle of the bed. He grinned at Brandon, obviously excited. He was greeted by an equally salacious smile. The boys were ready and they were making no secret about it. Gary leaned to the side, opened the drawer of the night-stand, reached into it. He handed me an opened box. This was the 'miracle' lubricant.

"Anal-ese," I read aloud.

If there was any question about the area of application the picture on the front of the box quickly dispelled it. I read the directions from the back of the box, the two boys interrupting me with peals of laughter.

"Apply a small amount of ANAL-ESE to rectal area prior to penetration. Wait a few minutes for desensitization before attempting penetration. Proper amount and waiting time will be determined after several uses."

"What is de-sensa-whatever mean?" Grant asked. Apparently he understood what was being penetrated.

Brandon giggled. "It numbs your butt, you dummy."

"Numbs? How?"

"I think it's got a chemical in it that makes you less sensitive," I explained. "Benzocaine or something like that. It's a mild anesthetic. It's like the stuff I put on you when you scrape your knees. It deadens the nerves so it doesn't ache."

"It tastes a bit like cough medicine," Brandon added gleefully.

"Just don't ask him how he knows what it tastes like," Gary quipped.

Grant guffawed. "I know exactly how he knows. He sucks your dick after you're finished, doesn't he?"

"Right on, Grant," I chortled. "You and me, both huh Gary?"

"Okay, so what do we do?" Brandon asked as he turned to his father.

"You two lie down on your sides. Face to face, just like you do when you're going to suck each other's dicks," Gary explained.

The boys grinned at each other and moved into position, shifting down in the bed until they were lying head to 'tail', but with their mouths still far enough away from the other boy's genitals that the next move was uncertain.

"Now what," Grant asked.

"Now you pull your bottom legs up, but not all the way to your chests. That's right, you use Grant's leg as a pillow. You too, Grant. Now, Chris and I lie down behind you," Gary continued.

I followed his example and settled down on the bed behind Brandon. As soon as I did so, the result was obvious. My heart surged and my penis jumped in anticipation. With my head lying behind and higher than Brandon's I could see over the top of his head. However even as I noticed my son's hard little penis and flattened scrotum, Gary's hand lifted Grant's upper leg, placing the small foot behind his knees. My son's leg was both at an angle to his body and pulled slightly behind him. The result was to split his buttocks apart. The sight was remarkably revealing. His anus was still fully dilated, a crimson aperture that opened beyond his sphincter. I looked into the tube of his rectum, down into the darkness of his bowels. I licked my lips, thinking of the many times that my penis had pierced that hole and pushed into him. I had always wanted to watch my penis entering that special place. Instead it would be Gary's penis that I watched. It hovered between Grant's thighs, proudly dominant, aggressively masculine, thick, hard, and throbbing. That it would soon be inside my son's slim body was mind-boggling. Such a possibility before today would have left me cold. Now, it excited me beyond my wildest dreams.

Gary's leg was next to my head. It was thick, muscular, hair-covered, the very opposite of my son's smooth slender limb. Awkwardly, reluctant to make contact with another man's body, I propped my head up on my elbow.

"Hey, Chris, you can put a pillow under your head if you want. Or you can rest your head on my leg," Gary offered. "You don't mind if I use your leg for a head rest, do you?"

I swallowed and breathed out. "I guess…"

I opened the box and removed the small tube. "How much do I use?" I asked as I examined the small tube.

"Don't worry about what it says about using a small amount, just give it to Brandon," Gary said. "He knows how much."

"If you use too much, you can't feel anything," Brandon said expertly. "So the idea is to put some on his butt-hole and just inside where it's tight."

He squeezed a small bead of Anal-ese onto his forefinger and then collected a somewhat larger gob on the fingertip. With the fingers of his other hand, he fondled Grant's testicles, playfully rubbing them as he began to apply the gel. His finger slowly circled my son's anus, making him quiver slightly. The rim and some of the surrounding area was dark with residual bruising, the unfortunate result of being impaled by a man's penis. Then slowly, Brandon's finger pressed inward, pushing into the gaping hole, rotating. Grant sighed and twisted, turning his head to look. He could see nothing, but I could. Brandon's finger pushed steadily forward, sliding on the film of lotion. It was not particularly slippery but there was enough lubricant inside him to ease the way. Brandon's finger pulled out, still rotating from side to side. His finger glistened wetly, momentarily before he smeared it against his father's engorged penis. He added more of the lotion, just as I knew he would. It was barely enough to cover the broad oval-shaped stake.

Gary's penis flexed and jerked hungrily, eager and ready to do its job.

"Hey, put some more on," he insisted. "I want this to last."

Brandon giggled. "Okay. But don't you want to feel how tight he is, Dad?"

"You little…" Gary laughed. "You're right, except he's not that tight anymore, and certainly not after having that thing inside him for the last hour. Put on some more will you?"

Brandon complied, adding more of the cherry-scented lotion to his father's erection, rubbing it into the skin until there was only a dull sheen.

"How long does it take?" Grant asked.

His bottom tensed, closing his anus until it was barely big enough for a pencil to pass through. He relaxed the muscle again, then exerted more control, drawing his testicles up closer to the underside of his penis.

"A few minutes," Gary explained. "How does it feel?"

"The same, at least I think so. I can't tell."

"It's starting to work then. Hey Brandon, pass that tube up here and I'll get you ready."

"Don't we need something to make it slippery?" I asked with growing concern.

The mere thought of Gary's hardened, swollen penis penetrating Grant's body with only a thin film of Anal-ese to dull the pain made me squeamish. It might not hurt him, at least not hurt as much as it would have hurt him without the Anal-ese, but it would certainly damage the sensitive tissue inside his anus.

"Sure. We've got some Astroglide for that," Gary answered. "It's far and away the best lube I've ever used."

"I thought you said it was expensive," I commented.

"It is. I also said we kept it for special occasions – which this is. Tonight, my friend, you are going to have the best sex of your entire life."

I laughed, then suddenly stopped when I felt a hand, a large hand, a man's hand sliding slowly along my penis. I felt uncomfortable, very uncomfortable. No man had ever touched my penis, at least not since my father had changed my diaper. The hand went up and down slowly. I heard Grant's giggle, high-pitched, excited, wanton. He was watching. I took a deep breath, tried to relax, tried to convince myself that it did not matter. What did it matter if Gary touched my penis, or any other part of my body for that matter?

"Now the Astro, Brandon. I want him nice and slippery, okay?" Gary said. "So use plenty of it inside him."

"Okay," Brandon squeaked gleefully.

I don't know where the bottle of Astroglide came from. It literally appeared out of thin air. Perhaps it had been lying under the pillow. His son unscrewed the cap and squeezed some of the crystalline fluid out onto two fingers. It even looked like pre-seminal fluid.

"Usually, you don't need more than a few drops to get past the back-door," Gary explained. "It's incredibly slippery. But I want the boys to really enjoy this. It'll last for hours if we start off with plenty."

I nodded and then realized that no one could see me. That was another advantage of the position we were in. I smiled, relishing my own private world, the view before me sufficient to take my breath away. Brandon knew exactly what he had to do. His fingers squirmed around in the softened opening that was Grant's anus. He massaged the rim, spreading the slick fluid along the dividing crevice and over the sides of my son's cheeks. His fingers pulled back, then playfully probed at the orifice. Two fingers surged through, penetrating beyond the second joint before he stopped. The only reaction was Grant's muted sigh and a slight squeezing of the rim when it adjusted to the sudden ingress. If there was any sensation left, it was barely noticeable.

No longer needing direction, Brandon added more, much more. He worked the glistening lubricant into the small hole, using two fingers to spread it around, covering the anal walls thoroughly before he stopped. Then, never stopping, he began to smear the lubricant over his father's penis. He used a lot, coating it with a layer of shiny high-tech gel. From base to tip, the shaft gleamed with a sheen of shimmering wetness. The bottle of Astroglide was passed from son to father.

"Okay Grant," Gary chuckled. "Now it's your turn. Do you want to get your Dad ready for the fuck of his life?"

Grant giggled. "What do I do?"

"Just what you always do," I laughed. "Get my dick ready and put some up Brando's butt."

"You're already hard."

"Of course I'm already hard. Just get it slippery," I replied.

It was a relief to feel a small hand for a change. Perhaps, after we had done this a few more times, I would be comfortable with another man touching my penis. Grant giggled again and went about his assigned task with more fervor than I would have liked. Up and down that little hand moved, slipping easily on my slick penis. It felt very good, but it also felt different. Not numbed, but less sensitive, vaguely detached from the rest of my body, as if Grant was generating interesting yet remote sensations.

"Okay," Grant giggled. "Who goes first?"

It was an interesting predicament. We could of course take turns, but that defeated the purpose of being there together. Although no one said anything, it was obvious that we needed to do it at the same time.

"You go first, Chris," Gary directed firmly. "I've waited for months to see this."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Just go slow. I want to remember this forever. Once you get about halfway in, stop and I'll do Grant."

"Okay," I answered uncertainly.

It was up to me to take that first irrevocable step. Until that moment, it had seemed fantastic, the strangest fantasy that any man could have. Now, it was real. I took a deep breath, waiting, hoping it was just a dream, that I could wake up and pull back from the looming precipice, that my life could return to normal.

"Go on, Dad," Grant said encouragingly. "Do him."

"Do what?"

"Do it to him! You don't want me saying 'fuck', now do you, Dad?"

I laughed. It was absurd. The whole thing was crazy. I was ready to have sex with another man's son while he watched. While my son watched. And he was nervous about saying 'fuck'? Instead, I should 'do' him? Do him! DO him! DO HIM! FUCK HIM! Fuck the beautiful naked boy lying before me! Fuck him while his father and my son watched!

I prodded my penis into the firmness of his cheeks, felt it sliding along his crevice, felt a hand, perhaps two hands, take hold, guiding it, positioning it. Soft, loose, hot, oozing, opening into him, the juices easing the way, sliding, sealing us together.

"God!" I groaned.

I pushed. Not too hard, but hard enough. Brandon pushed back at me, using his strength, forcefully joining with me. His anus slipped over the flared head before I had a chance for second thoughts. Not that I would have had any, not then, not later, not ever. He was fabulously hot, looser than Grant had been during any of the many times I had taken him. It felt rather like he was pulling my penis into him. It felt strange, not nearly as over-powering as it had been, even relaxing in a way. His flesh felt reassuring. No gasps, no cries, barely a tremor. More heat and a wonderful firm, pressure that was very, very alive. I realized that I was inside him!

"Jesus!" I sighed. "It's in, isn't it! I can feel him."

"Of course it's in," Gary laughed. "What did you expect? Fucking incredible isn't it? You ought to see his ass, Chris. It practically sucked you in."

"It feels strange. It's like he's not tight at all."

"Oh, he's tight all right. His ass ring is stretched so taut you can barely see it."

"You ought to see it, Dad. It's like a little mouth," Grant added gleefully. "Only the lips are real thin and kinda pale."

I smiled. It felt different to being inside Grant, although exactly how it was different was hard to put my finger on. It stood to reason that one 'boy-ass' should feel much like any other. The anatomy was identical, after all. Muscle, tissue, texture, was the same. The only difference had to be in sensitivity. The sensations on my penis were not acute, not at all like I experienced with Grant. However, the pleasure of being inside, contained within that hot, slick tube, was certainly no less. Indeed, the sheer debauchery of what we were doing, made it memorable and intensified the emotions.

"Now you, Gary," I said breathlessly. "And I want you to do it slowly too."

"Sure! Are you ready it, Grant?" Gary teased. "I'm going to get it up your boy-pussy if you are."

Grant giggled and nodded eagerly. Brandon did what I could not do. He held his father's penis, placed it where it needed to be, wiggled it around until the tip burrowed into Grant's anus. It looked like a big plum. My eyes were wide. Impossible? It could never fit through Grant's tiny anus. I swallowed, steeled myself for the cry of pain as it forced into him. I saw Gary press forward, slowly, deliberately, pushing. And Grant pushed back!

I was quickly getting used to breathing with my mouth wide open. It was a shock. I would be lying if I said otherwise. He pushed himself back onto it. Not too hard, but hard enough that there was no question in my mind that he wanted to be impaled. The rounded knob of Gary's penis bulged into his anus. It stopped there, half in, half out, looking slightly comical, yet at the same time, very threatening. Grant's anus was nearly white. It was stretched tightly, but probably no tighter than when my penis breached his opening. However, seeing it there, massive, dark-purple, all-conquering, I was dumbfounded.

"How's the view down there?" Gary asked.

"Cool," Brandon replied.

"Very cool," I added after a moment. "Go on! Put it in further, Gary," I prompted.

"You said go slow, Chris" Gary jested. "I'm just doing what you said."

"Very funny."

I flexed my partially buried penis and Brandon responded with a playful squeeze. It felt good. I wanted Gary to feel good. His hand slipped around Grant's hip, his fingers gripping the bony mound to restrain him. Then he pushed upward and inward. I heard Grant's familiar gasp, that sound he made when my penis began to penetrate. He trembled noticeably, then calmed as he forced his body to relax before the onslaught.

"Go on, Dad," Brandon said gleefully. "Do him!"

Gary's thighs stiffened as the tendons and muscles came alive. The stake that was poised between Grant's buttocks lurched forward and promptly evoked another gasp. My son shuddered, struggling to accommodate the suddenly increased thickness. The swollen head was no longer visible. I licked my lips, staring in disbelief. It had happened so quickly. One moment Gary's glans was bulging into Grant's anus, the flared edge nudging into the rim of my son's anus, the next instant his gnarled penis was embedded as far as the circumcision scar. More than two inches [5 cm]. It looked as if it should hurt, but there was no sound of pain. Grant's buttocks clenched slightly, closing around the solid stub to hold it in place.

"Phew," I said in relief.

And it was relieving. Reassuring, too, that his body could open up and 'swallow' a man's penis without hurting. I often worried that I was hurting Grant, but seeing it up close, seeing the apparent ease, my confidence increased.

"You and me both," Gary joked. "What do you think, Gee-Tee? You like it?"

"'sokay," Grant hissed.

"It's just okay?" I teased.

"sgood," he added with a soft moan.

"Do me now," Brandon demanded. "I want all of your dick, Chris."

I choked. When I finally got my breath back, I did what he asked. First, I pulled back a little bit. I felt Brandon tense up. He knew what was coming. Hard and fast, or slow and gentle? That was the question that all boy lovers grapple with. Reason argued for the latter, while lust demanded the former. With Grant, I tended towards careful patient probing until he was loosened up and ready for action. However, watching Gary had given me an alternative. Brandon's anus was already weakened, already dilated, already ready. With the greatest width of my penis well beyond his anus, the rest was easy. I jabbed forward, thrusting my penis deeply before I stopped. Brandon bucked, jerked forward, lunged back to drive my penis even deeper. Before I knew it, Brandon repeated the motion.

"Fucking that boy of mine feels a bit like you're riding a pony, doesn't it?" Gary laughed.

"Oh God," I groaned.

Brandon's soft wet heat melted around my penis. Scorching hot, boiling hot, searing hot. Making me part of him. Absorbing my flesh into his encompassing cavity. Belonging to each other. I did not know how far my penis had gone into him, but it certainly felt like a long way. We stopped there, joined together. Now inseparable, each trying to understand what came next. I wanted to thrust, harder, further, back and forth. I resisted my inclination. There was plenty of time for that. For the moment it was important to be together and realize the bonds between two lovers.

"Sweet," Grant whispered.

I smirked. 'Sweet'. "You have got to expand your vocab," I said. "Having my cock up Brnadon's ass is a lot of things, but sweet isn't one of them."

"Cool, then."

"Cool? Not cool either. You might say 'hot', because it is, but it would still be a gross understatement."

"What then?" Grant demanded petulantly.

"You're watching your best friend and your father have sex for the first time," Gary interjected. "Think of some words to express how you feel about it."

"Hm… I don't know. I think it's pretty cool! Awesome? Uh… I don't know."

"Just don't say radical," Brandon laughed.

"So how do you feel about it, Grant?" I asked cautiously.

"Me? I… I don't know, Dad. It's okay, I guess. I was jealous for a moment when you first started putting him in, until I realized it was silly. Then I was kinda embarassed with you watching Gary do it to me. And then, I don't know. I wanted to see you do it to him some more. I guess it's nice."

I nodded, wondering whether we were doing the right thing. I had always believed that sex was supposed the intimate physical expression of two lovers. However, my son wanted to watch me make love to his best friend. It was confusing.

"Oh?" Gary said softly. "Like this?"

This time he did not need encouragement. He pushed resolutely and Grant squirmed as his young body stretched and tried to accommodate the demands being placed upon it. Delicate tissue was compressed against the roughness of the onrushing penis. He made a sound that was more like a grunt than a groan as he struggled to accept it into his rectum.

The shape of Gary's penis, wider in the middle than at either end, meant that there was a point that had to be reached before Grant experienced relief from the pressure inside him. The pressure increased as Gary forced his penis in. He used a jack-hammer motion when Grant's body began to resist. Quick short thrusts, pumping into the taut band, pausing, waiting for the nerves to respond, for the muscle to relax, then slowly sinking through it.

"Okay?" Gary asked.

Grant nodded slightly. "Is it in?"

"Kind of," Brandon replied. "It's more than half way. But getting it in that far is the worst part. "

"Does it hurt?" Gary asked.

"Not really. A little bit. It just feels so big… It's way bigger than Dad's."

"It's a lot thicker in the middle than mine is," I said with a tinge of envy.

There was something incredibly arousing about seeing that thick engorged penis penetrating my son's slender body. It was thicker than mine, at least in the middle region. Suddenly, I was very glad that Grant had been wearing the first harness we had fabricated. While the six balls exercised his rectal muscles, he needed the extra width of the metal tongue far more. He would never be quite the same boy after this night, but the same was also true of Brandon.

Awkwardly, my fingers reached out, sliding along Grant's smooth hairless thigh. As my hand neared his groin I felt increasingly uncomfortable, yet I could not stop. I needed to do this, I needed to convince myself that I accepted what was happening. Lovingly I brushed the compact wrinkled lump of Grant's scrotum. So tiny. His testicles were barely discernible. Just a little larger than baked beans. His penis was straight and thin, smooth skinned like a small pink sausage. And lower? I swallowed uncertainly. The thing that extended into my son was thick and angry-red. My son belonged to it. It owned him. I was merely an onlooker, a witness, an accomplice who was guilty by association. I winced. Dare I touch it?

Again, I fondled Grant's boy-sized testicles. Like his penis they were impotent, yet potent, a harbinger of the future manhood, a sign of the male within him despite the penis that possessed him. This man had staked a claim inside my son. From this moment forth, my son would not belong to me alone. Finally, I summoned my will to do it. My fingers crept forward, following nature's line between his small firm cheeks. I touched the junction of their bodies, fingered that curiously exaggerated line of Grant's anus, almost non-existence, but paler than the surrounding circle of purple-brown bruises. I could feel the heat emanating from Gary's penis. I was shocked by the contrast. It was both brutal and beautiful, seeing a man and boy joined in this way. In that region, Grant was pale and submissive. Gary's complementing part was dark and dominant. Large and small. Erect and soft. Smooth and hairy. Man and boy. Yet, they fit together very naturally.

It was my turn. Pushing with my thighs, clenching my buttocks, driving inwards, sliding on that slick film until I was deep inside him. So easy! It required much less effort than penetrating Grant. Not all the way of course, but far enough that my penis emerged into the spongy-soft region. Brandon's anus was constricted and the pressure was noticeable, but it was only to the point of not being loose. It felt a little like my wife's vagina, yet the canal beyond was boring and far different to the supple yielding passage of a boy. It was all I could do not to ram in further and take him completely.

"Sweet," Grant murmured. "You ought to see it, Brando. His dick is right up you."

"Uh huh. I can feel it, you know."

I felt a hand beside my thigh, fingers touching, extending to the junction, tickling the shaft of my penis. Small fingers. It had to be Grant.

"Cool," Brandon purred. "It's nearly in all the way."

I smirked, proud of an achievement that most men would consider shameful. I flexed my penis and Brandon squeezed back. Again. Another squeeze.

"How's it feel?" Grant asked.

"Like yours, only a whole lot bigger."

"Very funny."

"You ready?" Gary asked.

"Huh?" Grant answered. He gasped as he felt Gary thrust forward.

I don't think I will ever forget. Watching with unblinking eyes, feeling with the tips of my fingers as the huge spike of man-flesh sank deeper and deeper. It went in slowly and smoothly, an uninterrupted advance. When Gary stopped pushing, his pubic hair was crushed against Grant's cheeks. My son shuddered uncomfortably, aware of what was now deep inside him and unable to do anything about it except lie very still and wait until he became used to it.

"Wow!" Brandon chirped. "It's way up there, Grant. You gotta see this."

"I can't, can I?" Grant grumbled. "It sure feels like it's all the way inside me."

"It is," Brandon said gayly. "How's it feel?"

"Like a huge dick is stuffed all the way up my butt," Grant fussed. "geez. How do you think it feels?"

"I know how it feels," Brandon replied confidently. "Just be patient, okay? It's pretty thick so it takes a while to get used to it."

Gary eased back a fraction of an inch as Grant's buttocks clenched around the thick organ. His cheeks pinched, then bulged outward in order to accommodate the thickness of Gary's penis. He tensed, trembling. His body was trying to eject it and he had a fight on his hands to stop himself from pushing it out. I wanted him to resist as well. Silently I offered my support. That slight withdrawal gave Grant relief. I sighed as he relaxed again.

"Does that feel better?" Gary asked softly.

"Uh huh!" Grant answered distantly. "It hurt a bit, but it's okay now."

"Sorry about that, Grant. I knew I was in too far. Just take it easy and get your breath back," Gary instructed.

"Don't take it out!"

"I won't," Gary said reassuringly. "I guess I forgot what it was like with a boy who wasn't all that used to it."

Brandon used those wonderful inner muscles of his to compress my penis again. He was certainly used to it. He had more than four months of experience compared to Grant's one week. It was how a boy was able to make love to a man and it was a skill that Grant was only beginning to learn. Wearing the ball-dildo had helped to strengthen his muscles a lot, but practice was needed as well.

Looking over the side of Brandon's head, I could see a wet ring of pubic hair around Gary's penis. I realized where it had come from. Gary's penis had been so far inside my son's bowels that his pubis had been pressed up against Grant's anus. The wetness was excess lubrication, Astroglide that had been pushed back along the shaft as it had progressed through the small opening. Was my son's anus so tight that it acted as a seal?

What followed was the most incredible experience of my entire life. It was not the most enjoyable – that was reserved for when Grant and I had returned from skiing. Nearly an hour of taking turns to thrust, sometimes hard, sometimes gently, sometimes fast, sometimes slowly. We explored a million variations, prodding tiny immature prostates, withdrawing throbbing penises through sleek-walled canals, pulling free and hearing the little truncated gasps of surprise, the urgent groans as penis and rectum were reunited. Sometimes so content that we were lay still and unmoving, pulsing alive within the boys we loved. It was a time of discovering what turned boys on, appreciating the remarkable yet often barely noticeable between them. There was no comparison between my son and his best friend. Grant and Brandon were the same and different. It was not a matter of one being better than the other.

And always watching. Finally I was able to overcome my inhibitions, those inner qualms that prevented me from touching another man's penis. I relished its rhythmic motion, those thrusts that took my son into another realm. Occasionally, his penis responded and he became erect. That was the sure-fire sign that he was close to orgasm. I watched him twitch, shudder uncontrollably, groan in ecstasy. Was it possible for a boy to experience sexual climax almost continuously? Both boys reached that delirious peak so often that I wondered whether they were pretending. At first they became agitated, gasping and writhing as sensations overpowered their bodies. Then, no longer frenzied, lying quietly, abandoned to the intoxicating euphoria, panting for air as waves of pleasure swept over them.

We tired, yet our penises stayed hard. Rock hard! Harder than I could remember being in my entire life. Relentlessly erect! Making love to our sons with unflinching unappeased need. It was ruthless, in a way. A person had to be determined to last the distance. To stave off exhaustion for the sole purpose of making love to a boy for as long as humanly possible.

The boys talked on and off, whispering, sharing, exchanging feelings. I learned more about my son than I expected. Had I once wondered whether Grant was gay, or merely going through a pre-pubescent phase? That uncertain time seemed so far away. That night, he embraced the lifestyle and made it an undisputable part of who he was. There were no questions. Brandon too, showing that side of him that I had frequently glimpsed and later fantasized about. I heard him begging for it harder, deeper, faster. I listened to him squealing in shameless joy as my penis pounded through his bowels. He was offering his body to me in sacrifice, giving me the gift of his emerging sexuality and without any restraint beyond that I satisfy his urge. We made love, had sex, and fucked. We fucked like two wild animals.

Interestingly, we started with different styles. What do they say about form following function? Instead, function followed form. Gary's penis, short, broad, thicker in the middle, stayed deep. Once inserted, it seldom came back past the halfway point. Fully six inches [15 cm] reduced to three inches [7½ cm] of movement, back and forth in endless pistoning. Only two inches [5 cm] when it was used in short, fast jabs, but it occurred in the immediate vicinity of Grant's prostate gland. No wonder he was constantly subjected to orgasm fervor.

My penis was longer, not as wide, equally thick from head to base. Eight inches [20 cm] of length was necessarily reduced to six inches [15 cm]. However, I could withdraw until only my glans remained within Brandon. This had the result that five inches [12½ cm] of my penis moved freely within his rectum. I used long strokes. I used slow strokes, always deep strokes. Pulling back until Brandon's anus locked behind my glans in a desperate attempt to prevent removal, holding me inside his body. Then, sliding back inside him in a single thrust. I belonged there, buried within the pulpy cavern, seduced by his squelchy softness.

Part of the joy was watching Grant and Gary going at it. For the first time I truly realized what it was like for Grant. He held nothing back. He was seduced by sybaritic pleasure as much as I was. He may have been on the receiving end, but if the state of his penis was any indication, he was just as happy as I was.

Grant's penis was largely untouched by Brandon or me. Despite that lack of attention, it stayed half-erect, languishing as a graceful slender arc that flopped on his slim thigh. At best, it was a little over three inches [7½ cm] long from tip to base, of that a half an inch [12 mm] was prepuce. Occasionally it stiffened further, reaching outward to its full length as he reached the peak of ecstasy. Barely seconds would pass before it diminished in size again, temporarily satisfied. Again and again he achieved that sublime state of anal orgasm, counting each time he climaxed with increasing curiosity and pride. Five times!

With my penis buried deep within Brandon, the count was certainly no less. I depended upon that sudden frenzied spasm of tightening inner muscles that young boys experience to tell me what was going on inside him. More than once, I felt between his legs. Not hard! If anything, his penis was shrivelled to a tiny knob. Sometimes, I tried to get him excited there, rubbing his exposed glans between my fingertips until he wriggled uncomfortably. However, there was no increase in stiffness. His penis stayed dormant the entire time. I focused my efforts on his testicles, cupped them in my hand, fondled them, stroked them, rolled them between my fingers. After a few minutes, he clenched my penis inside him, squeezing valiantly.

"You like that?" I asked softly.

Brandon nodded slightly. He enjoyed that and was more than capable of letting me know. I kept my hand there, rubbing over his gonads, caressing the silky skin of his rounded pouch. So different to Grant. Brandon's testicles felt much larger. They were much larger. They felt as if they were big enough that I could not hurt them no matter how hard I squeezed. Grant squealed whenever I played too hard. 'Tiny nuts', I teased him, were 'delicate nuts'. Like peanuts, they were 'nuts to be savored and treated carefully'. I felt Brandon's testicles between my fingers. Firm, bigger than marbles, nearly as big as bird's eggs.

As time passed, we began to move in unison, thrusting simultaneously, instinctively seeking to give the boys identical sensations. Unified. Unity. All parts integrated into a whole. Four bodies, one 'being'. I began to think I would never climax. I would do this for the rest of my life. I would die doing this.

"Getting tired?" Gary asked between pants.

"Who me?" I gasped.

I settled down slowly, leaving my penis comfortably ensconced. I breathed deeply. It was hard to imagine that a boy's small body could become so loose.

"I'm getting tired," I admitted. "I didn't realize it would be such hard work."

"Yo, Dad," Grant teased weakly.

"You be quiet," I admonished with a laugh. "We're the ones doing all the work."

Playfully I fingered Grant's anus. It was relaxed, no longer tight. However, every time that Gary pushed in, my son's anus disappeared. When he withdrew, his penis dragged a fold of skin outward. It was like a mouth, a hungry little mouth. Back and forth. In and out. Rotating his hips when he was all the way inside, working his rigid member around and around until Grant was twisting and turning with him, working his small bony pelvis in erratic circles.

"Look at that boy go," Gary gushed between breaths. "Yeah, go for it, Gee-Tee. You're so close. Just let build for a while. You'll get it eventually."

"I… I can't," Grant whined. "I want to… I'm trying…"

I gripped his hips with my hands, held him tightly, held him so that he could not be pushed away as Gary's penis punched into him. Each time he pulled away, I felt the tug on Grant's body. At the same time, Gary restrained Brandon's movement. It felt strange, mutually offering and taking our sons to a higher place. I could hear one of the boys whimpering, another groaning softly as we pumped with all our strength. Building to the inevitable, reaching one plateau, only to be confronted by something that always seemed just out of reach.

"Does it hurt?"

"No… 'sokay. I want to… only I can't stop shaking," Grant moaned.

"He's getting worn out, Gary," I observed. "So's Brandon for that matter."

"Don't stop," Grant groaned.

"I warned you it was going to be a marathon session, didn't I Chris?" Gary huffed.

If I still had the strength, I would have laughed. "Yeah, you warned me."

"Man, my dick is ready to break off, but you get a boy all worked up and mushy like the way these two are and it's darned near impossible to stop."

"It feels like I've been close for a long while," I gushed.

"It's like that sometimes. You can't cum because you're too wound up," Gary explained.

"Faster, Chris," Brandon encouraged.

"Go in all the way. Then do it as hard as you can."

"Don't want to hurt him," I gasped.

"Don't worry about it. You won't. He needs it deep and fast. It'll bring him off too."

"God, I… I don't think I can do this much longer," I groaned.

My penis was insensate, throbbing mercilessly, distended with prominent swollen veins, bigger than seemed humanly possible. I existed for a single purpose. To fuck. To fuck the beautiful young boy before me. I tried. I watched Gary's penis, like mine pulling completely out of Grant's slackened anus before punching back inside. Each thrust, each powerful lunge brought us closer to the edge. Grunting loudly, feeling the boys shudder as we bore down and rammed our man-parts into their bodies, almost beyond caring, still desperate to show our love.

The sounds grew louder. The sound of wet suction, squishing from within, churning the juices into a foamy sloppy mess that oozed between us, escaped, dribbled down across Grant's almost non-existent scrotum. Could his anus take much more? Could it get any bigger? Faster. Jabbing my man-sex into that weakened place. Taking him higher. Both straining. Wanting to cry out. Wanting to let out the pent-up pressure in my aching groin. Struggling to keep it in on the outward stroke. Listening to him gasp and gurgle. Hearing the sound of Gary's penis. Seeing flecks of foam gathering at Grant's anus. Knowing it was impossible.

Grant started to shake. His knees trembled, began to jerk uncontrollably. Was it possible? Gary slammed harder, faster, deeper. Grant shuddered. Quaked. I grasped his hips, held him rigid, realized that Gary was doing the same for Brandon. It had become a race to see who could finish first. I pumped with all my remaining strength, summoning everything I had left. The crescendo came, went, came again. My penis was as hot and hard as forged iron, plunging into a seething furnace, no longer melting in that lush softness. I was no longer giving, but taking.

"Faster," Brandon hissed.

"Harder," Grant gasped.

'Faster', 'harder', straining to get all the way inside, pushing beyond nature's limit. Another crescendo. Still not enough. My pubis was against Brandon's flesh, my penis was all the way inside his body. Back out again. In again. One of the boys was sobbing. Grant? Brandon? Did it matter? Love became selfish. Love was demanding. Men won and boys lost. Lost what? It wasn't a game. It was coming. Rising up. Tightening. Grunting names, 'Grant', Brandon', 'Grant'. Enough? Not yet! It had never been so difficult. It had never been so hard. Yes! Yes!

"YES!"

"Oh God!"

"Fuck me!"

"Dad, do it."

Looking down, I witnessed the miracle. Gary's penis was embedded all the way inside Grant's bowels. The ring of my son's distended anus was clamped around the very base of the man's shaft, glistening pale flesh pressed up against a dark, wet hairy mound. The junction between penis and scrotum was barely visible. Yet it was enough. That thick tube within Gary's penis expanded, growing before my eyes. It pulsed, again and again, and the bulge increased in size. His ejaculation was momentarily held back by a boy's anus. Then pressure increased enough for the flood gate to open. Another pulse, stronger than all the others that had preceded it. Bursting free. Exploding. No bulge, not any more. A sound that my brain told me was the sound of semen squirting into my son.

Grant was lying very still. Brandon was shaking. Both of us were still moving. Relentlessly moving. Slowing down. Pumping it out. Still pulsing. Again and again. Very slowly. Barely able to breath. Had I climaxed as well? He felt looser. Wetter. Sloppy. Semen slippery. Fluids squirting along the length of my penis. Flowing between us.

"God!"

"Hot damn!"

"Sweet!"

"Dad!" Grant grinned even as he huffed. "Can't you think… of a better word?"

I collapsed. There was no better word. 'Sweet' said it all. It was 'sweet'. Wonderfully sweet. That was what loving a boy was all about. And it was 'awesome', and 'cool', and just about everything else I could think of. I would never be the same again. Grant realized it, and so did Brandon. And Gary knew it, too. He had known it all along. We were in this together. I breathed deeply. I tried to think it through, but it was impossible with a thousand different thoughts jockeying for position in my head.

"Are you okay?" I asked awkwardly.

"Uh huh."

"Yeah. I'm just really, really tired."

"I bet you are." Gary said. "Take it easy for a few minutes, Grant. You're okay. It takes a while to get over it."

"Are you going to take him out?"

There was a pleading note in Grant's voice. It was impossible to determine what he wanted. Leave it in? Take it out? He had to be feeling sore after almost an hour of constant pummeling.

"Does it hurt?" Brandon asked softly. His voice was little more than a murmur.

"Sort of. It feels so big… and gooey. My insides feel kinda like mushed up jelly."

'Mashed up jelly'! I winced. His bowels had been pulverized. It was my fault. No matter that Grant was often very capable of mature thoughts, he was still a boy. He was a very young boy. We had done too much, too soon, and it was my fault. I should have exercised better judgement. I should not have allowed myself to be seduced. If anyone should have known better, I should have. And now, it was too late to stop, too late to turn back, too late to change direction.

I breathed out, thinking aloud of the line by Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth, "What's done cannot be undone."

"And all's spent, Where our desire is got without content."

Grant smiled gleefully, ever his father's son. I was proud of him. There were not many ten-year-old boys who could quote Shakespeare.

I laughed. "So said Lady Macbeth, Grant, but it was in a different context, I think. She wasn't talking about a boy with an ass full of a man's sperm."

He giggled. "I don't know. You're certainly spent, Dad. And Brandon and I are not going to be content until…"

He let the words hang. I understood. He wanted more. He wanted me. He would always want more from me.

The End