Jeremy M fidgeted.

It was Friday afternoon and he didn't want to be inside. He wanted to be on his bike. He wanted to be heading over to the Provincetown ferry terminal. He looked over at a perky blond woman sitting two chairs away from him, who was arguing animatedly, gesticulating with her hands.

"All I am saying is, I don't think we should be thinking of David Copperfield as some kind of Jesus figure. It's too early. Yes, he suffers, but he is hardly worthy of that kind of comparison. Especially in these early chapters!"

On the other side of the room, his friend Marcel crossed himself at the mention of Jesus. Despite the fact that he hated these sessions with the other English TAs, Jeremy M smiled. Jeremy M knew that Marcel had absolutely no religious affinities whatsoever.

The blond glared briefly at Marcel, who held his outstretched fingers over his chin as if to say, "what? Me?"

Jeremy tied to stifle a laugh, but failed. Everyone else in the room looked at him.  He cleared his throat and apologized, almost meaning it.

Jeremy and the other English TAs in Professor Clifford Keatings class were meeting on Friday afternoon to agree on how they would grade the mid term essays on David Copperfield that were produced by the freshmen this week. Sometimes they were some really creative essay topics that the first years came up with, sometimes there some totally wacky ones. Little David as Baby Jesus fell into the latter category. But since there seemed to be a few freshman who wrote of Young David the deity, there had probably been some who set up a study group and came up with them idea together.  What they were discussing this afternoon was how to evaluate this particular form of off target interpretation consistently.

Marcel spoke.

"No way!  All kidding aside now, this whole approach is just wrong!  David was not acting like a God. He is just a little kid who got stuck in a lousy situation. He is doing the best he can!  But he is certainly not deific."

Jeremy M watched Marcel argue with the blond woman. Even though Marcel was black, Jeremy could see his face redden, even from across the room. Marcel was usually a pretty quiet guy, but he could be intense when something really mattered to him. Today was one of those times. Clearly, Marcel thought that this whole religious tack was just too far away from the real point of the story. New ideas were always welcomed, Marcel was arguing, but not this one.

"But to deny the possibility that Dickens intended to imbue David with these qualities early on, when we clearly see such qualities later in the book, is to disrespect his intentions," she said.

Jeremy M watched Marcel shake his head emphatically no. Marcel's dreadlocks barely moved.

"You're kidding, right?" Marcel asked her incredulously.  "David bit the man who was treating him like a dog!  The man who was already bopping his poor widowed mother. Would Jesus do that?"

Everyone in the room laughed.  Even the blond managed a grin. Jeremy M doubted that Jesus would bite Mr. Stupid, maybe just punch him out instead.

The debate raged on, but clearly the room was with Marcel. In the end, the English TAs agreed not to actually fail the group of students who turned young David into a God. But they were not going to give out any high grades for that line of reasoning either.

Jeremy M emerged from the building and squinted at the glorious sunshine. He unlocked his bike  from the rack, checked his tire pressure, and hopped on. It was a short ride across town to the ferry station, but the early Friday afternoon traffic would make it a nail biter.

The Provincetown ferry terminal was in Boston Harbor, close to the north end.  Unless traffic through the city was completely ridiculous, Jeremy M would make the 5:30 ferry in plenty of time. He already had his ticket, he had even paid the extra six bucks it cost to bring his bike.

He loved Ptown. Who didn't? It was at the end of the earth, a thin swirl of land at the very tip of Cape Cod. It's extreme location set it apart from the crazy congestion of Boston. And it was not accident that artists, musicians, writers, stoners, gays, liberals and other societal outcasts liked it there. It meant freedom!  To be who you were, whoever or whatever that was!  It was an amazing place and since he had been in Boston Jeremy M tried to get out there as often as he could.

Jeremy M was not actually going to be in Ptown very long this time. He was meeting his friends to stay overnight tonight, but then he was intending to head out on his bike Saturday morning and make it back to Boston by late afternoon. It was a great long ride back along the Cape. It could be a little challenging to stay off the main highway and navigate the smaller roads, but Jeremy M loved all the little quaint towns along the way and didn't mind a but if he got lost. There was no easy way for a triathlete like Jeremy M to get In a long ride around Boston, so getting out of the city like this was absolutely mandatory.

He had a date in Back Bay Saturday night.  Sunday he would look at his stack of Copperfield essays and have them ready for the Professor by Monday morning.

Oh well!  The life of a grad student at BU!

When Jeremy M arrived at the harbor, it was already crowded. Lots of people heading out for the weekend. Beside the various fast and slow ferries bound for Ptown, there were fishing boats, whale watching boats, commuter boats heading up and down the coast, and some massive hydrofoil painted to look like a shark. He made his way toward his ferry and dropped into line.

Less than two hours later Jeremy M was standing on Commercial Street, his backpack glued by sweat to the center of his back. He had packed light. He didn't need much for one overnight and he especially didn't need to be carrying some giant suitcase on his bike ride back along the cape.

Jeremy M called his friends to let them he'd arrived.

Paolo and Donnie were a couple guys he had met when he was an undergrad at Fairfield University in Connecticut. They lived in New Haven and were not students. Donnie was some kind of clerk in the town of Fairfield and was having lunch all by himself downtown when Jeremy M walked in carrying a backpack full of books that was nearly larger than Jeremy himself.

Donnie's eyes studied every inch of Jeremy M's young, hard collegiate body as he struggled to slip his overstuffed backpack into a booth. Returning the favor, Jeremy M couldn't keep from stealing glances at Donnie who was reading from a stack of papers while he waited for his lunch to arrive. Donnie was black, with closely cropped hair and a perfectly trimmed little beard at the tip of his chin that rose up and encircled his lips.  Exactly Jeremy M's type.

While Jeremy M ordered, another waiter brought out Donnie's lunch. The two of them watched each other closely, a mating dance with their eyes that could end only one way.

Jeremy M hadn't intended on actually being fucked in the bathroom stall of that little restaurant that day. But it was a nice distraction from all the reading he had to do for his classes so he went along happily. Besides Donnie had a nice smooth body, a tiny patch of short pubic hair trimmed as neatly as his beard, and an ample cock. Faced with all that, what was a college student to do? Ignore him?

It was only later that semester that Donnie had admitted to Jeremy M that there was a boyfriend. Donnie had Jeremy M's dick in his mouth at the time, so the bad news was only a minor distraction.

That boyfriend was Paolo, who was originally from Brazil and worked as an accountant in Norwalk. Paolo was alleged to have a larger penis than Donnie and was apparently not the jealous type when it came to Donnie's screwing around the side. It was the first time that Jeremy M considered the possibility that such a happy and open relationship could exist. In Connecticut!

The three of them became friends. He would make his way up to New Haven on bike. Or they would drive down to Fairfield. Donnie and Jeremy M continued to have sex. Usually in Jeremy M's dorm room when his roommate was away. Sometimes in Donnie's office. Even a couple times in Donnie's Volvo. But Jeremy M never got to actually see Paolo's famous dick. Donnie described it as an epic penis. Surely Jeremy M was intrigued. But how exactly did one handle a situation like this?

After Jeremy M graduated, he moved up Boston and became a Master's student in English at Boston University. He continued to talk with his friends in New Haven on occasion. He was pretty sure that Donnie had moved on, having found himself another hard-bodied undergrad at Fairfield. This weekend Jeremy would find out. It was the first time he had ever stayed over at their weekend place in Ptown.

And Jeremy M wondered whether he would be having sex tonight.

It was a short ride from the ferry drop off on Commercial Street to Donnie and Paolo's house. Jeremy M found his way there easily, Provincetown was a pretty tiny place.   Donnie was standing outside in the garden, watering flowers.

"Hey Jeremy, welcome to paradise!" Donnie called out.

Jeremy M leaned his bike against the little fence and gave Donnie a hug.

"Cool place," Jeremy M said. "You guys are so lucky to be so close to everything!"

Donnie called out to Paolo who came outside holding a tray of freshly baked parmesan twists. They were still steaming. In his other hand, Paolo held a pitcher filled with what look like a margarita.

"He baked," Donnie said unnecessarily. "I just can't keep him from filling me with more and more carbs. I am never going to be thin again!" Donnie shrieked.

"Go and get some glasses, fatso," Paolo commanded his ridiculously thin boyfriend. "Poor little Jeremy looks thirsty after his long ferry ride from Boston!"

"I am," Jeremy M agreed. "And starving too!  What are we eating?"

"His famous cheese things, they are deadly," Donnie said, retreating into the house to fetch the margarita glasses.

Paolo smirked and set down his tray. The basket was lined with blue and white gingham.  Perfect for Ptown, they had probably bought it in town. Jeremy M leaned in to take a sniff and let the pungent aroma of melted cheese flip a hunger switch in his brain.

Two pitchers of margarita later, the three of them sat lazily on the patio. They were unable to make any decisions about heading into town for dinner. Jeremy M was happily buzzed, his stomach full of Paolo's cheese twists. Jeremy M's backpack lay on the ground beside the outside table. His bike was still leaning against the fence.

Somehow the three boys worked through their tequila haze and managed to get Jeremy M's bike into the house. They each put on some jeans and decided that they would stick to a Mexican theme. Paolo knew a guy who waited tables at the city's only Mexican restaurant, La something or other. So that's where they went.

When they were finally seated, and their little basket filled with greasy tortilla chips, Donnie finally asked what Jeremy M had been expecting since he'd arrived.

"Okay, it's time we hear about how you are really doing in Boston, Jeremy," Donnie said with a leer. "Or better still, it's who you are doing..."

They all laughed. Everything was much funnier after the two pitchers of margaritas. Jeremy M took a long sip from his plastic tumbler of water and looked at his two friends.

"Um, I love it there. I am getting to do a little teaching, and there's a small stipend on the side. I have a ton of writing to get through, and even more reading. But it works for me I guess.  I do miss you guys though," Jeremy said. "I really enjoyed hanging out with both of you in New Haven."

Jeremy M was drunk, and he really just wanted to go back to their condo and have a three way. He didn't really want any Mexican food.

"That's great," Paolo said in his thick Brazilian accent. He was sort of drunk too, so he just sounded even sexier than usual.

Jeremy M looked at Paolo's chest.  He was naturally dark skinned, and loved to wear his shirts open a few buttons down from his neck. To some that might come off as sleazy, but to Jeremy M, it just reminded him that he had never seen Paolo without his clothes on and how much he wanted to jump his bones.

Paolo had gorgeous, piercing green eyes that somehow looked almost emerald behind the silver rimmed glasses he wore. His face was flawless.  He hadn't shaved in a few days, which gave Paolo a swarthy Latin look that Jeremy M imagined would still look amazing when Paolo's face was buried in his ass. Jeremy M felt a tiny drop of saliva form at the corner of his mouth.

"So what exactly are you going to do with this Masters you are getting? In English?" Donnie asked him

Jeremy M drew a big breath and used his forearm to win the corner of his mouth. He chuckled. Jeremy M wished he'd had a dollar for every time he'd been asked that question. Especially by his parents.

"Honestly boys," he said. "I have no fucking idea!"

They all laughed.

"Maybe you could write speeches for the President," Paolo suggested.

How cute was that?  Jeremy M decided that Paolo would be the lucky one to fuck him first.  If they could just get out of this place and head back to the condo. The waiter finally came and they ordered. Jeremy M allowed himself to be talked into some kind of mole chimichanga, that was apparently the special of the house.   While they waited for the food to come, they munched chips. Donnie and Paolo ordered more margaritas, made from some Cadillac brand of tequila. Jeremy M tried to protest, but he was outvoted.

Hours and hours later, they finally paid the bill and staggered out into the street. Jeremy M needed propping up in order to walk. Paolo did the honors. Jeremy M had no idea where his own legs were, and allowed himself to be led along the street by his friends.

When they got back, Jeremy M insisted that he just go to sleep on the floor in his clothes. That way if he threw up--which seemed pretty likely--at least he wouldn't mess up their couch. But Donnie insisted that Jeremy M lie on the couch since that would be more comfortable. Despite himself, Jeremy M allowed his hosts to take his clothes off. He had a vague understanding that his dick was hard when they did, although he couldn't be sure. Nobody seemed to be touching it, if indeed his dick was hard. So maybe it wasn't. When they turned the light off, he curled up under his blanket and tried to make the world stop spinning. He woke up in the morning with the worst headache anyone in the world had ever had in the history of headaches.


The voice was raspy and dry.  Jeremy M recognized it loosely as his own.

"Water.  I need water," the voice said again.

In another room, Jeremy M heard a miracle. He distinctly detected the sound of water being poured into a glass. He took two deep breaths. How on earth was he supposed to stand up and go and get that water?

"Here you go. I hate to see you suffer."

Jeremy M opened his eyes. It was Paolo. He was holding the glass of water out to him. Jeremy smiled and thanked him. He reached out for the water and put it to his parched lips.

"Thank you," Jeremy M said quietly. Speaking hurt his throat.

"Careful sporto," Paolo said. "Go slow."

Jeremy M had already finished half of the glass. Slow? What the fuck?  He needed like five of these!  But he did as he was told and pulled it away for his lips for a second. Then he put it back and downed the rest of it. Paolo smiled. Gradually, as his stomach filled with water, Jeremy M focused on the hot Brazilian boy standing in front of him.

Paolo seemed to recognize Jeremy's improvement.  He was standing there without much on and he smelled like Brazilian food to Jeremy M. Delicious Brazilian food. Not that Jeremy M had ever had Brazilian food, but what he imagined it would smell like. Paolo www wearing a small pair of boxer shorts that curiously matched the Gingham towel Jeremy M had seen last night holding the cheese twists.

Uh oh.

The thought of cheese twists reached some important part of Jeremy M's brain.  Now he really had to throw up!

"You are white," Paolo exclaimed.

Jeremy M cupped his hand over his mouth and looked up at Paolo.  His host stuck out his arm and pointed with a finger.

"Bathroom is over there!"

Jeremy M thre back his blanket, saw that he was naked, and jumped to his feet. He made it to the toilet, but it was a close one. When the wrenching was done Jeremy M felt much better. He still had a headache, but at least he felt strangely light and fluid. Cleaning up at the sink, Jeremy M found some mouthwash and gargles a few times. He regarded himself in the mirror. His red hair stood up in lumps and patches. His eyes were bloodshot and roughly matched his color. Or were they redder?  There was a crumb of tortilla chip stuck to that space in the center of his chest. He left it there.  It was food after all, who knew if just touching it would make him barf again?  He looked down at his penis dangling below the lip of the granite bathroom counter. Hmm.

Paolo had obviously just seen him without any clothes on. Jeremy M wondered if he'd helped Donnie to remove his clothes last night. Had he had an erection then?  He had some faint recollection of being hard. Of wishing somebody, anybody, would take his dick in their mouth.

Had they?

Jeremy M examined himself, feeling about for telltale signs of dried up saliva. Or semen.  There was a little flake of something on the underside of Jeremy M's dick, but he couldn't be sure. Maybe that was just another tortilla chip.  How exactly did he get a chip down there?  Unless it was from somebody's?  I mean, they both ate tortilla chips just like he had, right?

Jeremy M had his wiener in his hand, pulling it taut, looking for other clues that he'd had a blow job when Paolo knocked on the door.

"Jeremy?  You okay in there?"

"Yup," Jeremy M replied. "Be out in a sec."

"Anything I can do for you?"

Really? He wants to do something for me? Well I definitely have a few ideas, Jeremy M thought to himself. Or did you do it already?

He splashed a bit more water onto his face, rubbing the redness away at least a little.

"I'm good, thanks a lot Paolo. Be right out."

"I'll put on some coffee," Paolo said, his voice trailing away.

Jeremy M finished up in the mirror as best he could. He removed the tortilla chip from his chip and tossed it into the trash can. He allowed his fingers to brush lightly across his smooth hairless chest. As his fingers passed his nipples, they sprung to life. He felt the excitement surge in his groin. His cock thickened.  Jeremy M looked down again. He wasn't hard, of course, but he could be in about two seconds. It would take only a glance from Paolo. He smiled and opened the bathroom door. He followed his cock out of the bathroom.

Poor Paolo.

Cruising along Route 6 between Truro and Wellfleet, Jeremy M held tight to his handlebars and lifted his sore butt out of the saddle.


 The accidental clench of his butthole sent a shockwave of happy memories up and down his spine. Paolo was indeed an epic fuck. Jeremy M couldn't remember ever having been so thoroughly, totally and completely fucked. By anyone, ever. And he'd been at this since he was a very young teenager.

It was just after 12 noon. He'd gotten a much later start on his ride back to Boston than he had intended. Jeremy M put his very abused backside back on his seat, bent his elbows and pedaled hard. He wanted to make it back home before dark. It would be close. It was a beautiful and smooth endlessly straight road. There weren't many long training rides for him anywhere in the Boston area, but the Cape was amazing. Jeremy M would really enjoy himself today.

If it weren't for his very, very sore ass.

When Jeremy M had come out of the bathroom, Paolo was in the kitchen. Making coffee, just like he'd said. In his Gingham boxers. Just as he had expected, it didn't take much for Jeremy M's cock to become bone hard. Paolo looked down and it happened on cue.

While the coffee pot brewed the coffee that Jeremy M needed to stay alive, Jeremy M expertly removed Paolo's shorts and placed them around his own neck. What Jeremy M had heard from his friend Donnie about the Brazilian's weenie was true. He wasted no more time admiring it and got to work.

Jeremy M never did get any coffee while it was still warm.

Paolo was a crazy good top.  Jeremy M got fucked with his dick smashed against the dishwasher. He got fucked with his head squished between canisters of dry pasta. He even got fucked on his back atop the counter, his arms over his head holding onto the faucet for dear life.

They each came three times. Something of a record for Jeremy M before the clock struck twelve. He wondered if it was a record for Paolo, but forgot to ask. Somehow, some way, Donnie never woke up.

So Jeremy M never got his three-way. But he definitely got his two-way. Three ways.

Jeremy M took a slug of water from the bottle between his legs. Less than 24 hours ago he had been stuck in an impossibly painful discussion with his English TAS colleagues. David Copperfield would never have been able to take it up the butt by a guy like Paolo. Three times in one morning.

Speeding along the right side of the road, the cross wind whipping against his backpack, Jeremy M had a sudden memory flash from the busy week he'd had. To his surprise, his thoughts formed into words and his voice spoke them aloud.

"I wonder if that freshman in my English class would have been able to take it up the butt from a guy like Paolo?  Three times in one morning."

What was that guys name again?

Oh yeah.  TJ Something. 

Jeremy M smiled to himself.  He wondered what young TJ Something was doing right now.  He wondered what TJ had written about in his Copperfield essay.  He wondered whether or not TJ's test was in his stack at home on his desk.  He hoped so.  Maybe he'd give him a call when he got home.


TJ Tachet

[email protected]


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