Damn, that was the weirdest dream, thought Jeremy, as he rolled over, massaged his morning wood, and slowly pried open one eye. I must have had a lot more to drink than I realized. Five o'clock! Gotta get up and milk the cows. After draining his bladder and slapping some cold water on his stubbled face, he returned to the bedroom, still too dazed and tired to fully grasp his alien surroundings. He threw back the curtains, expecting to be greeted by the Wyoming pre-dawn haze. Instead, his eyes were assaulted by the fierce rays of the New Orleans summer sun. He recoiled and stared again at the clock on the nightstand. Five-o-three! Afternoon? No! What is this? Where am I? Lavender walls? What the fuck! My bedroom isn't lavender; it's blue for chrissakes! The bed, the furniture, the wall hangings--none of it seemed real. Then, he spotted the note tucked half way under the alarm clock. 'Thanks, cowboy. Had to run some errands. Hope you slept well. Can't wait to see you again and pick up where we left off. Brandon.'

Brandon? Oh, yeah. The cute kid in my dream.

'We've gotta talk.'

The voice startled Jeremy. Reflexively, he dropped the note and turned sharply to find Brad...uh, Ford...standing in the doorway. All of a sudden, it all came flooding back to him. It wasn't a dream. He really did get sucked off in that gay bar, spend the night with his incredibly handsome future brother-in-law (the hunk now glaring at him in the bedroom), and fuck the shit out of the most adorable kid west of the Mississippi.

'And put some damn clothes on!'

Jeremy looked down to confirm that he was, indeed, stark naked. He also realized that he was still sporting a partial boner. Instinctively, he stroked it a couple of times and then looked up again at Ford and blushed. Ford stared back with a mixture of anger and lust.

'They're in the living room,' Jeremy mumbled. 'My clothes.' Ford didn't budge from the doorway. As Jeremy squeezed past him, his half-hard cock brushed against the back of Ford's hairy hand. He froze. Their eyes locked on each other. Time evaporated. Fire surged in Ford's dark eyes.

'Goddam you, you bastard! Why do you have to be so fuckin' hot?' Ford clamped onto Jeremy's dick with one hand and threw his other arm around his shoulders. He pulled the naked stud close and devoured his tongue. He squeezed his growing manhood and then grabbed his ass to rub their crotches together. He knew it was wrong. He had come home to tell Jeremy so. It was all one terrible, unfortunate mistake--one they must never speak of and certainly never allow to happen again. Yeah, right! Tell that to my fuckin' cock! The battle raged between the dark-haired head on Ford's shoulders and the tingling purple one on his cock, and the one on his shoulders was clearly losing.

Once again, it was the doorbell that broke their concentration. 'Damn! That's Kenny. Get dressed!' Ford peeked through the peephole to make sure that the visitor was, in fact, his patrol partner before opening the door. Kenny stepped in just as Jeremy was retrieving his briefs from the living room floor.

'Holy shit, Brad, you're right! He is a fuckin' stud!'

The remark threw Jeremy at first, and then he recalled that Ford's friends called him Brad and that Kenny was the hairy hulk he had seen getting fucked by the fireman on the pool table at the bar.

Brad (Ford) shot a disapproving leer at Kenny. 'Stifle it, man. I'll be right back.' He tramped into his bedroom, snatched up a small bag, and began to stuff it with his toiletries and a few articles of clothing. Then, he spotted it: the piece of paper on the floor. He scanned the note from Brandon, dismissed it, and tossed it into the waste basket.

Meanwhile, Jeremy dressed nervously as Kenny stood over him and ogled him like one of the erotic dancers at the Oz.

'Kenny!' scolded Ford. 'Let's go!'

Jeremy glimpsed the bag in Ford's hand. 'Ford, what's...?'

'I'm gonna crash at Kenny's for the rest of the weekend.' snapped Ford. 'Make yourself at home,' he added frostily. 'I left a key for you on the nightstand.'

'But, Ford....'

Ford was out the door before Jeremy could finish his sentence, and Kenny trailed belatedly behind, grinning as he sized up Jeremy one last time.

Amy! Jeremy hadn't spoken to his fiancee since she and her parents dropped him off at Bourbon Street. Gotta give her a call. He needed to hear her voice. Of course, he couldn't tell her what he had done, but somehow he had to pull himself back into reality. He had to make sure that he hadn't completely fucked everything up.

'I know, sweetie. I wish we could talk longer too, but I've got a million things to take care of. You just enjoy yourself, and I'll see you at the rehearsal.'

Enjoy myself? That's the fuckin' problem, thought Jeremy. I'm enjoying myself too damn much, and I just don't understand it.

For the next six hours or so, Jeremy cruised the French Quarter, trying to clear his head, but the din of Southern Decadence made that impossible. Instead of treating himself to a fine meal at Brennan's or Galatoire's, he stuffed his face with hot dogs and pretzels from sidewalk vendors. When he got back to Ford's apartment, he tried calling on his cell phone, but there was no answer. He started to leave a message, but he didn't want to sound desperate, so he just hung up. He undressed, got into the big, empty bed, and spent another sleepless night.

Saturday morning. Jeremy called the Leveque house to speak with Amy, but Mrs. Leveque informed him that she had gone out to take care of some arrangements. 'Have you been to Audubon Park yet? It's a marvelous place and such a lovely day for it.' He asked to speak to Brandon, thinking he might like to tour the park with him. 'Oh, I'm sorry, he had to go back to Texas.'

'Is there a problem?'

'Oh, no. Just something he had to take care of at the farm. I'm sure you know how that is. He'll be back in time for the wedding, though.'

So, Jeremy spent the day at Audubon Park--alone.

When he got back to the apartment, he heard noises coming from the bedroom. 'Ford?' He was eager to see him again. They really did need to sit down and talk. But it wasn't Ford.

'Kenny, what are you doing here, and who's this?'

'Oh, hey, Jeremy. This is my partner Kyle.'

'I thought Ford was your partner.'

'Other kind of partner,' said Kenny, with a wink.

Then it hit him. Kyle was the fireman who banged Kenny on the pool table at the bar Thursday night. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Kyle was a mountain of a man, the Paul Bunyan type, built like a brick shithouse. A neatly trimmed beard and mustache framed his carved face, just made for Mt. Rushmore. A profusion of fur transgressed the neckline of the skin-tight T-shirt that gripped his massive chest. More dark hair poked out from under his New Orleans Saints cap. His powerful handshake emulated a motorized vice, carefully calculated to apply just the right amount of pressure. His physical presence contrasted ironically with his radiant, almost child-like smile. Jeremy understood immediately why Kenny had fallen under Kyle's magical spell. Hell, who wouldn't?

'I said, Brad asked us to pick up a few of his things,' Kenny repeated, breaking Jeremy's fixation on Kyle, the gentle giant.

'Oh...uh...why didn't he come get them himself?

'I think you know the answer to that question, Jeremy.'

'No, I don't, Kenny. In fact, I don't know much of anything any more,' Jeremy vented.

Kenny approached Jeremy and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'Look, Jeremy, this is really none of my business, but I think Brad likes you--I mean, really likes you--but you're about to marry his fuckin' sister for chrissakes!'

'But I just wanna see him, talk to him, and....'

'And what, Jeremy? What the hell do you expect him to do?'

'I dunno, I just.... I don't know, dammit!' Jeremy threw himself face down across the bed and choked back his emotions. Kenny and Kyle glanced at each other and then sat on either side of him. Their warm, comforting hands on his arms and back electrified his entire body, but especially the nerve center located in his groin.

Jeremy rolled over to face the two hunks. 'Look, guys. I'm not gay.' (Yeah, right! You've just got a snake crawling around in your jeans.) 'I don't know what came over me with Ford and Brandon, but I....'

'What? Brandon too?'

'Oh, my God!' Jeremy suddenly realized his slip. 'Please don't tell Ford--or Amy!--it was just an accident. I never meant....'

'Look, Jeremy,' said Kenny, petting the cowboy's heaving chest, 'what you do is your business. Don't ask, don't tell. Ya know what I mean? But I think you need to decide what you really want. Your words say one thing, but this....' He squeezed the thick hose between Jeremy's legs. 'This tells a whole 'nutha story, buddy.'

Jeremy lay silent, caught in the dilemma. He stared at Kenny and then at Kyle, who, at that point, was now rubbing his hand along the inside of Jeremy's thigh and against his scrotum. Kenny leaned ever so slowly toward Jeremy and, seeing the desire in his eyes, kissed him. Jeremy transformed from a passive subject to an aggressive participant. When Kenny finally pulled back, Kyle moved in, but half way into his cautious descent, Jeremy threw his hands around Kyle's thick neck and yanked him tight, blasting his way into the fireman's eager mouth. Kenny lustfully watched the cowboy swallow his lover's tongue and then joined them in a kiss-and-lick slobberfest.

Kyle reached up under Jeremy's shirt to massage his rock-hard chest and ripped abs while Kenny slipped his hand beneath Jeremy's jeans to play with his rambunctious reptile. Jeremy reciprocated, pawing at the two men's hefty baskets. Kyle pulled off Jeremy's shirt and went to work on his nipples, alternately sucking and pinching them. As Jeremy moaned in delirium, Kenny hastily removed the rest of his clothes. Kyle and Kenny worked on their subject from both sides. Each sucked a nip while Kenny rubbed Jeremy's balls and Kyle pumped his shaft. The stimulation was almost more than Jeremy could bear. 'Oh, God! Oh, shit! Damn! Oh! Ah! Oh! Fuck!'

But that was nothing compared to what Jeremy was about to experience. When Kenny licked his balls and the tender zone below them and Kyle swallowed his tingling cock, Jeremy nearly bolted off the bed. His screams rivaled the noises of the Southern Decadence party-goers on the streets below. On any other weekend, the neighbors might have called the cops. How could they know that there was already one there?

Knowing where Ford kept his lubricant, Kenny reached into the nightstand and grabbed the small bottle. He applied a generous portion to Jeremy's cock and then to his own asshole. Then, just as Brandon had done before, he straddled Jeremy and lowered himself onto his stiff pole. Jeremy pumped like a piston.

'Hold on,' urged Kyle. 'Don't shoot yet.' Then, much to Jeremy's amazement, Kyle positioned himself behind Kenny, lubed his dick, and slowly pressed it up Kenny's man pussy alongside Jeremy's massive rod. Not only could Jeremy not believe that Kenny's asshole could take both enormous dicks, but he was captivated by the feel of Kyle's swollen cock rubbing so tightly against his own.

'I can't hold it!' yelled Jeremy. 'I'm gonna cum!' And cum he did, blasting almost a dozen volleys up Kenny's love canal. Then, Jeremy felt the pulsating rhythm of Kyle's cock as the fireman pumped load after load of his hot jizz into the same tunnel that had just received his own. And, just as he had done at the bar, Kenny squirted streams of creamy seed without even touching his cock--only this time, it stretched from the top of Jeremy's head to his lush pubic region. Kenny flopped over on top of Jeremy, still squeezing his cock in his tight ass. Kyle started to withdraw, but Jeremy grunted and pulled him back. He wasn't ready to lose contact with him yet. Hell, he didn't ever want to lose that feeling.

When the three dicks finally went limp, Kenny rolled over beside Jeremy, and Kyle plopped down on the other side, but first, he retrieved the bottle of lube he had tossed onto the bed and greased his resurrecting tool one more time. Then, breathing heavily and intimately into Jeremy's face, he asked, 'So, Jeremy, has that sweet ass of yours ever been fucked by a man before?'


Brock Archer

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