Carter And Me

by Petr-Johan

4 Nov 2018 3004 readers Score 9.0 (82 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


Author's Note: Okay, you may, actually you will, notice some strange labels and large empty spaces. Thinking I would illustrate my tale of tails, I wandered around finding pictures that seemed to be in public domain, so I happily used them. Seemed a good idea and I enjoyed luridly deciding whether the balls on one guy were better than another-at my age, 'little to medium sized things' mean a lot. However, when I first tried to place it....nothing, not even a picture of the Denver Airport which, one would think, would be about as public as it gets. Apparently not. Whatever.

I enjoyed writing this first of two parts and hope you will enjoy it as well. And, if anyone knows how to do an illustrated story....I still have a version complete with pictures that I would be only too happy to replace this with.

Again, my apologies for the odd formatting and titles that are...meaningless.


My mother  was never mentioned but, when I was older, was told she'd just gone away with some guy she'd met a few weeks after my birth when she had her carburetor tuned; Apparently he did more tuning than just that. I'm not even sure Dad was ever divorced but for all intents and purposes he was a single man. Never heard from her, never knew where she went, even her own mother effectively disowned her-probably pointless as wherever she was and with whomever she was hanging out, her mother's  displeasure was unknown to her. My Dad saw to it, or rather was given no choice, that women were a part of my life. My aunt Jane had just delivered her child when my mother hit the road and so she nursed me along with her son; Predictably  he was to become my best friend, my cousin Carter. Three active sets of grandparents, several pair of aunts and uncles plus their brood of cousins...there were times when Carter and I, separately and together, would have preferred some silence and alone time.

What they did, perfectly understandable, was make sure I got all the love they

I was raised by men, accidentally,  but that’s how it was.

 thought necessary to “fill in” for a missing mother; They succeeded but almost too well. We, my father and I, usually Carter plus his Dad, never sat down to a meal, other than breakfast, without some relative dropping by or we went to their home or some kind aunt would appear at our place and just cook. Always shooing us away from the range with their hands, it was nothing, if Greg, my father, had been in a similar position he'd be over at her house cooking. Even very young children know burnt toast and scorched egg so the picture of Dad in the kitchen and knocking out omelets, chef salads, ragout of beef or even grilled cheese sandwiches was...hard to impossible to envision.

Carter and I were the equivalent of fraternal twins; to look for one of us was to find both of us to the extent that we slept together every night; No one made a plan, just wherever we were dictated where we'd bunk in, if my place was closer, it was my room, his place, his room. And, in an accidental economy, we wore each others clothes; My aunt swore we used the same toothbrush. (We did, but only at Carter’s place.)

We were envied by other guys, we seemed to get everything we wanted when in fact what we got was enough for maybe one and a half. I don't know what would have happened if we'd been different sizes-we weren't-or had very different coloring or bigger or smaller feet but, down the line, it was as if we'd been virtually cloned. Didn't look much alike but, a word we both came to dislike, we were endlessly told how much we “resembled each other”. In this we were joined by our fathers who were brothers  but also “resembled” each other. The two sons and the two fathers made their own sort of pack, what we did, we did together with, of course, others but we were our own nucleus. Aunt Jane was sort of the Den Mother to this unofficial troop of irreverent boy scouts (fathers as well as sons) and happily looked out for all of us which was no difficulty as we were usually all together or not too far apart.

Our fathers worked for varying companies and did the same very skilled blue collar job that paid a lot of money. They were good at it and discovered that their skills had even more value if they were hired in for a specific job or project. This had two advantages, the obvious being that hired guns are paid more than regular employees and just as important to them, work was never the same from year to year. There was always a definite end to whatever it was but, of course, there was always another job waiting for them. When they got around to it. Between jobs they had their families meaning Carter, me and Aunt Jane on which to lavish attention. Clever by nature and trade they built things just for the hell of it. A complicated, amazing men only tree house just for the guys-when it was warm we all sat around naked drank beer, watched whatever game was on- and a private pavilion for Aunt Jane with a spa bathroom plus a tub made for bubble baths.

I don't know how or why but...something happened at school that made all the adults worry about our being there. Carter and I for reasons that only increased as  we got older, became targets of the jealous, the stupid, the bullies. And we were prepared to fight back, did on one or two occasions. But the over arching problem was that our Dads and Jane became convinced we could get a better education in our own home-with less danger of physical damage.

Jane had a teaching     degree from the state university and, after she looked over the material involved in home schooling, said if we'd cooperate and give her a chance to get a few days ahead of the material, she thought she could handle it. One thing, to do all that meant she had to have help around the house and more than what Carter and I could do. We could be taught to do laundry and vacuum plus what we already did such as make our bed, keep a semblance of picked  up plus dust but our emphasis was to be on learning; A housekeeper was hired for a few hours each day and, to make it easier in terms of time, I moved in with Carter which almost went unnoticed, we were together so much anyway.

OUR DADS

When the guys came home they took over Phys. Ed, we went to a gym, worked out, swam, played pickup ball  games, learned to use weights, whatever was there to do, we did. They found a coach for us in swimming as we seemed to excel in that and, because we wanted to, found another school for Judo. The dads liked that as well and they found it good for everyone's discipline as well as our agility. Although it was never mentioned, it worked for them as well. Well built brothers as well as well built cousins were to be admired and, as our muscled up bodies grew and arranged themselves, so did admiration for them.

Aunt Jane proved to be a gifted teacher who loved field trips as much as we did; If there was a tour to take, we did. Over the course of the years we caught every attraction that was of any interest including industrial tours, spending a day in court watching a trial, whatever she could think of. I suppose, her theory of education, beyond what one could learn, was based on exposure leading to curiosity which led to learning which led to knowledge. Plus her interest and curiosity rubbed off on us... apparently she was right for the few times we had to take state tests to validate our home studies we were never in less than the  top one percentile. All three of them just smiled to themselves, we'd learned effortlessly, stayed out of trouble and had friends generally ones we'd made at the gym or at the Judo school so they tended to be older than we were but then we seemed older than we were. Some of the Dads friends said right out that we were being deprived of the social experience that we could get from High School but they were never able to make clear just what those “social experiences” were; Two of the more vehement of the ‘social experience’ side had their kids badly beaten by a gang...didn’t seem social to anyone We were asked to school functions such as dances or ball games. Had friends who went to school there and their stories convinced us we had it good.

We lived in two worlds; One the academic the other the social although the latter was dominated by older men doing more adult things. Early on we took up golf and tennis as well as squash, hand ball and racquetball. This at a time when the guys we knew in high school were transfixed by football, basketball, baseball and fucking or that's what it seemed like when they talked about it. To us it seemed boring, juvenile without much interest beyond the exercise which we already got and, it was easily argued, better, more structured and productive than what they got; Sitting on a bench waiting to play for three seconds didn’t seem very interesting to us.

Also, looking at football, we couldn't see the point in getting into what to us seemed the exoskeleton for a small human tank to “protect” themselves. We were sure it did but we didn't understand the devotion to their safety; Why would we? We played Rugby. And on a team with our Dads so this was beyond school boy games and rules. Aunt Jane and I were going someplace once when she spotted a sticker on the back of a car that pretty well summed things up; “Give Blood, Play Rugby”. What with one discipline and another Carter and I became the speaker in the oft repeated parody, “Yea though though I walk through the Valley of Death I will fear no man as I'm the meanest mother fucker around.” The Dads had their own chorus to that which was, “And we’re the mutherfucking fathers of those mother fuckers.”

Appropriateness of language was not stressed at home; Jane enjoyed airing out her lungs with language that would have made some question her appropriateness to teach the young. In fact, when it came to cursing, between her husband, his brother and the two hellions she taught, she acquired a vocabulary that would have made her welcome on the docks a longshoreman.

One afternoon Dad and I were going someplace, probably the auto parts store, even if he didn't need anything, he could spend hours reading and deciding between brands of wax or the best shop towels. Every thing in there was like an aphrodisiac to him, show him a display of motor oil or chrome cleaner on sale and he damn near popped a woodie. The problem wasn't getting him to go if something was really needed but getting him to leave once he was there. He'd trumped up something that he had to have and so off we went; Indians getting ready to plunder the wagon train took less time. First we'd cruise by, count the number of cars in the parking lot, then, on our next pass, go into the parking lot, right past the window to check for specials and, I guess, to see what kind of patrons were there.

He had explained to me on myriad occasions that you could tell what sort of men were inside based on their transportation outside. Something too new, too shined up meant....suburbanites. A work truck from which paint cans or lawn mowers projected said, to him, someone who was buying from stark necessity with no sense of selection. What he wanted was a truck-he came to accept certain of the larger SUVs-that clearly showed it was used for something which mean the guy who drove it worked and was a craftsman at whatever he did. You had points taken off if there was a trailer hitch but points added if there was an aluminum tool kit, locked, and pressed against the front of the truck bed. Find five or six of those in the lot and he damn near would drive through the front window: Apparently he preferred to shop in the company of other craftsmen, like himself, who could discern the quality of hex screws or gauge the actual magnetic ability of certain kinds of screwdrivers.

It was an O'Reilly's Auto Parts that day and as we sat in front while he considered things he said, “You and Carter are done with school. Yeup, Jane said you've passed all your tests, no more books she can find so you're now high school graduates.”

I was a bit taken aback. It wasn't that either Carter or I wanted to stay at home with Aunt Jane and advanced trig forever but....somehow we'd always assumed there would be notice of some kind, like a final examination would be announced. And I said so.

“Well, Jane figures you're both too smart for your own good and to put pressure on you to pass a test she knew you could pass just meant nothing. Did you know she's been using college text books for the last year?” I didn't but looking back, it was easy to realize that she had. “Do we go to college now?”

“ 'WE' do what you want to do. I know, you and Carter are almost Siamese twins but you need to do what you want to do. His Dad's telling him the same....Damn, I do believe they've got that new brand of hydraulic lube.....” and he forgot about anything educational. However, it was all that was on my mind. Carter and I had thought about college, talked about it but...never discussed it with anyone. Neither of us was certain we wanted to go but, if we did, we sure as hell weren't going to be separated just because some thought we spent too much time together.

Don't remember now when we got started but eleven? twelve?  We'd been “experimenting” with each other sexually. As every man finds, most of it feels good and we were no different. Jacking off is a right of passage that every kid goes through and so did we. Given the right set of circumstances, guys sometimes jack each other off. And so did we. I don't know who said, “I love you” first but it's of no importance, we did love each other. The internet showed us what two men could and did do to and with one another so with a little practice we got to be quite good at everything we'd seen. At least the things we'd seen that we thought might feel good and didn’t require either elaborate equipment-more than a bed or a floor plus ‘toys’. Neither of us wanted the others fist up their ass or to drink their piss but we did find that standing in the shower and taking a leak on one another had some ability to get us hard....we just didn't understand why.

CARTER AND ME PLAYING

At fifteen you have to be very precocious to be drawn to and want to try some of the more sophisticated varies of kink even though we did admire the elegance of some of the rope work on bondage sites. Too, we were limited in what we could do by where we were. There was always at least one or more adult within hearing distance and though they didn't mean to intrude, at times we wished they'd all pile in the car and go for a drive; A long one. Some of the things we wanted to try clearly made noise and took longer than most activities. I'll say this, our families were great about respecting our privacy probably because we'd never done much of anything to make them wary of what leaving us to our own devices might lead to. We were so involved with each other that we just had no time for some of the horsing around other guys did. Discipline was all around us, at Judo, at Swimming, playing Rugby..nobody said much about it but observance of rules was just part of our lives. While more experienced “players” would have found us naïve, they would also have recognized two men who were on the verge of going forward and only needed some careful instruction as well as participatory demonstrations. Maybe it was lucky that, just then, we didn't find anyone willing to advance our sexual knowledge but it was there to be worked on at some point and, an outsider would have said, that point was not too far away.

AUNT JANE

If Carter and I were going through our burgeoning romance, we failed, actually we all failed, to notice that my Dad had been seeing something of a lady when suddenly it looked serious. At least to Aunt Jane it looked serious although she couldn't sell that idea to anyone else. Until she was asked to entertain the lady so she might meet the whole family. And, frankly, Jane plotted. I think she had always felt that Dad was as married to her as she was to his brother. We all remembered the time she got conned into skinny dipping in the pool with us. Both men paid her a certain amount of non-brotherly attention and she accepted it. Just as, underwater Carter and I were playing with each others' balls, both men were fondling her breasts and she didn't seem to stop them; As on a myriad of occasions, the public could be forgiven if they couldn’t remember just who was married to whom plus which son was whose; Jane, our Dads and us as well fell into the category called one big happy family.

As I said, I really believe she felt herself married to both. And now we had this interloper, this hussy, this, this slut who, she knew, was trying to get her hooks into her man, well, her brother in law, and she was asked to prepare the meal? Oh she'd cook something up all right just not something to everyone's taste. Also, she'd been asked to try and corral us and get us in clothes that were a little ahead of our routine shorts, Ts and either flip flops or sneakers. (With the pool in the back yard we were always prepared and, as for underwear, Dad had told us about going commando-he said he and his brother always did ‘cept when they were working when they wore jocks-so there went another article of clothes not to be bothered with.) The date for this dinner was set for the following Saturday evening and, Jane was told, why not make it easy on herself? Just do a barbecue, everyone could relax, get to know one another...that way Crystal could get to know us.

Jane did not take to the name “Crystal”: We were informed that every hooker she'd ever known was called Crystal. (Carter and I wondered as to how many hookers she knew, and  thought they would be an interesting addition to her usual friends from the club, the ladies circle at Church, the two or three committees she worked with for disaster relief....We had a fairly stereotypical idea of what a hooker looked like and seeing one like that in our house didn't seem very good.) Jane was wound up and then she seized on us.....We may not have known it at the self same moment but we did know that Jane had something in mind for us and it probably wasn't shucking corn or cleaning up after the meal. And it wasn't.

It isn't so much that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned as it is hell is filled with furiously scorned women. For the next two or three days she stalked around, re-arranged furniture, looked for new things to cook and then she turned on Carter and me. It turned out that her purpose for us was to show “Crystal” that she wasn't just getting a man, but a stable of stallions and we were to be the proof. Ordered into the car, we headed out and found ourselves at a store we had never shopped. Dedicated to the ultra hip, ultra thin and ultra stylish we stood beside dressing rooms as Jane pulled clothing, had us try them on, found something else, handed it to us and on and one. In the end we each had a pair of pants so tight our cocks and balls were practically popping out the three buttons that constituted the fly. Over that we each had a gauzy shirt that was only slightly more opaque than glass and some driving shoes plus a pair of sun glasses so wide that, painted silver, you could have shown movies on them. We were told not to wear underwear and to practically anneal ourselves on Crystal and if she took, the bait, we were to feel free to take her upstairs and do whatever.....and we weren't to mention this to our fathers in advance, she wanted it to be a surprise.

CARTER AS A HOOKER, ME AS A HOOKER

It was. The night Crystal came to dine she was not what Aunt Jane had expected but then she wasn't what any of us had expected. Older than any of us, she was over dressed, over made up and obviously nervous at meeting the “clan”. God knows what she'd been told but she hadn't been warned, because she couldn't be, about the young stallions in training that were there to lead her astray, be meat on the hoof. The moment we appeared the guys looked as if they'd been shot. Clearly they knew this was a put up job and both of them stared at Jane who feigned innocence. After only a few minutes, Dad summoned both of us to follow him upstairs where he demanded to know what the fuck was going on. We didn't really want to tell him but...what choice did we have? He had us change and return when we looked more like us which is to say Levis, T shirts and sneakers. The rest of the evening was anti-climatic. Jane's dinner was delicious, the conversation was stilted and, although it didn't happen the way Jane planned, that was the end of Crystal. Late that night in bed, in each others arms we tried to think what we needed to do. Shaken by the whole evening we just lay there and finally went to sleep. Elsewhere, other events were beginning that would change everything and in relatively short time.  

Though we didn't hear it, the two dads and Jane had quite a talk, I'm avoiding the word fight because that wouldn't reflect well on any of them but that's what it almost was. Somewhere around three Dad came upstairs, woke me, told me to throw on some clothes and come with him. Just as a matter of course, Carter started to get ready as well but was told he was staying here. Not a happy moment for two guys who were so inseparable but he held back assuming this was just a temporary thing.

Dad held the steering wheel in his car so tight I thought it would break; Corners were taken as if we were in the last stretch of NASCAR and all through this I was getting a lecture about, “too fucking close”, “should have split you up”, “Jane takes too much credit”….and on and on. He finally spat out…”and you can kiss that whole fucking household goodbye as you’re never going back”. The look he gave me assumed I’d agree, the tears that shot from my eyes shocked him to the point he screeched to a halt, grabbed me and, fearful suddenly, wanted to know what was wrong? I stared him in horror….he was stunned, I was his son, surely I would...but looking at me...he knew he’d  broken the father/son bond...badly.

I was eighteen going on nineteen and, suddenly, felt like I’d been treated like a child all my life. Don’t know why but,  broke his grasp, ripped the door open and ran away into the dark. Fortunately we were about a block from a large park and that’s where I headed. I could hear him yelling, after he quit blowing the horn, but I just sat down in some bushes, pulled out my phone and called Carter; He, too was in shock-he’d had a version of my lecture-said he’d slip out and find me, stay where I was; He was getting some things of ours together.

By nine the next morning three frightened adults were looking for their sons that they weren’t going to find as we’d used our credit cards, Don’t Leave Home Without Them, and were on a plane headed for Denver-it was the destination of the first plane leaving the airport that morning.

THE DENVER AIRPORT

Neither of us realized that the Denver Airport was not really in Denver but rather out in the country, as convenient to the Nebraska Panhandle as it was to Kansas. So we sat at the airport and thought. Carter, bless him, had the forethought to pack as many clothes as he could before he slipped out, got in his car and, eventually, found me. He’d also hit every ATM, and had me do as well, once we were together so cash wasn’t an immediate concern. Beyond that, he’d left one card, one that was ours alone, so it couldn’t be stopped and, by the time our Dads and Jane found out about this robbery, nothing they could do, they’d signed us on their cards so.... It had all happened in our home town, we’d paid cash for the airline tickets... we were gone. Our credit card, due to years of perfect use, had a hefty available balance so immediately, we weren’t stuck for cash. Not to mention the several thousands we looted from our parents. They were to find out, when they hit the police station in fright and desperation, that there was nothing the cops or they could do; We were well past the age of majority, had committed no crimes and that we couldn’t be found, well, that was how it was; Heard it all the time, ‘kids’ just ran off. They were told to go home, we’d show up or call or need them….always happened that way. Of course, the officer who gave them that advice hadn’t seen the manifests for flights leaving town, couldn’t know we were now almost a thousand miles away.

It was there under  the fabric that made the roof of the Denver airport we became a couple of men not two cousins on the run. It was also there in a non-denominational, and empty, chapel that we did what we considered a form of marriage ceremony. One other thing the airport and its myriad of shops provided, rings. As Carter somewhat sadly said, we didn’t even need to change our names. Along with that, and to conform to our identification, we agreed we  were now brothers-virtually no one would not have believed us, all those years of ‘strong resemblance’ paid off. He’d had more time to think about what he needed to do before he ran so had found our passports along with things like our Social Security cards-we were so permanently together, someone just stacked all that sort of thing in a common pile, along with insurance coverage, driver’s licenses, permission to operate heavy equipment even our Premier AAA cards….Not to mention being in great shape and nice looking; Just then we didn’t think about it but although we had no experience, we were well educated and would have no difficulty finding work.  Just not in the Denver airport.

Not knowing what to do and realizing the orange juice, rolls plus coffee we’d had on the plane wasn’t quite enough food, we found one of the better looking places, better in that you walked in and were seated, not just stroll up and select from a menu. It was a little early but…..we decided on a sort of reception/party to celebrate our joining. Our waiter, some people just show up when they need to, was puzzled over two grown men, holding hands and crying.  At first we might have thought he was psychic but it turned out he was gay….and a fount of information. Without saying anything he handed us each several napkins, said it was okay to cry and since he was the only one around, why didn’t we tell him about it….

SAM, OUR WAITER AND OUR FIRST GAY FRIEND.

So we did in a sort of scatter shot way. Probably breaking every rule of the place, he sat down with us, after he put in a ‘celebratory’ order, and tried to figure things out, something we’d not bothered to do. Seems Sam was from a very strict Mormon home in Utah and news of his sexual preference was not well received; He’d been ordered out, told never to come back. We were lucky, as he pointed out, we had money, our documents, clothes….

“Hey guys, what does every new couple do? They go on a honeymoon.” We’d never thought of that and, on the moment, it was the best idea anyone had possibly because it was the only one. Now did he lack for ideas. What did every new couple need? Privacy. The following morning around eight a train called the California Zephyr would leave Denver for San Francisco. Not only could we get a room, with privacy, for two, but we’d end up in gay guys heaven. He conceded we were a bit young….but….he could tell with our looks and bodies...we could find some sort of jobs or, maybe, there was always the sex trade and for that you only had to be 19. Also, if we confined to just being photographed….easy.

Carter and I looked at each other and saw the dawn come up in full technicolor. The sex business, we’d never even thought of it. But...and we told Sam, apart from what we’d done locked in our bedroom, it was all pretty vanilla. He excused himself to pick up part of our order and, as it turned out, a magazine.

“Here, the under 21 version of a Champagne Cocktail..” Looked like an elaborate Sundae but tasted good. We’d seen this kind of magazine before but...only as consumers, never with an eye to, well, being in front of a camera or having any sort of sex beyond what we did….and said so. What they were doing on paper and what we did in reality were not much alike. At least we were all nude. Oh, and riddled through it were places you could apply for employment. Just of what sort wasn’t spelled out so, Jesus we were naive, Sam gave us a crash course on what they wanted, what we could offer and, looking at us, commented that what we had to offer would be very well received-You could always learn a new trade….

It really was a good breakfast, maybe nutrition helped us over the predicament we were in. Or so we thought. Sam again. As directly as he could, he pointed out that we’d committed no crime, sure, the people back home would worry, probably try and find us but, as he said, rather cleverly we’d got the duck out of fodge so looking locally wasn’t going to yield much. Too, they weren’t going to think about the airport or our leaving not only the town or the state. We told him about looting the ATMs which he scoffed off; Going into a police station to swear out a warrant for grand theft ATM wasn’t likely, what  concerned him was their going to the bank and cutting them off….It would interesting, to them,  as that ship had already sailed that’s when they’d find that it had sailed loaded with loot it carried thoughtfully, if hastily, removed.

Whether it was a good idea or not, in his absence, it was a slow morning but there were a few other diners, Carter and I wondered if, maybe, we should see if he’d go with us to California? We had heard about Mormons, their lack of feelings on gay men, he seemed nice enough and maybe he didn’t see his future forever being a server at the Denver Airport. Interesting a place as it was, we had every intention of getting into Denver, far away as we’d found, maybe he could go into town with us? There were enough diversions ‘under the big top’ at Denver to keep us occupied until he was free….if he wanted to go with two guys, greener than Astroturf but, we hoped, nice guys…

Sam passed shocked and moved right into thinking...it was an idea. He admitted the little bit of money he had...he lived with a guy who’d picked him up right here, in the airport. Luck again, the man was a Captain for a large airline, had a hub  in Denver so...he got the job for Sam, took him into his town house and, predictably, into his bed. Never hurt him, Sam really liked him but his constant absence made it lonely and, when his buddies from the line dropped in….Sam had to find some place to go. He knew enough to stay indoors, Denver, according to him, wasn’t all that safe, so he found a pool room, got good at pool and became a pool shark who gave  blow jobs in the can. He wasn’t proud of it but Tom, the Captain, didn’t give him much money assuming, logically, the job at the restaurant provided him with walking around money plus two meals a day. But the big plus was it was a safe place to be; The full time wait staff was provided with transportation to and from town...dropped him right at Tom’s door. In many ways, and considering what could have happened, he’d done as well as we’d done, just differently. Of course, we’d never sucked any dick, except each others, we wondered...Sam put the kibosh on that, what he did, he hated, he only started it when he was learning to hustle pool and didn’t have money from his job. Only reason he continued was that the guy who owned the place steered suckers to his table and, in return, also steered some ‘special clients’ to the can. We could see the idea of going with us held appeal. Only thing left was….where to spend that night? We could afford a motel but Sam said Tom had left that morning on a five day pattern so...stay with him. He’d fix it so we could ride the transport with him...leaving us only time to kill until three when he got off.

Not for nothing is Denver a big airport with all sorts of things to do, particularly passengers who may find themselves stuck for more than just the time it took to get from one gate to another. We gave my cell number to Sam, he gave us his, and off we went to kill time

The exchange of cell phone numbers made us think...ours had been ringing and, caller ID, we knew who was calling. As with any well equipped mall, which Denver was in many aspects, there was an electronics shop. Early, guy there glad to get customers, fixed us up with two new phone, transferred all the information from our old phones to the new ones and, as a final technical service did something that made any incoming calls receive a message that the number they had reached was no longer in service. Just out of conversation, we said we were killing a lot of time until the plane we were meeting came in. Sized us up and suggested there was an on premise gym and spa for guys, probably knock off a few hours there….who doesn’t like a good rub and he’d heard the masseurs there were really first rate. Following his instructions, we made our first call, to Sam, to give him the new numbers. He said that was clever thinking...let him know where we were after the gym then had to hustle to off load some Eggs Benedict.

He was right, there was a day spa for guys, complete with a mini gym, you could get a massage, steam bath, sauna, sit in a whirlpool….Gyms were something we knew so in we went. A days membership, use of everything, massage extra, was about a hundred bucks, another C note for two massages. To us, it was all great, new, different. They were prepared to offer gym clothes, shorts, jock, shirt...even shoes if you needed them. We fell into our routine at the gym at home, set up a time for the massages, dunked ourselves in the whirlpool, spent some time in the sauna...it was great, somehow we felt like...men, not kids with their dads but men.

The guy who gave me my massage complimented me on my body, said he could tell real work went into it. Shame I was just passing through, it was the kind of body on which he could do real work as opposed to the fat guys who were just killing time and hoped to get a blow job...Perhaps unwisely I blurted out that my partner took care of me...he was also getting a massage…

“Do you and your guy want a joint experience? For bods like yours, my partner who’s working on your man and I would”….He smiled.

Ten minutes later Carter and I were on adjoining massage tables getting worked over and blown.. “Want to go one step farther…? I bet we’d like to…..well, holding on to this rod, I can see it up my tank and maybe...you’d like a bit of Mile High fucking yourselves?”

Somewhat surprisingly, Carter rolled on his back, pulled his knees back toward his face and smiled. “Condoms only.” There was a popping noise indicating rubber was in place. My guy was holding onto to my staff, shaking his head, “Oh yeah, gotta have that, need to get young man cream in me...for a start.” As agile as a gymnast he swung up on the table, rubbered me up, never letting my buddy get soft-that wasn’t going to happen-positioned himself over me then slowly impaled himself until my bush disappeared. “Put your knees up, need a place to lean on, I’m gonna to have you in me until….you got a plane to catch?”

“Round three...” Seemed best not to mention Sam.

“Oh yeah, we got a good long time, nobody walks out of here who isn’t exhausted and walking bow legged. Guys, you were just what we needed, Young cock, fresh milk, an’ I bet you’re each good for at least three blows….however you want to do it.”

As my stiffy slid into him, seemingly welcomed, I wondered if it was too late to exchange names?

by Petr-Johan

Email: [email protected]

Copyright 2024