Date: Wed, 17 Mar 1999 05:20:06 PST From: Horatio Nimier Subject: AND THEN THERE WERE SIX This post contains explicit descriptions of sex between consenting adults. Much of it portrays homosexual actions and lifestyle. If homosexuality, sexually explicit language, or swearing offends you, or if reading material that contains these violates any law or personal or religious beliefs you must exit now without proceeding further. If you're under 18 years old you may not read it either because it is against the law. I regret this because I was once a randy teenager and I feel somewhat two-faced in helping to enforce the law. Hopefully, one day, censorship may disappear along with other vestiges of Big Brother and Mother Grundy. The story is fictional inasmuch as things did not unfold as portrayed. It is based on events that happened on two business trips that did take place. These memories have been cemented together with strips of fiction to make the story cohere. Names and places have been changed. Moreover, the early 80's were different from the present time. Unprotected sex with people whom you don't know well is, like, dangerous and stupid. The stories are dedicated to the memory of my friend, Kerry. AND THEN THERE WERE SIX ======================= The coffee tumbled down my throat, splashed around my stomach and started to force-feed caffeine into the protesting blood vessels that wanted to slumber on. Oh-dark-thirty. Even the sparrows had enough sense to stay in their nests. `Le Boeuf sur le Toit' blaring on my stereo had probably woken some of them. They would have cussed this human-brain before tucking their heads further under their wings and going back to sleep. I raised my cup to my mouth again. Did Milhaud ever see an ox on the roof I idly wondered. If so how, not to mention why, had it got there? The music gave no clue, but with its changing rhythms it was good for waking up to. I leaned against the kitchen counter while the scalding coffee boosted me into low orbit around the land of the living. The steam carried the aroma of the dark-roasted beans into my nose where it mingled with the sweetish scent of aftershave to produce the trademark of early morning male. I ran my hand over my face to check the closeness of the shave and stared at the big window across the room. In half an hour the sleeping birds would wake, pull back the curtains from the sky and the reservoir would appear magically out of the darkness. But for now the glass stayed black and I had to be satisfied with my own reflection looking back at me. I'd turn a head or two today, I thought. The harness boots covered the bottom of the black leather jeans whose shiny surface caught the light in patches. Above the silver buckle of the broad leather belt, the white muscle shirt set off the tan that bore witness to the hours of free time I'd spent on the outside of my shack. My hand wandered up my jaw, past the earring on my right ear, around to the back of my neck and ran through the rat-tail that hung down to my shoulder blades. You'll pass, buddy. I checked around the kitchen making sure that everything had been turned off. I'd be away for several weeks and I didn't want my coffee machine doing its own China syndrome. I glanced at the table. There was my tank bag, the map already folded in the transparent cover for the first part of the trip. The bag was light: my rain gear and toilet kit were all that I needed to carry for the day. Dave had swung by the night before and we'd loaded all the rest of my gear into his Jeep for the trip. The six of us would meet up again this morning at Mike and Neil's place and then drive to Charleston in convoy. The dregs from my cup hit the sink drain and disappeared as I rinsed the cup out. I shut down the stereo and pulled the power cord out of the wall socket. No need to risk stray surges. My leather jacket was heavy and stiff and it creaked gently as I pulled it on. I clipped the tank bag onto the VFR and pre-flighted the bike as I tied on the bandanna that would keep the helmet strap from chafing my newly-shaved neck. I locked the door, pushed my head into my helmet and swung my leg over the saddle. Two minutes later my headlight was parting the darkness like a scalpel revealing the startled nightlife as I set out southwards for the city. ---------------------------------------------- The September morning air had a nip in it as we checked that all our stuff was packed somewhere amongst the three cars. Six weeks of planning and prep-work was compressed into the fourteen reels of tape and four boxes of binders that sat in the trunk of Mike's `81 Stang. We had decided that he, the most anal of us all, would be responsible for transporting the vital stuff while the relatively unimportant stuff like our personal gear had been distributed between Pete's Corvette and Dave's Jeep. We were just about ready. I looked past our three motorcycles to the leather-covered backs of Mike and Pete as they argued about the best route out of town. Neil sauntered up to me. "You spoken to Pete yet, buddy ?" I grimaced, "Naah. Haven't had the right opportunity. He and I are sharing a room tonight so I guess I'll do it then." "Rather you than me." He kicked the gravel with the toe of his boot. Neil was wary of Pete. Of all of us, he was the closest to coming out and had little time for homophobes. He looked me in the eye, "Want some help ? We could do it together." "No. Appreciate the offer, but this is one ride I'm going to have to do by myself." I looked over to the `Vette where Pete was leaning against the door. Not much different to any of us at first glance. Jeans, torn at the knees, red Corvette T-shirt, biker leather jacket. Sometime today he'd find out that one of his best friends wasn't straight; that for several years he'd shared a room with a gay guy. I laughed without humor as I wondered how he'd react. "You may have to spend the night in the bar with me picking up the pieces." "Don't worry, Chris. It'll be fine." Colin walked up. "What's going on, guys ?" "Pete," said Neil. No further elaboration was needed. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that, too. It won't be easy. You up to it ?" he looked at me. "Nope. But I don't think I ever will be. I'll hit him tonight." "Hey, let's just walk over there and have a big smooch. He'll get the idea," suggested Colin. I raised my knee fast stopping it within an inch of his crotch. His male instincts had him recoiling before his brain even registered what I was doing. "OK, OK. Just a suggestion." Colin couldn't remain serious for long, but his smile faded quickly. "Just don't have your mind on Pete when you're riding. There are cages and trucks out there that'll eat you for lunch if your head ain't on your riding." "I'll be cool," I replied. It was a lie and we both knew it. I grabbed his shoulder lightly feeling the firm muscles underneath the leather. "Thanks." Mike walked across map in hand "OK, guys, this is what we're going to do." I let my mind concentrate on the route. -------------------------------------------------------- The sun had traveled about midway through the afternoon sky when I kicked my side-stand down in the forecourt of the Kentucky motel. It was good to get up and stretch. I unstrapped my helmet and stuffed my gloves inside as we walked in. As I walked through the door I remembered to push my bandanna down to my neck. Rule one for bikers: don't look threatening when you walk into a hotel. Just to be sure, we'd reconfirmed from a pay phone an hour before -- it'd be hard for them to have `lost' our reservations in that time. But it proved to be no problem. The woman behind the registration desk told us her husband and sons rode motorcycles, too, and she obviously understood bikers: we got rooms at the end of a row, well separated from the few other guests, and on the ground floor. We parked our bikes under some nearby trees where we could see them from the rooms. Mike and Neil would be sharing the first room, Colin and Dave the next and Pete and I were at the end. We got our stuff unloaded from the cars and within fifteen minutes I was diving into the pool chasing Neil. After the warm outside air the water was chilly and my skin tightened. The tiredness in my shoulders slowly melted away as I did a couple of laps of crawl. We swam for a bit then Dave went to the vending machine, fetched some Cokes and we sat at a table and dried off. When the last drops of chlorinated water had evaporated from our skin, Neil and Mike said that they were going back to their room and everyone got up and followed, agreeing to meet for dinner at seven. I envied the others. There'd be some action in two of the rooms within minutes. I pulled Dave aside. "Remember one thing, Kid. Colin's mine." He grinned at me. "Sure. I'm just the apprentice learning from the master." "Remember that or your ass is grass." I punched him gently. "Have fun. I'll join you tonight." I braced myself and started to follow Pete to our room. As I passed their door Colin flicked his towel at my back. "See ya, Chris." An unsaid good luck message. In our room Pete stripped and flopped down naked on the bed. As I took my trunks off he picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. After scanning a couple of kid cartoon shows the screen settled on a news review. I pulled on some cut-offs -- now wasn't the time to be naked. My eyes were drawn to the box. In the background some soldiers were drilling, being inspected and crawling through the dirt, while some news anchor talked about a black guy who was being busted from the army because he was gay. I watched for a while, interested in anything to do with gay rights. It seemed that this guy had repeatedly, over the years, told the enlisting board and the medics that he was gay. When they needed people to fight in Nam that was no problem. He'd gone and served with honor. Now, while it was still just Jim Dandy to kill and maim people, loving your own sex had become immoral and had no place in today's army of upstanding individuals. This was it. I had my break. "Typical military," I said, "whole bunch of muscle, not too much brain." "Why can't these guys just keep it to themselves ?" asked Pete, more to the interviewer than to me. "I'd guess it's probably something they believe in. Some crap like their right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." "Hey, they can be free and happy amongst themselves," Pete chuckled. "Just don't show it in public. Don't hold hands and kiss and crap like that." "Huh? Why shouldn't they ? We gonna start telling the Jews and the Buddhists and the Amish that they can stay with us in society as long as they cut their hair like us, dress like us, eat like us ? Yeah! Good idea: Let's all act like we're Episcopalians. That's emasculated enough to pass, ain't it?" `Hey, cool it, Chris,' I thought, `you're trigger happy -- and your voice is just a bit too high. Relax.' But Pete didn't notice "Come on! There's a big fucking difference. That's religion. With gays it's different. All they want is everyone to think their lifestyle's OK." "Oh, fuck, yes. I forgot. Two guys want to love each other, not hurt anyone else, just get on with their lives like everyone else does and it's their lifestyle that's not OK. Remind me `cause I'm a bit hazy on the subject, but the OK lifestyle is the one where people hate and lie and hurt each other. I got it now! So, yeah, let's start with the fags. Hound them down, get them out of the way first. Then whom should we pick? Yeah, we'll take out all the liberals. Shit, they're not like us -- just a fuckin' bunch of pinko-Commies so we'll hit them next. Fuck, within a couple of years we can make the whole word be just like us." "Hey! I didn't say kill them. Just keep them away from the rest of us." I dropped the sarcasm. "Listen up, Pete. These folk do nobody any harm. Why do you have to be so mean spirited? Gays work, pay taxes, sit on juries, die for their country. So then, how come they can't have their rights protected, too? Haven't we learned any-fucking-thing from history? How many people have been killed because they didn't believe the `one, true church' of that particular time? People got burned at the stake, people got tortured, people died horrible deaths. For what? For being witches! For studying science! For saying the sun didn't go round the world. For no other fucking reason than they didn't think the same as the majority. A century later we laugh about it, wonder how the authorities back then allowed it to happen. Think they were wrong. How could people act like that? "Unfortunately, though, it's too late for those poor buggers that died. "But still we don't learn, we still don't change. We just pick for another group and start the whole, sick cycle of hatred all over again. "Well, bud, it stops right here, right now." "Geez, guy, hang loose. What's it to you ? You gone gay or something ?" Pete laughed; it was not a serious probability in his mind. Show time, Chris. When I spoke I was quiet. "Not gone, Pete. I am gay. I am gay and I probably always have been. At least since I was seventeen, eighteen. So back off, OK!" Pete barely moved. His head swiveled to look at me. He looked at me long enough to see I wasn't kidding. "Oh, no!" It was shock, horror. Like I had confided that I had cancer. "Uh-huh." He leaped off the bed and grabbed his jeans. I laughed at him and lay down on my bed. "Pete, in all the time I've known you I haven't raped you, why would I start now?" I asked. "You shit! All through college you were gay ?" His voice was rising as the implications came to him. "Yup. Sure was. Does it make a difference ? You know me -- probably better than anyone else. I'm a good guy. What's it matter what my preference for sex is ?" "What difference does it make?" he shouted. "You fucking ass-hole. Are you crazy? What difference ? Listen up! People are going to hate you, man. Fuck, Chris, every guy in town is going to be scared to be with you." He stopped talking as he pulled up one leg of his jeans. His back to the wall, he kept his eyes on me. "At college, every time we were in the room together, every time we showered, you were looking at my body." He barely paused, leveling his finger at me. "That's true, isn't it. You were after my ass, weren't you ?" "Yup. Pretty much." That shook him -- he hadn't expected that answer. "Pete, you've got a good body. You look after yourself, you should be proud of it." I remembered many a night longing to lie with him; sometimes I even started to get out of bed to go to him and then chickened out. He had no clue of what emotional tearing he had caused. "Yeah, sure I looked at your body. Yeah, sure I wanted you." I sat up to try and explain. "Pete, you were closer to me than my family. Sure I wanted to share sex with you." He pulled his jeans on frantically, his shield from the devil. "Pete, think back and remember some of the things that I said to you. Sometimes late at night, sometimes when we were out by ourselves. I was coming on to you. I was testing your feelings, hoping that, somewhere inside you, there was a spark, a tiny spark, of the fire that burned inside of me. But there wasn't. You didn't want to go along and so I never did anything. I never took you anywhere you didn't want to go." "You didn't have to do anything." He was yelling. "I was always there. You could look at me, then go into the can or into your bed and whack off. I was your own, live-in porn show. You are sick, Chris. Fuckin' sick. Go to a shrink, man, get yourself sorted out. Go get hormone injections." He paused and caught his breath while his mind stumbled through the unfamiliar territory. "What d'you think Rosemary's going to think when I tell her my buddy's a fuckin' queer. You think she's going to go out with me again ? You shit! I set you up with her best friend and you pulled your fag dick out of some tramp fag's ass and went for her ? You are a fucking pervert sicko, Chris. That was it. That was my father, that was my brother, that was Texas all over again. I jumped up. In one bound I was on his bed, over it, and had him pinned against the wall by his shoulders. "I don't have to take this shit from you or anyone fuckin' else," I yelled at him. His eyes opened wide in fright. "You fucking homophobic bigot. How come it's OK for you to lust after every woman you see and not OK for me to lust after a guy ? Huh? You think it's OK, don't you? No, let's face it, you think its your right, to pester any woman you think'll be good in the sack. You believe it's your God-given duty to cajole with sweet-talk and seduction any female that fires up your hormones. And just because you've never actually forced yourself on a woman who didn't put up one hell of a fight not to get into bed with you, you can be smug and you can believe you're an honorable man. "Well tell me, honorable, fucking man, where am I any worse than you? I have just the same lust you have; just the same passions, and I never, ever, went as fuckin' far with you as I've seen you go to get a woman into bed with you. But, of course, that was a woman and so you think you're fuckin' noble and I picked a guy and so I'm fuckin' scum." I let go of him and leaned against the wall, panting, staring at him until I could speak in a voice at a more normal volume. "You're right, Pete. I did fantasize over having sex with you. Almost every night. I did look at your body, dressed and undressed, awake and asleep, and I imagined us together. But, what did I do to you that you haven't done to a girl, huh? Think, Pete, when all's said and done, what have I ever done to you that hurt you. ?" "What have you done ? Chris, think, buddy. You lived with me for four years." He held up two fingers together. "We were this close. We went out together, we hiked together, we did every-fucking-thing together. So when you come out and tell people you're gay, name one guy that is going to believe that you and I never butt-fucked. Who is going to believe that I'm not queer, too. So you see, buddy, you'd better think carefully before you say anything to Mike, Colin and the other guys, because I'm not going to let them think for one fucking second that I lived with you knowing that you were gay." He paused, fists clenched, tense. "Yeah, we were buddies and yeah there were good times and yeah you were my best friend. So I tell you what. You stay in your closet. You don't say anything to them and I won't say anything to them, but you stay the hell out of my way. We work together, that's all." It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about the others, but I decided against it. He was having trouble enough dealing with one gay guy so the words went unsaid. He studied me as he wiped a drip of saliva from his lips with the back of his hand. He continued his attack. "You ask what you've done to hurt me ? You should've told me you were a fag right back then -- when I could have backed out." He tried to reason with me as though I were too simple to see the facts. "It's fine for you. You can come out now and just live your life as you want. You obviously don't care what other guys'll think of you. But for me it'll be different. And no, it's not what people say to me that I'm worried about. I can handle that. It's what they'll say about me when I'm not there that has me scared; the reputation I'll get. Just think about it, buddy, every fucking person in that office is going to assume I went along with you." He walked over and prodded me in the chest with his fingers. "I'm going to be dragged down to your level. I'm going to be the homo leper around the office. Think of that, you total fuck up." I knocked his hand away. "Fuck what the other guys think; fuck what Rosemary thinks; fuck what the whole damn office thinks; and fuck you." I moved away running my hand through my brush-cut hair as I fought to retain control of myself. I turned back to him. "Yeah, I admit it. I deceived you. OK, I lied to you. I am sorry. Truly, Pete, I really am. But not for what I did, but for what I let you do to me. To be with you I gave up being myself. Fuck, man, it was the only way I could live. D'you think for one fucking minute that I liked living a constant lie? Watching every thing I said; laughing at jokes that were not only not funny, but hurt; scared that one day I'd get drunk and screw up and blow the whole gay thing. But what was the alternative? I liked you. Fuck, Pete, can't you understand: I loved you? And I enjoyed being with you. I wanted to spend every minute I could with you. But above anything else I wanted to be myself. If not with anybody else, Pete, at least with you I wanted to be myself." I put my hand out, but he backed away. "You don't know what I would have given up to have just one night, just one night, when I could have come home, kicked back and talked, just talked -- nothing else -- about what was on my mind. To discuss with you what it was like to be the real me. What I wanted, who I wanted to be, things that scared the shit outta me. But look what you're like now. Are you fucking surprised I lied ? It's people like you that I was afraid of." It was my turn to yell. "You really don't want me to look at you ? Is that true? Then look at yourself. Look how you dress. What's with the T-shirt that shows every vein on your muscles? What's with your jeans so tight that I can count your ass hairs? What's with the biker jacket ? You strut around like a fuckin' peacock. You're rape-bait, bud. If you don't want guys to look at you, don't dress that way. If you don't want guys to come on to you, don't dress that way." It was the stupidest logic and showed how pounded my mind was. I would have parried such an argument with ease if anyone had used it on me, but I had gone way past my limit of tolerance and good sense. I could feel the tears of anger pricking at the back of my eyes. Love and hate are separated by the thinnest of lines and I was teetering on it. I moved up on him again and he raised his hands to ward me off. "And don't you ever, fuckin' ever, again refer to a guy that I have sex with as a tramp. I may be different to you, but that's it. Different. Not better; not worse; different. And for fuckin' sure, I don't pick up trash just to get my rocks off." I started to walk away, then turned back. "No. Actually, Pete, I really am better than you. Because I don't fuckin' judge you or any of your fucking homophobe jock friends by some stupid, bigoted, narrow minded perception of what the world should be like. So go fuck yourself, buddy." He didn't say anything. He pulled his sneakers on leaving the laces untied, tried to get his T-shirt over his head, got entangled, pulled at it and it ripped. He threw the shirt on the floor, grabbed his jacket and keys and strode to the door. He turned "I'm going to get another room. There is no way I am spending another night with you." He pulled the door open and stormed out leaving its springs to slam it closed. The Vette's engine roared to life and I heard the gravel spray as he took off. I put my head against the wall and leaned on it. I felt drained. There was a huge void in my gut. I fought back the tears. There was a knock at the door. I opened it. It was Colin, his face serious for a change. "You OK, Chris?" I nodded. I didn't trust my control over my voice to say anything. He put his hand out and wiped a tear off my cheek. His arms went around me and we hugged close. Still holding me he said, "It was a bad scene, man. We heard some of it. You guys were going round and round." He let go and looked at me, I shook my head in despair. "Well.... I guess we know where we stand now." He looked around the parking lot. "You wanna come to our room for a while ?" "No. Thanks. I need to be alone for a while. I'll see you guys at dinner." "Whatever you say, man. We're there for you if you need anything." He gave me another hug then turned and started to walk away. He stopped and looked back. "You're not gonna go and do something dumb now, are you ?" I smiled weakly. "No. Later tonight I might work at getting alcohol poisoning. But right now I'm OK" "OK. See ya, then. I'm here for you if you need me." I closed the door, grabbed a beer out the fridge and collapsed back on the bed. The show on the box had changed, but I just lay there staring unseeingly at the screen until it, too, annoyed me and I turned it off. All that I could think of was the friendship I had trashed. And that hurt like hell. Pete was right: I was a fuck-up. More than an hour later I still hadn't finished the beer, I was still staring at the gray TV screen and I still felt like shit. I was lying on the bed hating Pete and despising myself when I heard the Vette pull up outside. There was a long quiet while nothing happened. The only sound was the vibration of the fridge. I lay still. I heard the car door open, a long pause and then close quietly. My stomach knotted in fear. The lock clicked open under command of the card-key. Pete came in. He stood just inside the door, catching it with his foot to stop it slamming. "Hey," he said tentatively, holding my stare. "Hey, Pete." I stayed on the bed. "You OK?" he asked. "Yeah." He came further into the room. "Chris, I'm sorry," he said looking at me warily. "I didn't mean what I said." "Pete." I interrupted. "It's OK. You did mean it, but it really is OK. I'm like I am; you're like you are. It doesn't matter." He didn't have to try to make logic of homophobia. "No. It does matter." He came in a bit and stood, hands pressed against his thighs. "Chris, I was way out of line. Those things I said....." he looked at the floor and shook his head. "I was wrong. Man, was I wrong. I'm so sorry." A pause. "It was just….when you told me, you like caught me off guard. I'd just…..I'd never had to think that stuff through before. I panicked and just knee-jerked." He stopped and looked at me, trying to gauge my reaction. "Chris, please, give me a chance. I can handle this. I was a prick back then. It won't happen again and it won't stand between us." He kicked at the carpet. "Please, Chris. I'm real sorry, man." I rolled off the bed and stood up. "Don't sweat it, Pete. This is all a whole fucking mess. I guess I should've leveled with you a long time ago. I fucked up some, too. There just never was a right time to tell you." I stood up and looked at my beer can. "This beer's gone warm, can I get you a cold one ?" "Yeah, I need one bad." I walked across to the fridge surreptitiously wiping my eyes on the top of my arms. I felt his hand on my shoulder. I turned and he was standing there holding out his hand to me. We shook awkwardly, formally. I handed him a cold beer and took one myself. Pete didn't open his right away. "I'm serious, Chris. You're my friend. Whatever you are or do is fine. I honestly don't mind. It's cool with me." I bit my lip. "Thanks, Pete. That means a bunch to me." I smiled at the irony of things. If we'd had a fight like this yesterday we would have hugged now. Ain't nothing wrong with two straight guys hugging. But when only one is straight..... I sat down in the chair and he sank onto the sofa opposite me. He pulled the tab on his beer and held the can up to me. I raised my can to him in return. "To friendship." We sat in silence for some minutes savoring the cool liquid and the moment. Time was precious. We had almost crashed and burned, but somehow we'd pulled up at treetop height and maybe now we had a chance. There was nothing to say. We needed time to regain some altitude and stay flying. My can was half-empty before Pete spoke again. "Chris ?" "Uh-huh." "Does Aunt Gillian know ?" So, she was still as important to him as she was to me. "Yeah." I took two or three gulps of beer, thinking. "Remember the night you got smashed on strawberry wine. After we cleaned you up and the room and all, we were sitting in the kitchen having some coffee. We were watching you in case you choked. She had been noticing how I looked at guys -- and, I guess, at you -- and she asked me. I told her. Tried to explain how I felt. You know, she was probably the first person that did understand. It made no difference to her." Another long pause and contemplative drinking. "She never gave me the slightest hint," Pete eventually said in quiet amazement. He stood up and strode to the kitchen crushing his can into a small disc. He opened the fridge, pulled out another two cans and tossed one to me. We drank in silence for another few minutes while our brains reprocessed emotions into data and sorted them into new feelings. "So, if you're gay, what was the scene with Carol ?" That was a fair question. I sometimes pondered it myself. "Just normal. I never told her. We had a good relationship, we had sex -- you know that. I enjoyed it, we were kinda close and it wasn't forced. I tend to like guys more, but I like some girls, too. I guess, really, if I think of it, I'm a bit bisexual. I just feel more natural with guys most of the time." No word was spoken until my can was almost drained. Everyday noises from outside, traffic, the guy mowing the lawn, all seemed to come from another world. Our room was isolated, free, floating in time. It was good to be together. I really loved Colin, Pete couldn't replace him. But Pete was a part of who I was. Pete took a long swig of beer. "What do you do ?" he asked, looking at me from the corners of his eyes. "When ?" He blushed and looked away. "When you…when you have sex. With another guy. I mean…..You fuck ass don't you ?" "Sometimes, yeah. It's pretty much the same as with a woman other than that. There's kissing, there's fondling, there's hand stuff and there's mouth and tongue stuff. Sometimes we do all of that, sometimes it's just a kiss. Sometimes just a jack-off." I emptied the can and stood up to get another. I paused as I passed him and grinned. "Must say, though, I've never had a guy tell me he had a headache and couldn't do it." Pete gave me a wan smile over his beer can. He looked at me. "Do you have a....a....a lover ?" "No." It was a lie. Now was not the time to drag Colin into the picture. There was a longer silence. He drained his beer, got up and came across to where I stood at the fridge tearing open a new six-pack. I handed him a cold beer. "So if you're gay," he paused, "and you and Carol could be together……" he studied his can intently as though opening it was some great challenge. "….it could be that a guy who was mainly straight could only sometimes go with a guy friend ?" "That's pretty much how I see it. Ain't no hard lines in nature. Everything blurs into a kind of continuum." The silence dragged on while Pete balanced his emotions and beliefs. "I used to jack off with a couple of buddies when I was in high school," he said, more as a soliloquy than to me. "Nothing too daring. At first it was just doing it together to see who could come first, but later we started to do it to each other. That was a whole lot more fun," he chuckled quietly. He looked at me. "I've even sixty-nined." "That's the way most of us start," I agreed. "I wouldn't mind us jacking off together." He looked at me hesitatingly. I, too, trod gently as I negotiated the unfamiliar turf. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to, Pete." "No, really. I'd like that." He put his empty beer can down and leaned back on the sofa with his hands behind his head. "It was fun. Maybe I can capture some of that fun again." He smiled at me. "Maybe you can even show me some new tricks." "I probably could." It was my turn to feel rushed. This was where I'd intended to get, but the route here had confused me and now I was uncertain how to go on. "Anytime you like, buddy." "How `bout now?" I stood up and undid the button on my cut-offs. They fell to the floor and I stepped out of them towards my friend who was kicking off his sneakers. He stood up and started to undo his jeans. I really wanted to put my hands under his jacket and feel his skin, but that might be too much like touching, too gay for him. For today. He started to take his jacket off. "Leave it on, Pete," I said, "you look good in leather." As his jeans slid down I saw the same cock that I had seen almost every morning as I woke up at college. I stepped forward and took the six inches of flaccid meat into my hands for the first time. He tensed up momentarily at my touch, then he forced himself to relax. His cock was thick and warm. I took it gently in my hands almost reverently. I had traveled across numerous, uncharted seas to get to this island and, stepping ashore, found that the tales were true: gold and precious stones lay on the sand waiting to be picked up. I let my fingers run across the white skin, the veins beneath it already distending as his muscles clamped the return path closed. As it stiffened, extending another inch in length, the circumcised glans lost its pinkness turning to a dark purple. I closed my fingers gently around it and pulled on it. He put his hand down and took my dick gingerly in his right hand. He grasped it hesitatingly, waiting for the lightning bolt to strike him dead. I gently began to massage his cock as it rapidly swelled and grew in my hand. Mine was slower to come up -- my emotions had taken a beating, but as his hand grasped my shaft firmly I gave way to the sexuality and leaned my head on his leather-covered shoulder. It had been a long journey to this point. Pete had had less practice at this art than I. He was a bit mechanical at first, but as the hormones started to circulate he began to give in to their pleading and I felt him starting to thrust into my palm. I cupped his scrotum in my left hand and began to gently squeeze the balls. He liked that and began to do the same to me. He was horny now, so I took my left hand out of his crotch and slid it up his stomach under the black leather to his left nipple. I pinched it gently and then harder. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep. His hand was pulling on me hard. I didn't want him coming so soon. This wasn't a T-room quickie. This had to be an event he remembered all his life, an event that he would want, would need, to repeat. "Lie on the bed, Pete." I told him gently. He lay down on his back without questioning, his cock pointing upward and jerking slightly in time with his pulse. I straddled his legs and lowered myself on top of him holding my body on my arms as I began to rub my penis up and down his. He put his arms around my back and pulled me to him. The leather of his jacket was cool on my skin. He started to get excited, thrusting into me, his privates intimate with mine. Still it was too early. I knelt next to him and held his shaft. I licked the drop of precum from his slit and then began to flick the swollen tip with my tongue. "You like a blow job, Pete ?" "Yeah!" he said immediately, then added, "If that's OK with you." "Then ask me for it, Pete. How much do you want it." I held his cock hard, teasing him. I wanted to get him used to this game. "Fuck, Chris, suck my cock. Suck it, man." I took his glans into my mouth. No tensing now, he was too randy. I kept just the tip in my mouth and used the mid part of my tongue to rub the underneath of the swollen tip -- the point where glans and shaft both meet. His ass was soon jerking but, as long as I concentrated on the tip and didn't go to the back of the glans, he would probably not come. He was gripping my hair, pushing me down. I started to take in more of his shaft. Little by little until the end was in my throat. My tongue was everywhere, helping to massage on the down-stroke and rubbing the tip as I came up. He started to moan and gasp. "Chris man, this is great. Where'dja learn to do this?" I got up. "It's innate to us gays," I said, giving the glans a final lick. I looked into his eyes. "But if you want I'll teach you." He smiled and moved his hand down to his cock to jack himself. "Leave it alone," I said. "There's more to come." I stood up and got my tube of KY from my case. "Whatcha going to do ?" "Turn over and kneel, Pete." "You gonna fuck me?" he said dubiously. "You wanted to learn new tricks, didn't you ?" "Yeah, but I meant like the sucking." "You've had head before -- that wasn't new." I lay down next to him, my eyes looking into his. My fingers rubbed his cock. "From an adult guy it was," he grinned. I leaned forward and put my lips to his. His eyes went wide open and he tried to jerk back, but there was nowhere to go. My tongue went between his lips as I massaged his balls. I felt his teeth open and his tongue touched mine and then the passion hit him and his hand was on the back of my neck pulling me towards him. We kissed for a long minute, exploring each other's tongues as I thrust mine deep into his mouth. Slowly I pulled back and looked at him. "Fuck, you don't miss anything, do you ?" he smiled. His hand found my cock and started to masturbate it. "Man, I'm need to come. I'm going to burst my balls. Get me off, Chris." "You're a sexual retard, Pete. Kneel. This is going to be the best session you have ever had" He hesitated. "Trust me, Pete. It'll be OK." He rolled over slowly and knelt on the bed adjusting his weight on his arms. I started to knead his ass crack with my closed fist, forcing it open. Then, ever so gently, I started to lube around the edge of his hole. As I probed he clamped his muscles tight. "Relax your ass, Pete," I instructed, "you get just as stimulated from the inside as you do from the outside. You've never been more than half-aroused before. Now you'll get it all" The muscles loosened and my middle finger slid in and began to probe. As I moved in and out I gently mounded his balls with my other hand, careful not to touch the throbbing penis. No coming yet. I got my second finger into him, too. His ass was tight and I needed to open it up a tad. He started to move his butt back and forth, pushing on my fingers to get them deeper inside him. I took hold of his cock and slowly started to jack, distracting him as I pulled my fingers out. I squeezed a long line of KY around my dick. Still jacking him slowly to keep his mind on the sex I moved up to his ass and my cock moved between his cheeks. He clamped down. "Relax, Pete." The muscles softened. I pushed a bit harder and the tip went in. "Aaaagh," he yelled and arched his back down. I stopped pushing and let him regain his breath. "The first fuck is a bit sore, Pete, I know. But it gets better, I swear. Relax your muscles and it won't hurt so much." He grunted deeply. Ever so slowly I eased the whole shaft in until it had fully penetrated and I just held there. "You OK, Pete? How does it feel?" "Bit sore..........But, fuck, I've never felt as horny as this.......I'm going to.......explode." "Naah. Don't do that." I started to withdraw gently and slowly until only my tip was in. "Want me to take it out ?" "No, don't stop." "Just a bit more, then I'll let you come." He was leaning on his crossed forearms. I ran my left hand over the back of his jacket and squeezed his shoulder. "Feel the leather, Pete. See how good it feels while you're being fucked ?" "Yeah........I know.....why d'you think I wear it?.....Chris, don't stop.......I'm exploding, man." "See..... you're a leather-boy. Half gay and didn't even know it." I felt his tremors. "You want to come now?" I was within seconds myself. "Yes......Just fuck me, Chris.......Fuck me till I come." I put my hand round him and started to pump his cock. My balls started to squeeze. "OK. Pete......hang in there..... I'm gonna shoot." An extra deep thrust and I shot my sperm into him. I was still spurting when his butt started to kick and he shot all over the bed. I lay on his back, my cock still inside him as I milked him, slowly squeezing the last drop out of his throbbing rod. Each time I squeezed his body spasmed. When both of us were finally drained and still I slowly withdrew and he rolled onto his side. I lay down in front of him. There was cum all over the bed between us and on one of his sleeves. I really wanted to lick it all up, but I thought it might revolt him. I picked up my muscle shirt and wiped his sleeve then cleaned the bed. I threw the shirt over the back of a chair. "Ain't going to wash this shirt for a while," I said. "It'll remind me of today." I looked at him lying on the bed. He was breathing heavily, looking straight up at the ceiling. He didn't look at me. I walked over to the fridge and got two more beers. I held one out to him and he took it, meeting my eyes briefly then immediately flicking away. I pulled the tab on my beer and sat down next to him. "You OK, buddy ?" I asked. "Yeah. I'm fine," he replied sitting up to drink, but not looking at me. We drank in silence for about five minutes. I broke the silence. "Pete, don't feel embarrassed. It's OK." "Why the fuck would I feel embarrassed." Oh, man, this was going downhill. Fast. "Pete! Listen up, fuck it. I care for you, man. Share with me. This is one time I can't relate to what is going through your mind. But to cross a lifelong taboo has got to bring on a whole bunch of second-guessing. Tell me what you're thinking, let me in to your world. I don't want you to hurt." "Chris, I'm OK. It's just a bit confused right now. All of a sudden I don't know who I am or what I believe. You can't understand that, your life is so totally......" I believe he was going to say `fucked up', but he caught himself and said "....laid out. You know who you are. You can't understand." "Pete, I think I do understand. You just got a look at yourself from a new angle and it's different to how you believed you were. It's like the first time you heard your own voice on a tape recorder. You thought `No way, that ain't me. I know what I sound like. The machine can't be recording right.' But then you realized that everyone else's voice sounded the same on the tape as in real life, and you had to accept that the comfortable deep voice you heard coming out your throat was not the same one everybody else did." "Chris, I'm straight," he said, more to convince himself than me. "But I really enjoyed doing that. When you were inside me I really felt different to any time ever before. Really good. Damn, Chris, when you kissed me I really wanted your body, man." "Guy has man-sex and lives -- details at eleven," I teased gently. He smiled at me. I ran my hand over his nipple. "So, what happened to the homophobia ?" "I'm working on it," he answered straight-faced. I said nothing. There was silence for about a minute and I could feel he wanted to tell me something. Eventually he started, looking straight ahead and not at me. "When I lost my cool this afternoon I really was planning to move out. But when I got to the office there were some other people at the desk so I got into the car and just drove. I ended up in the town and there was this fast-food place so I went in to get a cup of coffee. I needed to think." He stopped. "No, I wanted to plan revenge. Right then I really hated you, Chris. I wanted to hurt you bad. I felt you'd ripped our friendship apart. I sat there thinking `Why didn't he tell me before ?' Yeah," he said interrupting me before I got the protest out, "I know why you couldn't. I thought that one out pretty quick. Knowing that didn't make anything easier, it just made me hate myself as much as you. "I started doing what you said. I started to think back. I found a couple of times you hit on me. Shit I was dumb not to see it. I've forgotten a lot, but other things I did remember. Pieces started to fit together. Pieces I didn't even know were in the puzzle." He sat up on one elbow and looked at me. "That kid that you tutored math to. He used to pay you and you used to have some spare cash to spend. Then everyone found out he was gay and those engineering guys trashed his books. I used to wonder then why you were always broke. You didn't make him pay for your time after that, did you?" I shrugged. It had seemed the smallest of sacrifices to me and it helped Tim. "Tim had to get new books. He would've flunked without the tutoring. How could I take his money?" I hadn't even had sex with him -- just let him cry on my shoulder. "Yeah, I guessed that today. I started to figure out a whole lot of other things this afternoon, too, about myself." He lay back down. "I told you I wanted to hurt you. I began thinking about what I would say to other folk, like in the office, you know. I was really getting high on outing you. I played it all out in my mind. Fuck, man, I was sore. I saw how people would start to ostracize you and make fun of you behind your back. And suddenly I realized what life would be like for you. Even then, when I saw what I was doing, I tried to justify my own attitudes. It just didn't work. Before, gays had just been `they', but now it was you. That made a difference. It took me a while, but slowly I began to see how unfair things must seem to you. "I was so fucking confused. I got some more coffee and tried to come to terms with who I was, who you were. I sat there maybe half an hour mulling everything over and then these two bikers walk in. They had on those leather suits like you and Neil wear, ear rings, real trim haircuts. I saw them touch hands. Right off I thought `Fucking faggots.'" I tensed as the blade struck home. Pete glanced at me "Just hang with me, Chris. I thought `These guys would probably turn Chris on,' and I looked at them and looked at them to try and see what it was that you saw when you looked at a guy. I looked at their bodies, their clothes, their movements. And every time I picked on something I thought was gay, I thought `Hell, that isn't worth hating a guy for.' I tried to imagine them in bed together, and that didn't seem like a federal offense, either. It didn't even seem bad when I though of you in bed with them. Shit, I suddenly realized I was thinking of them in bed with me and I freaked. I'd got a boner. I thought I'd caught gayness from you." I couldn't help it. I knew he had weathered a personal crisis, but his idea of catching gayness was so genuine and so funny that I burst out laughing. Pete looked at me and then, he too, saw the humor and laughed, too. He took a large mouthful of beer. "I must have been staring at them while I was going through all this `cause, when they'd got their food, they came and asked if they could share my table. I don't think I said anything, I was stunned, I just pointed to the empty seats like a fucking imbecile. They looked at my jacket and asked me if I rode. I said no, and pointed out my Vette. So we talked about Vettes and bikes for a while. I got into the conversation and was cool again. I'd forgotten that I wasn't wearing a shirt under my jacket and I noticed the guys look at me a couple of times, then one of them remarked on my build and asked me if I worked out. Fuck, I knew what they were asking. I do that to chicks. I felt so fucking scared. I was going to yell at them that I was no fucking fag. But I looked at them and remembered what you'd said about how I treated chicks. These were just two normal guys being pleasant, so I backed down and just told them about the gym. Somehow, not reacting made me feel good -- like I'd passed a test. But still I didn't know what to say to them. Like you can't just say to a guy `Hey, I think you're gay and that's really cool with me.'" I laughed at the idea. Actually it would be nice to hear that now and then. Pete went on. "They were real nice guys and I felt real comfortable sitting there with them. I wanted to be there with them. And then it came to me: I was getting a peek into Chris's world. Eventually we finished eating and got up to go. They came and looked at the Vette and chatted about it. When they got on their bike I noticed the guy in back press up to his buddy. It looked good and they were just so comfortable with each other. I started to get a hard-on again. I don't think that has ever happened before. The whole drive home I felt so mixed up. I'd see a girl and think `Yeah, I'd like to fuck you' and then I'd see a guy and notice if he was good looking. "And then I was back here and I was scared that you might have gone. When I drove up and saw your bike was still here I was relieved, but then I started to worry that you'd tell me to get lost." "No way, Pete. That won't happen. I rested my hand on his thigh. "Question is, will you respect me in the morning ?" He paused. He thought for a while and when he replied to my joking question he was serious. "Yeah. I'll do that." "That's cool." I looked at him. He held my gaze. "Tell me honestly, Pete. How was the sex?" "Oh, man. That was in-fucking-credible," he smiled at me. "Chris, you _are_ good. No girl has ever done that half as well. Not quarter as well. My cock felt like a lightning rod getting struck when I came." "Do you think you'd like to try it again, sometime ?" He looked at me with a mischievous smile. "Damn sure," he said. "Only one change -- next time you're the one who's going to get fucked! I'm going to walk like a cowboy tonight." He swung his legs off the bed. "Hey, it's just about time to meet the other guys for dinner, isn't it ?" "Yeah. Better clean your ass if you don't want a wet patch in your jeans." He went into the bathroom. When he came back into the room he called "Geez, Chris, how much did you shoot into me ?" I laughed, "A lot. I had a bunch of years to make up for." "Well, it's going to be _my_ make up time after dinner," he said as he pushed his cock into his jeans. I jumped of the bed and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. As we stood next to each other combing our hair, Pete caught my eye in the mirror. With a mischievous smile he asked, "I've been meaning to ask you. When we were fighting this afternoon you said that you'd fantasized about us having sex almost every night. Almost? Who were you fantasizing about the other nights?" I laughed. "I'm not going to tell you that. I like having you just a bit jealous." He laughed, reached out and grabbed my balls gently. "Ve haff vays off making you talk!" he said in a mock accent. The knock on the door interrupted us. Pete opened it and Mike called in "It's quarter of seven. You guys ready ?" If he was curious about the aftermath of the fight his face betrayed nothing. "We're ready," Pete answered and we walked out pulling our jackets on against the cool night air. The other guys were assembled outside. Everyone's eyes were on me, but I pretended not to notice. The six of us walked across the parking lot to the restaurant next door. The waiter put us at a secluded table. "Guess when you get six guys all wearing leather jackets they don't know what you're going to do," joked Mike. "It's that Stang logo you've got on yours," Neil remarked. Mike had had the galloping Mustang logo of his car airbrushed onto the back of his motorcycle jacket. "It's because of that that we got in at all," retorted Mike. "It adds class. Otherwise they'd think it was another biker gang." We sat down. After studying the menu we ordered and, as we sipped our drinks and waited for our food, Neil asked me innocently "What did you guys get to do this afternoon ?" I broke a roll and began to butter it. Equally as matter of factly I responded "Pete and I had sex. He ain't a virgin no more." Pete just hung his head. I believe he thought he had landed in a madhouse. Colin put on his deep Southern drawl. "Am I to under-stand from what yew just said that yew two are some of them ho-mo-sexyewal people like they have out they-re in Cal-iforn-i-a ?" My laugh died in my throat as Pete leaned half across the table and fixed Colin with his eyes. "What Chris and I do by ourselves is no fucking business of yours. So butt out now and stay out." His eye scanned the table inviting a challenge. "And that goes for the rest of you, too." I saw the gleam in Colin's eye. I felt sorry for Pete, he had come to my defense and now he was going to get the two-by-four to the side of the head . "I don't think I can butt out, Pete. You see, buddy, we are a team and..." he held up his hand as Pete started to say something. "And it seems to me unfair that you want to keep this guy here all to yourself. We enjoy his sex just as much as you do." Pete looked from Colin to me and then at the other three faces that grinned at his bewilderment. I broke it to him. "Welcome to the club, Pete. I hate to tell you this, buddy, but this has all been orchestrated and you came in right on cue." Nobody said anything. A slow smile of comprehension spread across his face. He scanned the five of us. "Well, I'll be fucked!" he said. "That's part of the plan, too," chipped in Neil and we all broke into peals of laughter. Pete joined in, shaking his head. "You guys.....you're all gay ?" "Yup." "How long have you been planning this ?" He looked around and then added "And how'd you know I'd come around ?" "We didn't, but we had no other choice. Of all the guys that we could have chosen, though, you were the best chance," Colin explained. "We really didn't know how you'd react. Neil and I were really doubtful and, if you didn't go along with us, it would screw the whole plan of having the house. Mike was the only one that thought you would go along with us." Pete glanced up at Mike. "I've always thought of you as someone who would be more interested in sex for sex sake rather than having it one way or another," Mike stated. Pete reflected on that. "Yeah. That probably is my style. I just didn't realize it until today." "Of course, Chris was the pivot on which everything hinged," Colin went on. "He knew you best and he knew he had to be the one to talk to you about it." He put his arm around me. "I'm just sorry that it led to some stormy times this afternoon between you two. That was never part of the plan." "I probably went overboard," Pete admitted ruefully. "I was tired after the drive and then Chris dropped this bombshell on me. Definitely not one of my proudest moments." He looked intently at his cutlery, then smiled and looked at me. "But making up was worth it." At the end of the table Dave tapped his fork on the glass to get our attention. He stood up "OK you guys, now we're a team. I must admit I was one who didn't believe it'd work today. But it has, and we're together now. This trip is going to be the greatest time in our lives. We are going to kick some serious ass." He suddenly realized what he was doing and that people in the restaurant were looking at him. He flushed and sat down. I stood and raised my glass. "What the Kid said." Everyone scrambled to their feet, oblivious of the other diners. "What the Kid said". We touched glasses and drank. Copyright 1999 Horatio. I relate these stories because I enjoy writing and I enjoy the subject matter. If you have any comments you can email me at horatio_nimier@hotmail.com I'll even accept criticism if expressed in an adult, objective and polite manner. Hate mail will be flushed without reading. Grow up.