Acts of the Apostles

For the outward appearance of exemplary Christian conduct -- I mean, let's face it: Jamie and I had everyone fooled -- as well for our college acceptances, we were granted an extra overnight off campus, and my mother reluctantly agreed to let us encamp in Southampton. On a whim, and with Jamie's approval, I also called Brett fully expecting him to decline my invitation to join us, but he readily accepted! (Had he broken up with Talia?)

Encumbered only by toothbrushes, Jamie and I caught the early train down to his hometown, where his older sister met us at the station in overcast drizzle. We took her home, endured a bunch of questions from Jamie's parents then drove the robin's-egg Corvair farther south to pick up Brett. Like an eloping bride I snuggled against Jamie the whole way, my left hand playing with his long flaxen hair, my right wedged warmly between his thighs as we sang along with the radio.

Pulling into Brett's driveway I beeped Jamie's horn. Brett emerged from the front door in faded jeans, his shaggy dark brown hair flopping over the collar of his worn flannel shirt as he jogged toward us. Under his breath Jamie said, "no way."

"What?" I asked.

He answered in a trance: "I like what I see."

Before I could object, Brett pulled open the car door. "Hey guys," he said, climbing in close beside me, stunning me with his hooded bronze eyes before reaching across to shake hands with Jamie. I was momentarily distracted by a whiff of musk.

"You two have heard about each other," I managed to say.

Following my directions Jamie drove us through light rain over the Whitestone out along the Expressway, the whole island covered by the Atlantic's mild misty blanket of saturated salty air. Like an electrical conduit between opposing poles, I discreetly and daringly slipped my left hand inside Jamie's thigh and my right inside Brett's, hoping they would feel the connection and like each other or at least get along for twenty-four hours.

Collectively aroused, we stopped mid-afternoon for a late lunch at the old landmark diner, a large chrome whale with wide, flat, upraised fluke, and a long row of portholes below tubular purple-neon lights: Moby Dick's.

"So, how's Talia?" I asked Brett, again sitting between my friends at the counter, facing a hungry grill in the off-season restaurant haunted by a few locals.

"Fuck her," he whispered.

"No thanks," I said. "She's all yours."

"Not any more she's not," he said.

"Good," I said hopefully, turning to Jamie, who was scanning and flipping metallic pages in the glass-enclosed counter-top juke box.

"Brett's available," I whispered.

Jamie's blue-green eyes questioned me: was I offering -- or withdrawing -- something precious?

"So, you two fool around after lights out," Brett said across me to Jamie. (Had my roommate detected my original boyfriend's jealous accusation?)

Jamie only smiled shyly. "Yeah," he admitted, looking down; "I haven't had a good night's sleep in months."

I laughed loudly enough to compensate for Brett's possessive silence. Still smiling, Jamie dropped a quarter into the slot of the juke box then pushed some buttons for a bevy of pop songs.

Full of burgers, French fries, milkshakes and mints, we continued down buckled blacktop through dwarf pine toward the bay. A sandy dirt road past budding scrub oak and dormant honeysuckle delivered us to the crescent of three vacant, brown-shingled old cottages that semi-circled a small beach and simple dock.

(I could almost see myself, a tanned, skinny young boy with sun-bleached platinum crew cut running full-speed to the end of the dock plunging into the water like a cannonball.)

Jamie parked privately between cottage and woods. We all got out stretching limbs in the rain. I opened the screen door to the porch and lifted the house key off a nail.

The living room my friends followed me into was dank and dark, husks of dead insects scattered around on wood floor and oval rug; half-burnt logs in the fireplace spotted by bird droppings; stale, musty air tinged by mothballs from upstairs bedrooms. Old pine furniture and shelves of paperbacks nobody ever read all seemed frozen in place and time; the cottage hadn't been used or even unlocked since my father had given up the ghost.

"Cool," Jamie said.

"Very cool," Brett corrected him.

"Look around," I suggested; "I'll build a fire." But we didn't have much time together. Aching with prolonged arousal, I impulsively broke the ice in one fell swoop. "There's only one rule here," I announced: "inside, you can't wear pants."

"We'll freeze!" Jamie blurted, strolling into the kitchen.

"What about outside?" Brett asked. We all laughed nervously. Taking the initiative, I kicked off my loafers, unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned, unzipped, pushed down and stepped out of my navy shorts then my underwear. (Brett had never seen my bare buttocks.) Self-consciously primed I approached the fireplace as he tentatively climbed the open stairs behind me.

When Jamie returned to the living room where I was kneeling to wad newspaper (and to hide my erection), he was wearing only his olive sweatshirt and was, as usual, provocatively engorged. Mindful of the intruder upstairs, I stood casually to hug my roommate for mutual reassurance, two hard touchy muscles mingling coincidentally.

The top stair creaked. Barefoot, naked from the waist down, Brett slowly descended into view sporting a tensely bobbing erection.

"Oh my," Jamie said.

"Oh yes," I thought.

Smiling shamelessly, his flannel shirt unbuttoned to show off a meager little patch of dark hair at the sternum, Brett walked his nodding erection right up to us, joining our welcoming embrace, all three of us eagerly looking down at an impromptu convocation of upstanding cocks.

I thought I might faint, completely overcome with joy, excitement, validation and urgent sexual energy raw as the weather. The fire would have to wait as I struggled to breathe, and to process all that was happening.

"I'll see what's to drink," I said breathlessly, backing away.

Brett and Jamie paired off, placing hands on each other like self-conscious kids learning to dance, their own erections now mingling coincidentally. To my relief, my friends murmured indistinctly as I left the room.

In the kitchen, fully erect, I had to lean against the counter for a few seconds, simply gazing out in disbelief over asphalt-gray water anticipating the myriad orgasmic outcomes and ejaculatory upshots we were about to share.

It would be, after all, my first threesome, with the two boys I loved boundlessly, only I didn't know exactly how to proceed. Regaining my composure, I filled the kettle, gathering mugs, spoons and instant coffee to warm us up even further.

Smiling sheepishly, Jamie entered from the dining room, pulled out a chair and sat facing me beside the kitchen table, ostensibly unaware of his imperious hard-on standing straight up, a Shinnecock totem pole adorned at the tip with a single clear bead.

Winking at him I returned to my task.

Across the bay, barely audible sea gulls were crying with abandon when Brett crept up from behind, wrapping his strong arms around me for the very first time. I inhaled deeply, whispering, "oh, Brett," as my gay heart swelled way beyond normal. He prodded my bare buttocks, his open mouth nuzzling the side of my neck. A cold right hand slid up inside my pullover to rub my undulating belly while the left discovered, explored and claimed my waiting erection for the very first time.

Helpless, breathless, I dropped my spoon into one of the ceramic mugs with a tinkle. Smiling at us, Jamie absently fondled Big Cock as he watched Brett and me writhe.

The kettle began whistling. Brett's left hand steadily jerked my shaft as he bumped intrusively against my butt. Huffing, I turned off the gas, concentrating with unsteady hands to fill and stir all three mugs, dropping the spoon, replacing the kettle as the index finger and thumb of Brett's right hand located and pinched my nipples.

Overheated by the friction our greedy bodies were generating, I yanked my pullover up and off. Then Jamie stood, pulled off his sweatshirt and with waggling erection stepped to fetch his coffee, but first steadied his cock to slide its oily cap against my own, which Brett squeezed and pointed, blending pre-ejaculates.

When Jamie backed away one step, the clear thread between our penises broke, clinging like a spider web to my inner thigh. Grinning, Jamie looked up at me, but I could only grimace, already at the precipice of an orgasm. Brett resumed breathing into my ear as the expert piston action of his loose fist ignited my sparkling nerves. "Oh fuck," I warned.

Arm extended, Jamie positioned his coffee mug as Brett pumped. Haphazardly I spurted a gummy noodle right over Jamie's mug onto his upper thigh, squirting more strands into and onto the rim of his mug, the floor, again into Jamie's mug, which he lowered, catching the final drooping gobs of semen Brett milked from my cock.

Palsied by minor mid-section contractions, I caught my breath amid reverential indoor silence, the cries of distant gulls. When Brett finally released my spent erection, it sprung halfway up. He smeared a gob of sperm right across my open mouth. I licked my lips, swallowing. Brett's right hand slid down, cupping my scrotum, gently squeezing.

No longer watching us, with both hands Jamie carefully sipped hot, tainted coffee, apparently talking only to himself. "Just the way I like it."

Brett and I laughed. Then my naked roommate turned, stepping to the picture window, gazing out over the neglected yard, a narrow beach, an upside down white Sunfish, the weathered dock, the wide bay, all of it barely visible in the gloom -- I swear all I could see were Jamie's pale, perfect buttocks. Brett loosened his arms, releasing me. I turned, glancing down at his familiar erection and nicely trimmed hair. "I know that cock," I thought.

Brett crossed the kitchen to hug Jamie from behind. Jamie placed his mug on the table. Reaching back, he slipped both hands under Brett's shirt tails to cup and squeeze his buttocks. Brett turned Jamie by the arms, Big Cock bobbing, reflecting dimly against dark glass. Brett pulled a chair closer to the window, placed his right hand against Jamie's belly, his left against Jamie's upper back and pushed him over slightly.

"Pull your leg up," Brett said. My original boyfriend was once again jumping ahead of me sexually as he positioned my roommate for something Jamie and I, even at eighteen still had not attempted.

Jamie lifted his right knee onto the chair, bending further from the waist, palms down on table. Brett inserted his cock between the swells of Jamie's exposed crevice, pressing forward then pausing to look at me.

"It's too dry," he said. I was now his accomplice.

"Here," I said, "let me help."

I ran the tap, wet my hand with warm water, squeezed a few drops of soap onto my fingers and crossed the kitchen. Brett stood back to present his rigid shaft and swollen cap, all of which I lubricated with soapy water. I slid my hand deeply between Jamie's buttocks then watched as Brett stepped closer, again pointing his cock, slowly stuffing the bulbous glans into Jamie's puckered anus.

My roommate groaned, inhaled, held his breath. Incredulous, Brett glanced at me then placed both hands on Jamie's buttocks, gradually inserting his whole shaft. Jamie blew air, putting his head down on folded arms as Brett slowly pushed in and pulled out, the prominent vein along the top of his shaft barely visible in the dark.

My own distended penis was again filling with blood simply from the sight of Brett's hard cock disappearing into and reappearing from within Jamie's widely stretched orifice as tiny soap bubbles blossomed, clustering in Brett's dark brown pubic hair.

Jamie whimpered rhythmically with Brett's every thrust. To mitigate my roommate's discomfort I placed my right hand on his lower back. With my left, I fondled and stroked his persistent erection.

He looked up at me bravely. But when Brett slapped his right buttock Jamie dropped his head.

Brett's thrusting accelerated. Jamie's coffee spilled, the whole table rocked. Like a hapless bitch taken from behind, Jamie raised his head, craning around to identify his assailant, but the ambient light had almost completely failed. He dropped his head again.

Thrusting, grunting, Brett frantically clapped both buttocks pulling Jamie's ass up tight, Jamie crying out, his coffee spilling. Gulping air, Brett pulled back thrusting hard again. Jamie cried out again, more coffee spilling. With a light touch I consoled Big Cock, still hard, pointing down.

Blissfully Brett closed his eyes, tipping his head back slowly pumping Jamie's ass. Then, fully inserted, he looked right at me as if he couldn't believe where he had just ejaculated. Equally amazed, I could only stare back at him.

Gradually catching his breath, he finally withdrew slick hard muscle from Jamie's inflamed, dilated anus, which clenched, drooling semen onto the rounded protruding base of his scrotum. Brett squeezed a final gob of sperm onto the pale skin inside Jamie's buttock then released his accomplished cock.

Jamie turned, collapsing onto the chair. He looked directly at Brett's erection, forgivingly, even lovingly petting it. Still recovering, Brett playfully mussed Jamie's hair.

Dumbfounded, I returned to the sink, pulling paper towels from the roll. Brett stepped around me, wetting his hand, dripping water onto his stubborn erection, which I gently dabbed dry.

"Was that your first piece of ass?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I tended like a medic to Brett's bruised cock.

"Yeah?" he asked defensively, watching my hand.

"How was it?" Jamie asked, waggling Big Cock in the near dark. Brett and I looked up.

"It was sweet," he answered.

Jamie smiled, to my relief. "I need paper towels," he said; "my butt's leaking."

I tore off more towels, which Jamie stuffed under his ass. Wiping spilled coffee I noticed Brett's distended penis finally tipping diagonally. Inexplicably he pulled off his shirt, bunching it between his hands stepping naked behind me toward Jamie, dropping his shirt on the floor, kneeling. Proud of him to realize his intention, I turned around better to watch the proceedings, my own cock very hard again, demanding at least a few encouraging strokes.

Brett pinched slowly up the shaft of Jamie's long, thick erection, which had been hard so long it spilled a tiny thimble of pre-ejaculate. Tilting the erection to his mouth he licked the oil. Swallowing, he then looked up at me quizzically, as if registering for the first time my roommate's unusually generous endowment, which made Brett's hand appear smaller.

"Wow," he whispered.

More than willing to share the wealth, I smiled back at Brett, who again faced Jamie's remarkable cock. He pursed his lips gently to kiss and taste the oily tip of swollen ovate bulb. Swallowing, he looked at me again like a little boy holding a surprise birthday present then lowered his head, opened his mouth wide and began sliding lips and tongue up and down over the top third of Jamie's erection.

Amazed, Jamie looked up at me, opening his mouth to breathe, slowly blinking his eyes, rolling his head around as Brett steadily bobbed for apples. I smiled back at Jamie despite my own pang of jealousy -- Brett had never returned my Thanksgiving blowjob, and here he was all too ambitiously going down on my roommate, whom he'd just met.

Stepping closer, I pried Jamie's left leg wider open kneeling on cold linoleum to join Brett's pagan worship. A patient parishioner, I waited for my hometown boyfriend to pause. Smiling at him as he pulled up sloppily catching his breath, I tipped Jamie's erection toward me proprietarily, licking slowly up the warm moist marbled stem. Brett stuck out his tongue joining my slower rhythm, which I knew Jamie favored.

Salivating, Brett and I together licked the scalloped skin of Jamie's sac, his smooth hard shaft, his bulbous orchid glans. Our slick dueling tongues kept touching as we indulged in my roommate's irresistible anatomy; as if by accident, we stole and shared several open-mouth first kisses beside the indomitable erection, a potent symbol for, a silent witness to and a towering testament of Brett's and my earliest, earthiest attraction, rediscovered and redeemed.

Preemptively I tipped Big Cock to my mouth, opening wide to show Brett my highly refined, slow-motion labial stimulation of Jamie's velvety corona. But when I paused for air, Brett reclaimed the erection like an eager young student, applying his own luxurious sucking as I knelt back on my heels to watch.

Jamie slapped one hand onto Brett's head. Not missing a beat, Brett groped for the other hand guiding them both to cover his ears so Jamie could control the rhythm of Brett's drooling mouth. The rhythm quickened. Jamie began huffing. "It's coming," he whispered, drawing breath, clamping down Brett's deaf mouth, looking wide-eyed at me.

Brett hummed with startled satisfaction, his mouth obviously clogging with tepid, gooey sperm I could almost taste. But he suddenly pulled his head up, a trailing spurt of semen bisecting his chin: Jamie's big ripe cock was still spitting. As Brett swallowed and gulped air, I reached quickly for my roommate's pulsating muscle, squeezing it to stripe Brett's hairy sternum, depleting yet another of Jamie's copious ejaculations. He moaned gratefully, exhaling a long sigh. Then as I proudly held the big, slick, spent erection, I placed my other hand on the back of Brett's neck.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Panting, Brett fingered the strand of semen from his chin back into his mouth, swallowed, licked his lips and looked at me, grinning victoriously.

"Of course!" he insisted, just beginning to catch his breath. "Man, did I take a mouthful."

"Tell me about it," I said smugly, waggling with aplomb Jamie's superior cock. To my delight, Brett leaned forward to the side, licked, sipped and swallowed the opaque noodle of my melting semen from Jamie's thigh then turned and again looked right at me.

"Just the way I like it," he said. We all laughed. Jamie dutifully rubbed the webs of his ejaculate into Brett's chest. Inside and out, it was almost completely dark. Each of us had ejaculated, one way or another, so for the moment, the score was tied.

"How 'bout we go swimming?" I suggested. Having caught his breath, Brett stood first, partially erect. Then Jamie stood, his big cock still grossly inflated but ebbing. First pivoting left and right to kiss both plump members, I was last to stand, displaying a fresh erection that wasn't about to soften. Spontaneously my friends and I huddled, smiling down at handsome penises in various phases of arousal and recovery.

"Come on," I said, pulling away. I led my naked posse quickly back through the living room and front porch out into chilly rain on the lawn.

"How deep is it out there?" Brett asked. Before I could answer he took off running across grass then sand.

"Only eight or ten feet," I called. "Jump, don't dive!"

Like a dark, naked halfback with churning legs, pale, compact buttocks and pumping arms, Brett whooped as his feet slapped the horizontal planks of the dock from the end of which he launched himself screaming like a banshee into a big phosphorescent splash.

I turned to Jamie patting his bottom.

"You're next," I said.

He took off running, his lovely pale buttocks joggling away from me. At the end of the dock he leaped yelling "Geronimo!" displacing an exploding inner tube of foamy water. I could hear but couldn't see Brett and Jamie laughing and frolicking.