Every Which Way

Greg had been fucking me since I was eighteen and he was nineteen. He took after his stepfather, Clay, in that fetish. He was still fucking me, just like his stepdad was, but he was fucking Ricky now too—just like his stepdad was. I knew he was doing that because, although school had started now and Ricky wasn't around as much as he had been in the summer, on warm days in the summer when we came over to do the Rusks' lawn—I came with Greg a couple of times a month to trim the bushes while he mowed—Ricky managed to be around and out by their backyard pool, posing in nothing but a skimpy Speedo. Greg would take him into the woods, lay him on the ground, and strip off Ricky's Speedo. Ricky would quite willingly spread and raise his legs, roll his hips up, and pull Greg's cock inside him. Then he'd moan and beg for it while Greg fucked him hard.

Greg didn't care if I saw them doing it—and like his stepdad did the other day after soccer practice, it didn't stop Greg from fucking me in the landscape truck before we took it back to the company garage that same day. Truth be known, I would lie on my back for Greg, spread and raise my legs for him, pull him inside me, and let him fuck me hard too.

I didn't know until the fall that Greg was doing both Mr. and Mrs. Rusk. I shouldn't have been surprised, considering the looks the two gave Greg while Greg was mowing their lawn and since Mr. Rusk seemed a little, well, girlish, and Mrs. Rusk was quite obviously on the prowl. I hoped I didn't come across like Mr. Rusk did to Greg and Mr. Denton. Just because you're submissive, you don't have to prance around with limp wrists, I don't think. Mr. Rusk was a little obvious—at least to me. I try my best not to be that obvious to anyone, although I'll have to admit that all it takes from Mr. Denton or Greg is to give me "that look," and I'll lie down on my back and open my legs for them.

Thus, I wasn't really surprised when one day right after school started Mr. Rusk came into the garden shed where the mowers were kept and Mrs. Rusk probably did her plant potting—because there was a bench with empty pots and bags of potting soil on it. That afternoon, I was perched on that bench, with my knees hooked on Greg's hips, and he was crouched between my legs, one hand on the small of my back and the other cupping the back of my neck, both of us naked, while he stuffed his hard dick up inside me and fucked me in long strokes. Greg had a champion dick—at least in length and staying power—when he was hard.

Steven Rusk came in and saw us, but Greg didn't seem to notice—or, if he noticed, he didn't care. And, after a while it was clear that he knew Mr. Rusk was there. I looked away in embarrassment, thinking Mr. Rusk would leave in shock and that both Greg and I would be in trouble at the prep school, where Mr. Rusk was a department head. But I didn't hear the shed door slam shut, and when I looked around, Mr. Rusk was leaning against a shelf with garden stuff on it, had his fly open and his dong out, and he was stroking himself and watching Greg fuck me.

"You want him too?" Greg asked Mr. Rusk, lifting and turning my leg to show Mr. Rusk how much of Greg's cock was inside me and how big I'd dilated to take the shaft.

He laughed when Mr. Rusk said, in a husky voice, "You know what I want, Greg."

"What do you want, Steve?" Greg asked, forcing Mr. Rusk to beg for it.

"I want what Kyle's getting," the man answered. Greg laughed, lowered my leg and thrust hard up inside me, making me jerk and cry out.

"Is this what you want too, Kyle?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, fuck me hard, just like that," I cried out. And he did, putting some serious backswing into his thrusts and both Mr. Rusk and I held there, panting hard and moaning.

After a few minutes I came, but Greg didn't. As I noted, he had great staying power. He laughed, pulled out me, and sort of guided me off the bench and over to the side. He motioned to Mr. Rusk, who stripped off his trousers and briefs and perched up on the bench on his bare butt where I'd been. Greg put him in the same position he'd had me in, although Mr. Rusk got into the fuck more than I had. Instead of hooking his knees on Greg's hips, he bent his legs and pressed the heels of his feet into the edge of the bench top, raising his pelvis, and swung his hips against Greg's thrusts, fucking himself on Greg's cock.

They knew what they were doing. They'd obviously done this before—often.

I crouched down on my haunches just as I had when I watched Mr. Denton fucking Ricky on the bench in the woods, took my cock in my hand, and stroked myself off while I watched the two fucking like they were old pros at it. As far as I knew they were.

When Mr. Rusk left, I asked Greg, "How long have you and Mr. Rusk been doing that?"

"Since I was eighteen, Kyle. That's when he likes to pick an academy student out for sex."

"So, he was—"

"Yes, he was my first. I got an A in English that year." He laughed.

"Well, he never . . . with me."

"That's because you're a bottom, like he is, Kyle," Greg said. "He has no real use for you, but he might have felt you up and flirted with you until he found out that you didn't match him. He likes the lookers, and you're a looker. But he knew I was fucking you, so he knew from when you were eighteen that you didn't match him."

"And Ricky?"

"No. Ricky's a bottom too. His stepdad hasn't messed with him. He leaves that to me and my stepdad."

"So, you know about your stepdad?"

"That he's doing Ricky? Yes. I know he's doing you too. I don't mind sharing."

"Mr. Rusk knowing you fuck me? That won't make him . . . at school?"

"Nope. He's not going to screw up a good thing he has going with the guys the prep school gives him access to."

And, so that was it. Just about everyone doing everyone else. But I didn't know it all yet.

* * * *

A week later the Graham Hill Academy held its first association meeting of the school year in the evening at the school. I was there as an usher. And I found it shocking to see that the Rusks and Clay Denton's family were sitting together. I thought that was volatile in that it could lead to Ricky's parents and Mrs. Gerard discovering the "everyone doing everyone else" games going on between their families. Clay Denton, in particular, seemed to look like he was oblivious to what trouble he could be in if Mrs. Gerard and Mrs. Rusk put all of the innuendo and looks going on between the men and boys in the two families together.

Greg Gerard was also an usher and when we were standing next to each other in a lull of the arrivals, I asked him, "Aren't you worried about your mother and Mrs. Rusk putting it all together and causing a scene?"

"Not in the least," Greg answered, with a smile. "My mother's up front. She's president of the association, so her attention is all on business. Mrs. Rusk doesn't give two shits what Steven or Ricky do. It's all just fine. This isn't the Middle Ages, Kyle. None of us are kids. We're all fine with it. When the meeting gets started, how about the two of us slipping off and . . . you know what?"

He was grinning at me. "You've got nothing on your mind other that getting your dick hard and dipping it, do you?" I answered.

"You got that right, Kyle. So, how about it? Have you gone more than a week without getting fucked? I don't think you are any less interested in it than I am."

"Let's concentrate on our duties here, Greg," I said. "Here are some more people and there aren't many empty chairs to push their asses in left."

I hadn't answered Greg's question. But I didn't have to. He knew me and he knew what my answer was. When everyone was settled and the speeches had started to drone on, I went looking for Greg. The previous school year on nights like this, we'd meet in a men's room at the end of an isolated dark passage and I'd kneel in front of him as he sat on a toilet in a cubicle and suck him off. Then I'd climb onto his lap and his cock and fuck myself on him while meetings were going on in the far-off auditorium. I was a total submissive and he was a master, even at twenty.

The remote men's room was where I headed that night when the crowd was settled into the third dull speech of the evening. When I got there, though, it wasn't Greg who I found. I hadn't seen Clay Denton and Ricky Rusk leave the auditorium, but they obviously had done so as soon as the speeches started. Slipping silently into the darkened men's room, cast in hazy light by a streetlight outside a large window by the urinals, I saw that Clay had just finished with Ricky. Ricky was lying on his back on the men's room floor, in front of the line of sinks. He was still moaning and breathing hard and his pelvis was still lifted off the floor from the leverage of his feet on the floor and his legs bent and spread. One of his hands was encasing his hard cock, and I could see in a beam of light from the window the glitter of cum on his stomach. He'd just been done. His face was turned to the side where I could see his tongue hanging out and the expression of "I've been royally fucked" on his face.

Clay had apparently just left him, attracted to a second figure, a man this time, who I couldn't identify as he was turned toward the wall at the bank of urinals, his head turned away from me and toward the window, with his cheek against the cinder block wall above a urinal and his arms stretched out and up, his palms flat against the wall. He was hovering, bare from the waist down, over a urinal, with his hips jutting out from the wall and moving back and forth. Clay, also naked from the waist down, was saddled up behind the man, gripping the man's hips between his hands. Clay was half sheathed in the man's ass. As I entered the men's room, Clay was forcing his hard cock up farther into the man's ass, and the man was crying out in ecstasy. The cock wasn't fully buried and I watched its length expand and contract as Clay thrust his hips forward as the man thrust his pelvis back and then both men pulled back, exposing most of Clay's shaft before it was buried on the next thrust. It was a mutual fuck, the man as much engaged in it as Clay was.

I only watched for a moment, but Clay quickly set up a rhythm of the fuck and the man was moving with him, thrusting his buttocks back to meet the thrusts of Clay's cock and grunting a tune that matched the rhythm of the fuck. Clay slapped the man's butt cheek hard and the man groaned. Clay slapped him again, the sounds of the slap and the grunt reverberating through the high-ceilinged men's room. The man exclaimed "Fuck, yes!"

I backed out of the men's room and turned in the darkened hallway, only to see that Greg was approaching.

"There's someone in there," I said, as Greg approached. "Let's do it elsewhere."

"The ladies' room is just here, next door," Greg said, with a grin. "It'll be kicky to do it in there."

I sucked Greg engorged, kneeling in front of him sitting on the toilet in a cubicle in the dark ladies' room, murkily lit from the same streetlight outside the window that was dimly illuminating the adjacent men's room, where Clay was getting his rocks off. Greg could tell as much as I could what was happening in the men's room, as the man Clay was fucking was very vocal and the wall between the two chambers didn't fully mask the sound. I must admit that the sound of fucking just next door was a turn on for me on this side of the wall.

I normally would ride Greg's cock, sitting in his lap facing him or facing away from him, but when I rose to sit on Greg's cock, he rose too, turned me to the wall, my cheek against the cool, rough cinder blocks behind the toilet, my palms against the wall on spread arms, and my butt jutting out over the toilet seat. Gripping my hips, Greg fucked me in the same position as Clay was fucking the unknown man in front of a urinal across the wall in the men's room. I very likely had my cheek against the wall at the same point the man had his against the wall, and it all helped me imagining that it was Clay, with his much thicker cock, fucking me rather than Greg.

Greg must have been in tune with what was happening on the other side of the wall, because I sensed the rhythm of his fuck merging with the sounds of the reaction of the man in the men's room to Clay's fuck.

Greg brought a hand around and stroked my cock off as he fucked me. I came in short order and we held there, both panting, as we recovered. Clay's fuck was still continuing. He had admirable control. Since Greg wasn't moving, I had to believe he was going to fuck me again. That was just fine with me.

"It wasn't just that someone is in the men's room and taking a leak, is it, Kyle?" Greg whispered in my ear.

"No," I answered. "Your stepdad was in there with Ricky. He'd just fucked Ricky on the floor when I entered and was going after some man I couldn't identify at the urinals."

"I'm not surprised. They always come before Clay does. You couldn't see that that was Steven Rusk?" Greg asked. "I knew they were in there. I sort of thought we'd all get into a group fuck—everyone doing everyone else."

"That was Mr. Rusk?" I asked, incredulous. "Your stepdad fucks Mr. Rusk?"

"Sure. Who do you think initiated Clay when he was eighteen and going to Henderson Prep? Those two have been going at it for eight years."

"And your mom and Mrs. Rusk don't know?"

Greg snorted. "Of course they know. They don't give a shit. Those two are having it out with each other. It really is everyone doing everyone else here in sweet Henderson."

And, point of fact, when Greg and I slid out of the women's room as quietly as we could, there stood Mrs. Rusk.

"Ummm, sorry," I said. "The men's room was out of order, so we were—"

"I didn't come here to relieve myself," Mrs. Rusk said. "I came here for something else. Let's the three of us go back in the ladies room."

And so we did.