No Strings...

"Fuck," Michael says. Then cradling me to him, "Looks like it's you and me, Babe," he says. "Ride 'em cowboy!" And he plunges himself into me right up to his pubes.

And ride 'em we do. It is like he has gone into overdrive. Rearing back, he drives himself forward, ploughing into me I am sure his full length. Then out and in again, and again, and again. I feel Ivan's arm beneath my shoulders, holding me.

Michael is fucking me like he has never fucked me before. Deeper and rougher and more forcefully. It is like I can feel him right up in my solar plexus. Driving himself into me. His cock probing the walls of my passage. Exploring pockets never before discovered.

And I am giving as good as I get. Thrusting my hips up to meet his as. Grinding my pelvis around his cock every time he thrusts forward and pulls back. The walls of my anus squeezing it on every thrust, pulling him in as he pulls out.

He has a powerful rhythm going. But every now and then, he breaks it with a jerk, and drives himself forcefully high up into me. Almost like a hiccup, and a powerful reaction to it. Now he is giggling.

"Whaaa?" I manage to ask.

"Ivan," he blurts out, "he's fingering my ass. Then he pokes his finger in my asshole."

"Bugger," I snort, half joking, directing it to Ivan.

"Me?" Ivan retorts, feigning all innocence. "I'm not the one who is buggering you."

Then he adds, " Nice bum. Would if I could."

"I know you would," I fire back. "And I would let you, if you could!" "Just like I would bum-fuck you, if I could," I add, trying to make light of our deficiencies. "That's why Michael gets to do it."

He has poked Michael again, and Michael drives himself into me.

"Love it," I say, "Love it, Ivan. Don't quit. Love it."

Okay, buggering me. Yes, I have had my share of dicks up my bum. Some good. Some not so good. Michael, though, and his nine inch prong, and what he doesn't do with it, they are in a class by themselves. Unbelievable.

'And, yeah,' my inner voice is saying, 'you are

just now getting to where you can take him, and you are gonna be throwing it over.' I tell myself 'Not now.' Now is not the time for any inner dialogue.

There's a change in what Michael is doing. Now powerful deep thrusts, over and over again. More powerful than I can ever remember. Deeper than I ever I can remember.

Ivan recognizes what is happening, and works his hand to my dick, massaging my balls, now stroking me.

Michael is slamming into me, harder and harder, high in the saddle, and I am bucking beneath him.

"Harder. Fuck me harder," I am saying to him, "I can take it." I rise up to meet his thrusts, just as forcefully as he is delivering them, twisting and turning, this way and that. Higher, and harder.

His arms around me, mine around him, he slams into me harder. I grind my hips, and he grinds his, the two of us grinding together. Now raising my hips to meet him pushing deep into me. He's riding me, holding my shoulders. I buck and twist and turn, urging him to likewise. Buck and twist and turn.

'Fuck,' I hear him, "You're a wild man!"

"Me?" I snort, "You!" "Just give it to me." "Harder."

He pulls back, and rams it home, and ramming it home, he drills down on my prostate. It hits me like a jolt, a high voltage electric shock, head to toe, sparks everywhere.

I deliver one powerful hip thrust, forcing him pube-deep into me. "Whoa," he says, "What was that?"

"My magic on button," I tell him. "Do it again, and hang on."

He probes for it again, hits it, and again, sparks. Everywhere. Head to toe. I buck beneath him, lifting him high off me. He probes it again, and again, and each time the jolt of electricity, raising us both off the bed. He hits it again, and I am soaring. Again. And again. And again.

"Fuck me," I am saying, calling his name, "Fuck me." "Michael." Over and over again. "Fuck me." "Michael." "Fuck me."

And Ivan's name. Ivan is working my cock and balls for all he is worth, squeezing, massaging, - "Wooo, Ivan" - going for what stimulation he can, bringing me on. "C'mon, baby," he is saying. "C'mon." "Come when he comes."

Michael now is pounding me harder and harder, going deeper and deeper. He's a jackhammer,driving it home. Over and over again. Harder. Faster. Again. And again. And again.

I hear myself, "Fuck me." "Fuck me." "Fuck me." "Fuck me." "Fuck me." "Fuck me."

I am soaring higher and higher, and higher. "Fuck me, Michael." "Fuck me." "Fuck me." I am going into orbit. "Ivan." "Ivan." "Michael,fuck me." "Fuck me."

Then, suddenly, Michael is dead still. He is holding me. I hear him still calling my name, repeating it over and over, just as I am calling his name. Together now we are soaring, now planing, gliding, in a new dimension. And deep within me, I know Michael is discharging what has been building in his loins. Shooting out of him, from his loins, the essence of himself. Holding me tight, in as deep as he can be, ejaculation upon ejaculation, breeding me, except for the latex barrier.

And, ecstasy upon ecstasy, I am discharging what has been building in my loins, warm, semi-fluid, the essence of myself, ejaculating it between our bellies, into Ivan's hand. And I am calling Ivan's name. With Michael's. Over and over.

Bliss. Pure bliss.

Time standing still. Time merging with space.

From his mouth, - Michael's - a sound, - guttural, shapeless, primal, male - unlike any other that I have heard, the proclamation of being male and having bested another male, and claiming that other male for his own. And from my mouth, from my innermost being, a like sound, guttural, shapeless, primal, male, responding, knowing again what it is to give myself to be fucked. To be fucked - and fucked good. To be claimed by him. And to have given as good as I got. I am his. And he is mine.

'Hold me," I am telling them, - Michael, Ivan, - "Hold me tight." And I feel them, brute strength, gathering me in their arms, their cheeks to my cheeks, still repeating my name. Then kisses. Kisses and more kisses. Michael's mouth. Ivan's mouth.

"Fuck," Michael is saying, "Fuck." Over and over again. Over and over again.

His weight on top of me, his semen inside me, I am enjoying this moment. Treasuring it. Every second of it.

Now heads are bunting into my neck above my shoulders. My name is still on their lips. Ivan holding me. Michael holding me. Michael holding Ivan. Me holding Ivan.

Coming down.

Our holds loosening.

Michael inside of me beginning to soften.

'Fuck, I love these guys,' I say to myself.

And immediately my inner voice is saying, 'And you are walking away from them.'

The ecstasy is gone. Again the ache in the pit of my stomach. I hug them to me, tears about to spill from my eyes.

Now Ivan rolling onto his back, reaching for my hand, his hand warm and wet with what I have shot into it.

Michael, long and slow, is vacating me, and I feel the emptiness.

Michael reaching for my hand, bringing it to my belly, holding it there.

Michael, with his other hand, stroking himself, still sheathed in the latex.

Suddenly, I want to go down on it before he can strip it off. I want the taste of where he has been, what juices of mine that he has stirred up. And then to strip off the latex and take into my mouth what of him I can from his quivering hard-on. To go down on him, while he is softening, to taste, to savour, what there is of himself, still wet and warm that only moments before he had ejaculated within me, driving me to ecstasy. And to share it with him and with Ivan, their mouths warm and wet and eager.

Never before have I done this. Have we done this. Now it is like I am compelled to. We are compelled to. Face into his groin. Funky. I get the scent of man sex, the scent of Eros, the dank scent of his heated crotch, the sweet brown after-smell of ass-fucking. Going down on it. Taking it into my mouth.

Now stripping off the latex, going down on it again, eager for his man juice. Tasting it. Savouring it.

Sharing it. Mouth to mouth with Ivan, with Michael.

But not stopping, I am going down on him again. Working him. Cupping his balls, kneading them. Sucking him. Tonguing his foreskin. Up and down on him, stimulating him to come again if he is able, to shoot into my mouth what may be remaining in his loins. Suddenly he is heaving up from the bed, his hands on his belly, and he is flooding my mouth with what I had hoped I could get from him.

Now sharing it, Ivan and I, and then Michael, mouths wet and sloppy.

And we lay there. The three of us.

Ivan's arms are now around me, Michael's interwoven with Ivan's.

"Fuck," Michael says emphatically, "You are a wild man. "

"You like?" I ask, playfully.

"I like," Michael says. "And you know I do!"

We lay there, Ivan on my left, arm cradling my shoulder, Michael on my right, his leg now thrown over mine.

I don't want this to be the end.

We continue to lay there. Michael is palming my belly, and I am savouring the mood and feeling. Ivan is nuzzling my ear.

Reverie. Michael, Ivan, me. Man with man with man. Like our ancient Celtic forebears, bedding together, sharing the physical intimacies of each with each, sexually, man with man with man.

Michael breaks in on it, sitting up. "That's it," he says, "I'm done. Fucked out. Shower and bed."

And to me, "You are staying the night?"

"I am," I affirm. I feel Ivan squeezing my hand.

'Tomorrow is another day,' I tell myself.

"Ok, showers it is." Michael says, and he is off the bed, Ivan and I following on.

I woke up once for sure, twice maybe in the night. The first time Ivan's arm was around me and he was softly snoring in my ear. Michael was stretched out beside me, his hand again on my belly. I was content. More than content.

The second time, maybe I was dreaming, I was in Michael's arms, his cheek against my cheek, his mouth at my ear, Ivan's arm cradling me. And it is running through my mind, 'Fuck, I love these guys. Fuck, I love these guys. I don't want to give this up. This is too good.'

I was the last to awaken in the morning. It was Ivan, his mouth wet and sloppy, who was waking me, kissing me awake. 'Mmmmm,' I like this,' I am telling myself, smelling Ivan's manscent, coming awake.

I stretch, and throw my arms around him. "Morning,' I say.

'Morning yourself,' he says, asking 'Sleep well?"

"Like a baby," I mumble. "Something like that, anyway," I continue, slurring, trying for half-awake good humour. 'You?"

"Like a baby," he comes back, smacking me on the backside, "Up. Michael's already in the kitchen."

"Time is it?" I ask.

"Breakfast," Ivan says.

"Lemme go pee first," I say, and head for the bathroom. Not too steadily. 'A little wobbly on your feet,' I remark to myself, 'Not moving any too quick this morning, are you.'

Washing my hands in the basin, I check out my face in the mirror, 'Ugh, rough one,' I say, 'you look like you have been dragged through the proverbial knothole backwards.'

'Good one, that, last night,' I tell myself, grinning.

Then the inner voice, 'And you are going to tell them this morning?'

'Yes,' I say, annoyed at myself for this persistence, 'I am going to tell them this morning. Not before breakfast. Not over breakfast. After.'

None of us have bothered to dress, naked as we had slept. Normal for breakfast the morning after. Michael is chef, all energy. "Eggs? Cereal? What's it gonna be first," he asks.

"Coffee," I say, smelling it brewing.

"Coffee, it is," he says, putting a mug in front of me, filling it. "Cream, sugar, right there," he says, his hand with the coffee pot indicating where.

"Now," he continues, "Top up your protein quotient? Or you still going on last night?" He is smirking.

"Eggs, yeah," I say, "And cereal." And realizing I am hungry, I add, 'Fuck, I could eat a horse. "

"Hmm, well, best we can do is a couple of asses," he replies, pleased with his pun, "You could eat those out."

The conversation continues with further lewd comments about our capabilities in bed, each of us, and each of us defending our honour, each of us in a jovial mood. Conversation moves to what is in this morning's news on television, Ivan and Michael batting opinion back and forth, and I chip in a comment when able. We move on to plans for the day, upbeat, how I am welcome to join them, no problem. I am non-committal. They look at me, puzzled, but shrug it off. Then, the ache in the pit of my stomach, and I, not unconnected, suddenly have to go evacuate my bowels.

Sitting on the john, 'I know,' I tell my inner voice, 'it is now you tell them.' 'Literally,' I muse, 'as Ivan would tell you, 'time to poop and to get off the pot.' 'Moment of truth.'

I flush. I wash my hands. I rehang the towel, and leave to rejoin them. 'Fuck, I do love them, both of them,' I am telling myself again. 'I just wish ..'

No,' I interrupt my thought, and tell myself again, what I told myself yesterday,'You're an adult male, and you have been indulging in some very adolescent behaviour. And you knew you could get burned. And now you have. Time to end it. Just do it. Clean.'

They are sitting on the chesterfield, side by side, Ivan's hand in Michael's crotch, stroking his leg.

"So," Michael asks, "what's the word?"

"All systems functioning normally," I fire back. And hoping to add a little levity, "Thought for sure after the ass-pounding last night, I wasn't gonna shit for a week."

Michael snorted, "That good, eh!"

"That good!" "You know it," I reply.

"C'mon here," Ivan says, signalling me to join them on the chesterfield, the two of them separating so I would sit between them. "Need to know what you think."

"Think about what?" I asked. Whatever it is is pre-empting for the moment what I was going to say to them. I settle myself between them. Not exactly a tight squeeze, but not exactly not one either.

Ivan looks past me at Michael.

"What?" I asked them.

Michael looks at me, and says simply, "We would like to put your name on the lease."

"Lease? What lease?" I ask.

"Our lease," Ivan replies, "On this place."

"Your lease. On this place." I echo, just making sure I had heard correctly.

"Yes. We want you to move in with us," Michael clarifies. "All of us to bunk in together. The three of us. A threesome."

"Whoa," I come back. This I was not expecting. A threesome, yeah, in my wildest dreams, something I had somehow hoped for. But I never figured it was something that could happen. Now here it was, out in front of me.

I wasn't sure how to go about replying. "Well, ..," I start, and Ivan interrupts.

"You like us, don't you?" he asks, continuing, "And you're here as much as you are at home."

'Well, I'm not really here all that much,' I am thinking, then, 'Well, maybe I am.'

"Yes, I like you," I reply emphatically.

"And we like you. More than like you, really. Very fond of you, really."

"And likewise," I say. There's a lump rising in my throat. I look at Michael, wondering what he might be thinking. He is nodding his affirmation.

Ivan continues, "So we've been talking about it, Michael and I, and we decided to put it to you. You move in here with us, - the three of us, together." "Hang together." "In the big bed," he adds slyly.

'Fuck,' I am thinking, all that I had been thinking about, and maybe more, being held out to me. All I have to do is say 'yes.'

"Well?" Michael asks.

Ivan jumps in, again, "Family. We'd be family. The three of us."

He continues, "When you go home, you go home alone to an empty pad. Yourself and four walls. Here, well, a one-bedroom, yes, but lotsa room, lots more room than where you are, to stretch out in, as much privacy as you need, whenever. And you know what we can offer you in terms of 'amentities'!"

"Fuck," I said aloud.

"Yes, that," Ivan deadpans, "As much sucking and fucking, and snuggling, and snogging, as you can manage!"

It was all I had come to hope for. From the first that I had known I was falling for them, It was what I had somehow hoped for. Together whenever, instead of just once in a while, and then singly when one or the other wanted company when the other was away. Dinners, cooking it up in the kitchen. Shopping. Groceries. Michael buying his shirts. Ivan sampling his forbidden candies. The beach. The gym - well, that was more my thing. Movies. Evenings at home, the chesterfield and the big TV. Nights, the big bed.

"You'd like to?" Michael queries.

"Yes," I reply, forcefully.

"Say the word, and we can move you in today," Michael says. "We'll buy up your lease where you are, and get you over here."

"Fuck," I say

"I take that as 'yes'," Michael says.

"Yes," I say, "Yes. Yes it is," I reply.

With that, Michael wraps his arms around me, and pulls me in, his lips on mine, one long, passionate, hot, tonguing kiss.

"Love you, dude," he says when we break. And immediately, Ivan pulls me to him, his lips on mine, in an equally long, passionate, hot and tonguing kiss. "Goes for me too," he says.

"Whew," I respond, my head reeling. "Love you too, you guys, both of you." I stammer, tears beginning to stream from my eyes.

"Fuck, I don't believe this," I say. Now I am blubbering, "Love you both. Loved you both for how long - just didn't say so. Couldn't. Didn't know how to."

It is Michael who puts his mouth to my cheek, kissing away the tears. He is crying too. "Don't think we haven't been trying to figure out how to say the "L" word," he says.

Ivan is crying too. And then he pulls me to him, his mouth on mine, again one very long, passionate, intimate, kiss.

'Ivan. Michael. Too much,' I am saying to myself, 'Too much.'

After a moment, Michael interrupts.

"Okay then," he says, "Just one thing."

'Oh, oh, here it comes,' I am thinking.

"It will mean a foursome," Michael continues.

I am puzzled.

"Off and on again. NSA," Michael continues. "You guys don't get to have it all. I do like to get fucked once in a while, and, well, no offense, fucking is something you can't do - you or Ivan. So .. " he concludes.

I look at Ivan. Ivan is looking at me. What am I gonna say. Then Ivan says, "I'm okay with it, if that is what you are wondering. We've talked, Michael and I."

"Look at it this way," he continues," there's your bum and my bum when he whoever he is is not sticking it to Michael. And I won't speak for you, but when it comes to what I get up my ass, just like it is in everything, variety is the spice of life."

"Well, when you put it that way," I reply, "I can be up for it."

"Deal?" Michael asks.

"Deal," I reply, putting out my fist.

Michael closes his fist and puts it on mine, - "Deal," he says, - and then Ivan, "Deal!"

'Fuck,' I am thinking, 'I can live with this. I'm gonna like this! I think I am really gonna like this.'