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Tenting Tonight

Pete :wave:

Your story, and the way you are telling it, are absolutely Phenomenal, and quite Intriguing! Not only am I totally fascinated with You, and Paul, but also with 'Paulo' and Albert :=D: ..|

I am, most eagerly, looking forward to reading MUCH More! I find the [STRIKE]tail[/STRIKE] tale you are sharing triggering so many 'buttons' in my own mind. :cool:

Like "Your" Paul, I am a Preacher's Kid, too (though, in my case, much shorter). And, my freshman roomy, in Chicago, was a tall, lanky, P.K., also. However, we never quite 'clicked', and spent most of our time ignoring each other as best we could. #-o

However, since the churches, in Ohio, provided our housing, my parents were able to buy a small place on Wellfleet's harbor, in the late '60s, and I got to know Boston, a bit, but mainly became very familiar with "The Cape", P-town, and the Portuguese fishing community. Therefore, I can relate to not only your setting, but also 'Paulo', his 'circumstances', and the Times that your 'characters' are living through. (!)

Therefore, I have some personal infinity with your story, which makes it even more enthralling for me. I can not THANK YOU, enough, for bringing all of this Alive (Plus *|* )! (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss:(*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
Tenting Tonight, chapter 7

Before I post chapter 7, I have to correct something. I was re-reading my own work, and I noticed that I projected something backward. Retrojected a cellphone into chapter 4. Cellphones are so much a part of our lives that it seems like they were always there. But they weren’t.

Paul didn’t have a cellphone in college. Nobody did. The only mobile phones were huge, clunky things that weighed a ton and cost a fortune. There were answering machines, and if you paid enough, you could get an answering machine that let you phone in and leave a memo message. Paul had one of those, and he gave me the number for it. I had almost forgotten about it, until I was drafting this just about the time that Steve Jobs died. When they were talking about the iPhone, I suddenly remembered that I got my first cellphone after college. Not during college. And then I remembered about Paul’s answering machine, made by Cobra, a cheap electronics outfit that was popular with students. I remember also that Paul’s machine always had sassy outgoing messages.

Sorry for the error. Memory is the second thing to go. I forget what the first is.

I am taking these chapters out of the full story that I started writing weeks ago. I have a lot more to post. People I've mentioned will come back, at the very least so I can tie up loose ends.
--

We headed for the shower. We never made it.

Let me rephrase that. We made it in the doorway to the bathroom. We made it leaning against the bathtub. We made it in the steam room. We made it in the sauna. We were going to make it in the cold dipping pool, but we were so freezing cold in that pool that I couldn’t find Paul’s cock, which was in hiding.

We finally did shower, and we washed each other’s back, front, and all the good parts. We finally crawled back to our alcove room, exhausted, at about 5 AM.

I was totally drained. But I was with Paul. I could get used to this.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms, and we awoke to the aroma of fresh coffee. Paul the waiter must have paid us a visit. We had to remember to give him a lot of good orgasms.

Neither of us had classes until late afternoon, and when Paul the waiter finally popped in, we asked him what time Lindoro’s opened.

“Five PM is the official time, but we open earlier for special clients,” Paul told us.

“Paul, we owe you.”

“You owe me nothing. Certainly not to sleep with me. If you do, I hope it will be out of friendship and affection, not because you think you owe me.”

“When we sleep with you, and we intend to, it will because we both like you and we both feel attracted to you. We also like who we are when we are around you.”

“Those sound like good reasons,” Paul said as he left.

“We’re so lucky,” I told my Paul. He nodded, lazily, without opening his eyes. “Maybe we should get back to campus.”

“What’s your hurry?”

“Well, it takes us almost an hour by T during rush hour. We each have classes at 4. It’s 2:30 now. There’s not enough time for me to ravish you again and leave you a quivering mass of human gelatin, though it’s tempting to try.”

“Gelatin? I thought you liked me hard.”

“Parts of you. Some parts are better soft.”

“I hope you say that when we’re in our 80s and all the parts are soft.”

“Speak for yourself. Paul?”

“What?”

“Do you really see us together in our 80s?”

“I’ll be together. You’re a hopeless loser whom I intend to fuck raw and senseless.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Let me get dressed.”

“To fuck me raw and senseless?”

“After class. And you’ll have to take a number.”

“You’ve got guys lined up?”

“Mebbe.”

“Is that supposed to be an accent?”

“Mebbe.”

“Get dressed, OK? I need to be in class on time.”

“Why, are you meeting someone in class?”

“Mebbe,” I said. Paul cracked up.

Things were moving too fast not to hit a speed bump somewhere, but I didn’t want them to stop. We got back to the dorm with barely enough time to pick up our books and get to our classes. I had a English Comp class; Paul had a Rocks for Jocks class, which is what students called basic geology (as opposed to “Rocks for Brains,” geology for science majors). We agreed to meet at the dorm and get dinner on campus.

I got back to the dorm first, and I decided to try to find Liam. I called the number he gave us, and a guy with a sort of British accent answered. There was something a little off about his accent. It wasn’t any British accent I had heard before, but it was clearly not American. He spoke rapidly, and he seemed to stretch some words out while compressing others. It was as if every syllable was the same length. I thought for a moment it might be an Irish accent, but the melody of his speech was different from Irish accented English too.

“I’m looking for Liam.”

“Li-am?” he asked, the “am” going up.

“Student, red hair.”

“That could be half a dozen chaps here.”

“He might be a dancer.”

“I might be the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“You might be, but I didn’t think the Archbishop was so hard up that he’d take a night job answering the phone in an American college dorm.”

“Perceptive. One minute.” I heard him yell into the distance, perhaps down a hallway. “Phone for Liam of Swan Lake.”

“Swan Lake?” I asked him.

“Just a nickname to keep the Liams straight.”

“Is that important, keeping them straight?”

“It might be.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Here he is.”

“Liam?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Pete, from the other night at Lindoro’s.”

“Pete!”

“So they call you Liam of Swan Lake?”

“No. Well, a few friends do. Did the guy who answered the phone tell you that?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry. That’s because I call him ‘Liam of the Ten Inches.’”

“And that would be because...?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Sounds like a long something.”

“It is. Trust me. You guys are wonderful. You saved my ass.”

“And I have no doubt it's a nice ass. We kind of hoped you were saving it for us.”

“If that’s an offer, I can be there within an hour.”

“How do you know where we are?”

“I don’t, but I have the motivation of two studs waiting for me.”

“I see your point. Listen, Paul and I want to get together with you.”

“When?”

“How about this coming weekend?”

“Shit. I have rehearsals the next few days and all weekend, from 9 AM to 9 PM.”

“Swan Lake?”

“Very funny. For La Périchole. Our music and drama departments are collaborating on Offenbach’s La Périchole, and it opens the following weekend. This weekend we have tech rehearsals. But I want to see you.”

“We’ll come see La Peri...”

“Périchole. That would be great. How’s Paul?”

“Paul is great. Listen, Liam, this is a surprise for him. I called before we discussed it because I know he wants to see you. We both do. And I wanted to talk with you before he does.”

“Oh-oh. That sounds serious.”

“Paul and I were never a couple until just hours before we met you. We’ve been roommates, but nothing more. I was proud of him when he stood up for you. I was listening and was about to do the same.”

“You were both great.”

“I think Paul finds you very attractive.”

“Is that a problem for you? I don’t want to do anything that would...”

“No, it’s not a problem. I also find you very attractive, but I noticed that you had your eyes on Paul. And don’t tell him I told you, but he’s mentioned red pubic hair a few times.”

Liam started laughing, maybe a bit nervously.

“If you and Paul want to fool around, it’s OK with me. I’m not the jealous kind, and I don’t want to...”

“Only if you join us.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. I owe both of you my ass, and I want you to have it. But you’ll have to give it back for performances.”

“Liam?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you serious/”

“Damn right, I am. I don’t have a lot of experience with other guys. I was closeted in high school. Even in the arts, there are a lot of people who go out of their way to be nasty to a gay guy. If I’m going to go through that, I might as well have the benefits. And I see the two of you as a benefit. Even if we don’t fuck, I want to be friends. But I’d rather fuck. I don’t know yet if I’m mainly a top or a bottom, so you guys will give me a chance to explore.”

“I can’t believe how open and easy you are with this. I did have experiences in high school, lots of them, but not serious, and I’m still nervous about it.”

“Something snapped in me when my brother was so mean to me and you were so nice. I decided that I’ve had it. College guys are horny and get laid. I’m a college guy. Why should I listen to my asshole brother when I can hang with you guys and enjoy myself?”

I started laughing. “Your logic is impeccable.”

Liam yelled into the distance, the phone away from his mouth: “I’m impeckerable.”

“I didn’t say that,” I pointed out. "But I think you should reconsider calling your brother that. I think we're the ones you should call 'asshole brothers.'"

Liam chuclled. “Pete, seriously, I don’t want you to think that I’m only after your bodies. I want to be your friend. I want to be there for you. I want to save your ass too. And then I want your bodies."

“Liam, don’t jump into the deep water right away. You don’t owe us anything.”

“Then I want to take advantage of you guys. I want to learn from you. With you.”

“Let me talk to Paul, and I’ll call you tonight or tomorrow. Do you get messages OK? In our dorm, not everybody gets all their messages. There’s one guy who walks around stoned and pulls notes off people’s doors and reads them. Do you still have the phone number Paul gave you?”

“Yup.”

“Paul has an answering machine. That is the most reliable way of getting a message to us.”

“Okay.”

“Liam?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me about Liam of the Ten Inches.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Where’s he from? I couldn’t tell by his accent.”

“He’s from a village in Wales. His mother is Irish. Welsh is his first language. English is his second. I kind of like the way he talks, like he’s singing.”

“Is he cool?”

“With what?”

“Does he know about you?”

“Oh. Yeah, he’s cool. He started calling me ‘Liam of Swan Lake’ when he found out I was taking a dance class. So I started calling him ‘Liam of the Ten Inches.’”

“And does he have ten inches?”

“I haven’t examined him in detail. I’ve only flirted with him. But if there weren’t something there, he would have called me something else, like my brother did. But he knew enough about dance to call me ‘Swan Lake,’ and that makes me wonder how much he knows about ballet and which way the wind is blowing with him. He’s not hostile. He’s friendly. When you guys come over to my dorm, I’ll introduce you. I’ll say, ‘Liam, these guys want to see your famous ten inches.’”

I liked Liam even more, talking like this. “You don’t have to be that subtle.”

We were both laughing now, partly because of the conversation, and partly because we were feeling mutual attraction, I think. We were easy with each other, all guard lowered.

I heard the door to my room open, and Paul’s voice, calling my name.

“Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Paul’s just coming in. I’ll call you. How would you feel about being gift wrapped for him?”

“I’ll tie a ribbon around my cock.”

“Let me do that.”

“Sure thing. But let me write down your contact information. Give me your phone number. Do you each have a phone?”

“Yeah. That’s how the dorms work here.”

“Okay, give me yours and then Paul’s. What’s your address? Room number?

I gave him our contact information and took his address down too.

“I’ll call you. Bye.”

“Who was that?” Paul asked me, as he finished hanging up his jacket and cleaning off his shoes.

“My secret lover,” I said. “He’s much more attractive than you.”

“You wish,” Paul said, jumping right in.

“I do. But since a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush...”

“Are you planning to get your hand tangled in my bush again?

“No. My teeth, maybe.”

“Any time.”

“Paul, I have a theoretical question for you?”

“Is that one of your SAT words?”

“Yes.” I imitated a TV announcer. “With our Acme Remedial English for College Applicants course, you too can use words like “have” and “a.”

“What’s your question?”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how attracted were you to Liam?”

“Wh...why?”

“Just answer me.”

“Uh... well...”

“You were really turned on by him, weren’t you?”

“Um...”

“It’s OK.”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of, as in you were, or sort of, as in your underwear got too tight and you were already thinking about what body parts would fit nicely where?”

“Um... yes.”

“Yes, which?”

“Yes... and yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Paul, I’m not asking you to put you on the spot. I also found Liam attractive. I was very proud of you for stepping into the situation and reaching out to him. Even if I weren’t wild about your rectum, I’d look up to you.”

“You’d look up my rectum?”

“Mebbe,” I said. Paul cracked up.

“So why do you ask?”

“That was Liam on the phone. I called him and told him you were still hard for his ass and wanted to fuck him in front of Filene’s Basement at rush hour.”

“You didn’t.

“Okay, not at rush hour.”

“What the hell did you tell him?”

“I told him that you had red hair on your mind, and that I was willing to step aside if the two of you wanted to be twooly, twooly heppy.” The last phrase was my imitation of Madeline Kahn in a Mel Brooks movie, probably “Blazing Saddles.”

“Forget it. I find him attractive, but I love you.”

“Too bad. Because I told him we both wanted to fuck him.”

“Are you serious? You said that?”

“I told him that I had no problem with your being attracted to him, and he said that he wanted to get together with both of us. He started to make noises about being grateful for what you did, and I...”

“Forget it,” Paul said. “I want to get to know him, and to have sex with him and with you, but not because he’s fucking grateful.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. And we’re going to see him in an Offenbach operetta, La Périchole.”

“Say what? When?”

“The weekend after this coming one. I wanted us to get together earlier, but he’s got all kinds of rehearsals.”

“Why are you so eager for us to get together?”

“You were fascinated by the idea of red pubic hair. I am intrigued by Liam as well. Liam clearly turns you on. I want you to have as much pleasure as I can give you.”

“Petey, you give me more pleasure than I deserve.”

“Of course I do, you pathetic piece of crap. You’re just grateful because I rearranged your intestines from the bottom up.”

“I’m crazy about you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Do you have much homework?”

“A ton.”

“Can we study together?”

“Together?”

“Not joined at the hip, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“Why does this not surprise me?”

“Because you have a filthy mind, and great minds think alike.”

“So can we study together?”

“Sure.”

“When?”

“In a few minutes.”

“Okay. Take off your pants.”

“What?”

Paul took my hand and pressed it inside the front of his pants. “I’m hot and hard for you. I want to cover your face with sperm. Quick!”

I leaned forward and nuzzled the outline of Paul’s cock in his pants.

“Open your zipper!” Paul panted.

“You open it.”

Paul pulled the front of my pants open so hard that the button went flying. In one move, he had my pants around my knees. He put one hand on my balls and started rubbing them. I was already hard, of course. Paul knelt down, plunged his mouth down on my cock, came up, stood up, and shoved his hardon into my mouth. I was only reacting to each move, not thinking clearly. But I heard a noise.

“Pwww?” I said, my mouth full of hardon. “Pwwww!”

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Pwwww! Meeh dwwww.”

“What?”

He let me up for a moment.

I was gasping for breath.

“Somebody’s knocking at the door.”

“What?”

“The door.”

Paul pulled a towel around his middle and went to the door. He opened it. He turned around, grinning.

Liam was standing there in a T-shirt. Just a white T-shirt. And he had written on it, in magic marker: “Warning! Red pubic hair may be addictive!”

“Hey, Pete, thanks for giving me the address.”

“Liam! I thought you had rehearsal.”

“Dancers get three hour break because we’ve been going since 9 AM. We have a complete run-through tonight. I’m glad there was no one in your hallway. OK, who’s first?”

“What?”

“One of you fuck me, quick!”

“Liam!” Paul said. “Are you kidding?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Liam said, as he stretched out on Paul’s bed, pressing a pillow under his stomach, his cute, trim white ass in the air. He winked his ass at each of us. “Come on, don’t think, just fuck me.”

“Pete?”

“You first, Paul.”

Paul dropped the towel and climbed aboard. His eyes were on me as he sank his hardon into Liam’s ass. Liam sighed, deeply, but his hips kept moving in circles. Paul grinned at me, never breaking eye contact as he began to fuck harder.

I got an idea. I moved behind Paul, lubed my finger with spit, and started tickling his ass-lips.

“Oh, God,” Paul moaned. His face was turned back toward me. He looked at me with such love in his eyes that my own eyes began to tear up.

Just as quickly as the mood began, it was broken. The sound of “slap-slap-slap” as Paul’s abs hit Liam’s butt was interrupted. A soft, mellow sound echoed in the room. That’s putting it kindly. The lube in Liam’s ass made the sound less harsh, but it was the unmistakeable sound of Liam farting, just a little one.

Paul looked at me, startled.

“Sorry,” Liam said. “Keep going.”

Paul started moving his hips again, but I could see he was thinking something. Suddenly, Paul burst out laughing. He tried to keep hammering Liam, but then Liam was laughing beneath him. I pressed my mouth to Paul’s, kissing him deeply as Paul tried in vain to keep fucking Liam while the two of them were by now roaring with laughter. Liam was blushing so that his face was as red as his hair.

Paul pulled out, and Liam turned over. His cock was perfectly formed, perfectly proportional. Thick, but not overwhelmingly so. Uncut. About 7 inches. It was the kind of cock that probably inspired Michelangelo. Liam pulled his foreskin down, but I saw Paul reach down and start moving Liam’s skin back and forth. I knelt down and took Liam’s balls in my mouth. Paul kept manipulating Liam’s skin, pressing Liam’s shaft against my cheek and my nose. It was so sweet, so warm.

Suddenly Liam erupted. He didn’t shoot for distance, but his spurts had great volume. He moaned loudly. Paul kept moving Liam’s foreskin, and I began to feel liquid dripping on my chin.

I moved up to Liam and kissed him on the mouth, covering his own chin with his cum. Paul moved in, and the three of us touched our tongues together as deeply as we could.

“I have to get back to rehearsal,” Liam blurted out. “I’m coming back for more, whether it’s tonight or another day. You guys are the best. I want you both in me.”

He finished pulling up his jockstrap, which he had in a bag with the other clothes that he must have removed in our hallway. The jock was different from any I’d ever seen. I asked him about it later, and he told me it was not a jock, but a dance belt. Looked like a jock to me, but what do I know?

“Say hello to the swans,” Paul said.

“No swans! La Périchole! I’m counting on you guys coming.”

“We’ll come whenever you want.”

“In that case,” Liam said at the door, “you can count on coming a lot!” He was gone.

“Paul?” I said.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

“Okay.”

His tongue scraped against my teeth and my tongue. “What’s that?” Paul said, as he pulled away from me and reached up to his mouth. “This was in your mouth.”

We both looked as Paul pulled a long, copper-red pubic hair out of his mouth, now.

“More where that came from,” I said.
 
Oh to be back in college. However, I'd probably flunk all my subjects if I were as horny as our two (possible three or four) lovers. Awesome story, comeagain.

Craiger
 
(!w!)

Gotta LOVE Liam!! (!) :gaysex: :wave:

Totally diggin' your story, Pete! (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss:(*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
Tenting Tonight, chapter 8

After our first evening with Liam, I hoped that there would be many more. There were.

I cannot think of Liam without thinking of him as the perfection of youth. His tight, muscular body, alabaster white, with the bright red pubes. The perfection of his cock, with its long, flexible foreskin. The white marble of his hardon, with purple tones where a vein ran. The hardon itself, like marble (I’m repeating myself, but so would you!), like glass. The light pink of his huge nipples, resting on his muscular chest and abs. The red hair of his armpits that I loved to tongue. The taste his foreskin left on my tongue when I would dig my tongue underneath and pleasure him that way. The scent of the aftershave he used. Even now, a hint of that aftershave in the air, whether in the street or in line at the post office or in the bank or in the subway drives me up a wall with desire. I have to stop, look around, and subtly rearrange myself in my pants. My eyes look for him, but he is not there.

What I would not give for another hour with Liam. Burying myself in his insatiable ass. Feeling his tongue in mine, followed by that glass-hard cock. Paul, his tongue in Liam’s navel. Liam sniffing Paul’s pubes and tonguing one cock and then another, Paul’s and mine. Paul’s cock, alongside mine, probing within Liam. Liam and Paul, within me. Liam and I, within Paul. Every combination we could think of, we tried. And mastered. And savored.

These memories are among the sweetest of my life.

Sweet, sweet Liam, who brings me to tears when I think of him. Liam of Swan Lake. And his friend, Liam of the Ten Inches. You haven’t met him yet, but you will. You’ll enjoy Liam of the Ten Inches. Paul and I did.

Isn’t it funny that there are so many names in the world, and yet sometimes your friends and loves share the same name? If I were writing fiction, I would simply change the names and make things clearer. Why have two Pauls, two Liams? The answer is that you can change the names of friends that come into this story peripherally, but where the confusion of names is part of what happened to us, where playing on the names made our conversation wittier and made us laugh, I don’t want to change the names.

Is it confusing, reader? Life is confusing. Why is there evil in the world? Disease? Hunger? Republicans?

Oh, don’t get me started. If you’re a Republican, a conservative, economic or otherwise, and this offends you, good. I don’t care if you don’t like my politics. I don’t like yours. People are too often polite instead of forthright. People think that saying, “I personally believe” excuses them from having to justify believing half-truths, or untruths, or outright lies. The liberal tradition is what informed the work of Adams (John and Abigail!) and Jefferson, Franklin and Madison (James and Dolley!), Webster and J.Q. Adams, and Lincoln. If I sound bitter, you’ll see why. Read, and learn. Or call me names and demonize me, as so many of you so-called conservatives are wont to do. What passes for genuine conservatism today, or what goes by the name of libertarianism, is simply greed. Naked, mindless, greed, that poses as storied idealism while rapidly negating the social contract on which all our rights depend, whether you are straight, bi, or gay; Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, or Jewish; male or female.

OK, end of this little excursus. But I have my eyes on you.

Back to hardons and pleasure and the world I remember, the world of Paul and Liam, and Paul the waiter.

We did go to see Liam in La Périchole, and it was a good show. The voices were good, and they had translated it into English. There were quite a few gay guys in the cast, as we discovered when we went to a cast party with Liam.

By the way, Paul continued to call Liam “Lingam.” It was his nickname for Liam, and Liam, who was the horniest man I ever met, let alone fucked, loved it.

We spent as much time as we could with Liam. We visited him and he us, but since we had our own dorm room, it was most convenient for Liam to join us. It took some doing, but we got a key for him for both the front door and our door. It guaranteed that sometimes we’d come home and find him stretched out, studying, while lubed and ready. Or if he felt like topping, he’d be his back, a book on his chest, and his hand just easily playing with his foreskin.

Paul and I both were intrigued by Liam’s foreskin. Neither of us had ever handled an uncut guy before. It’s strange that I hadn’t, because there were uncut guys in my home town near Philadelphia. But somehow, I hadn’t. We used to spend hours exploring Liam’s foreskin, licking it, covering out tongues with it, gently manipulating it, jerking Liam off with it. We got very good at foreskin play.

Pretty soon, within weeks, it became clear that although Paul and I were a couple, Liam was just as much a part of our relationship as either of us. We had adopted him, and we both fell in love with him. If either of us was in a bad mood, if either of us was down at all, it took only a flash of that red hair in the doorway to get us smiling. Liam was a ray of sunshine. You couldn’t be depressed with him around. By the end of the first month of our relationship, we were having sex virtually every night. Liam slept at hour dorm so often that people began to commiserate with us for being stuck with a triple in a room that was a double.

Occasionally, when he had access to a private room, we’d visit Liam at his school and play around in his dorm. That was how we got to know Liam of the Ten Inches, or rather I did, though this chapter tells about the first time we met him, which took place in our dorm room, Paul's and mine.

Paul decided that although his relationship with Darice was over, he had to be there for her when her baby was born. At Christmastime, he flew out to Oregon, and I took the train to Philadelphia. Liam stayed in Boston, rehearsing for yet another play. He took dance class every morning, come hell or high water. He spent the day studying, reading, talking to friends, having sex with us, and then he had either rehearsal in the evenings or performances. He also had an insatiable appetite for life, that boy.

Liam knew that I was nervous about Paul going home and spending time with Darice. I trusted Paul completely, and he never betrayed my trust, ever. When we had problems later, they were never about lack of love or lack of trust. But at this stage, knowing that Paul was flying cross country to be with a girl who might be the mother of his child made me nervous. Paul knew that. He and I discussed it. He himself told Liam to take care of me, and Liam, in his unbuttoned way, went right at it. I came back to the dorm room the day after Paul left for Oregon, a day before I was headed to Philadelphia, and there was Liam, lying on his stomach, nude, his ass propped up, but with a Little Orphan Annie style caption that he printed on cardboard and cut out, sticking up out of his ass. It said, “Hole is where the heart is.” Tasteless, I know. Not funny, I know. I cracked up and fucked him for hours.

As little experience as Liam said he had, and we believed him, he was a natural when it came to sex. He knew instinctively when to flex what muscle so that he’d push you over the edge. He’s use every tool at his command. If you weren’t as excited as he was about you topping him, he’d flip you over and fuck you instead. His spontaneity made for a great sex life, but beyond that, he was just plain fun.

Liam was also a very intelligent guy. I sat on some rehearsals of a play he directed a year or two after we met, and his analysis of the material for the actors was brilliant. He could charm the pants off his actors (and occasionally did). If I sat next to him at a rehearsal, he’d keep up several running monologues. One was to the actors, directing them, reminding them, persuading them, cajoling them, threatening them... he almost always got what he wanted out of actors (I don’t mean sex, in this case).
At the same time, he’s be telling me intimate details of the actors’ lives, their sex lives, their bodies... he seemed to know everything about every actor who worked for him onstage.

We started out somehow with the impression that Liam was younger than the two of us, because he looked so young and vulnerable when we met him, the night his brother was so nasty, the first night we went to Lindoro’s. The truth is, he was the oldest one of us three. But he was so youthful a spirit that we always talked about how young and inexperienced he was. Paul would talk to him about things, and Liam would play the innocent... Or the two of them would do their Kung Fu routine, with Liam referring to himself as “grasshopper,” and to Paul as “master.”

Sometimes this could get ironic. One night, I came back from an evening class to find Liam lying on top of Paul, slowly fucking him while reciting speeches of Shakespeare that he was learning. “To be (hips thrust) or not to be (pull it out).” (The stage directions were acted out, not recited, though in a porn Hamlet it might be funny. Paul was bottoming for Liam while studying for a biochem exam. And while this was going on, Liam would all of a sudden stop fucking and say, “Grasshopper enjoying Master’s lower passage. Grasshopper will try not to create another tai-fun!” (Whenever Grasshopper referred to “tai-fun,” it was code for “Remember the night I farted while you were fucking me?” - a memory that never failed to put Paul into stitches.

In fact, for guys that were in love with each other and not afraid to say so, we laughed a huge amount, but never meanly. There wasn’t a mean bone in Liam’s body, and Paul was the same. But laughter was key to our relationship. Liam, who created characters the way Robin Williams does, would create these zany identities with even zanier professions. He would entertain us by weaving a new tale every time, acting out the parts himself. Somehow they would always end with sex. Hercules would find a red-haired lad attractive and fuck him. A red-haired Napoleon would conquer half of Europe while sending obscene messages home to Joseph. In Liam’s stories, Josephine became Joseph, just as Romeo fell in love with Julius, Benedick fell for Beatrick, and Paris carried Allen off to Troy.

One evening, Liam showed up at our dorm room with a surprise. He had brought along Liam of the Ten Inches. I kind of wondered what went through Liam10 (as we soon dubbed him) thought when tall, tall Paul answered the door starkers. Of course, Paul knew Liam was on his way up because Liam had called 10 minutes earlier from a phone booth. Somehow, he neglected to mention that he had a guest in tow. I was studying. Paul pulled off his underwear and knelt in front of the door to our room. Liam opened the door with his key, and Paul dove for his ankles, while singing, “I wanna lick my Lingam, my Lingam’s at the door.” One of our spontaneous tunes that never made the charts.

Paul did eventually show us how he COULD lick his lingam, but that’s another story. In this story, he was talking about Liam the Red, but the ankles turned out to be Liam10. Paul looked up, a bit startled. There was a smiling lad with black hair tousled with large, black locks, and with hazel eyes that seemed to change with the environment. We used to call them Liam10’s “chameleon eyes.”

Paul let go of the ankles, stood up, and asked Liam the Red, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Grasshopper has brought his friend Liam of the 10 inches, Master. Grasshopper begs Master to accept the 10 inches as a gift.”

Paul played along, as Liam10 looked amused. “Does Grasshopper offer all 10 inches now? Does Honorable Guest agree?”

“I have told Honorable Guest that Master is most worthy of my attentions. And Master Pete as well. Honorable Guest begged leave to meet my two masters.”

“Does Honorable Guest know that you placed Long Red in Master’s nether regions and made much noise last night, until Clouds and Rain came?”

“Grasshopper hoped not to tell, but to show.”

“Master is sore.”

Our Liam, without batting an eye, turned to Liam10 and said, in a stage whisper, “Master informs me that a spell has been cast upon him, and until he recovers, he must pretend to be a Norse god.”

“Are you Pete?” Liam10 said, coming over and shaking my hand. “What the hell is going on?”

“Your friend Liam of Swan Lake is beginning his usual evening mad scene. But I can translate. Paul is sore from something Liam did last night while lying on Paul’s back. Liam heard him say he was sore and introduced him to you as ‘Thor.’ Just wait. It gets better as he goes off on a jag.”

“Tho, Thor,” said Liam the Red. “wathyer thymptomth? I mutht know yer thymptomth to cure yer curth! Perhapth an injecthion to thtart! Petey, athitht me!”

“Petey has thtudying to do,” I told Liam. “But I can think of 10 reathonth why your thtraight boy Liam might thubthtitute.”

“You, thtraight boy!” Liam the Red addressed Liam10. “I have need of your 10 Incheth of Wonder. Get them thtraight, or I will have to do tho.”

“Pete, can you translate?”

“Liam says you should pull out your cock and get it hard. He’s very big on folk medicine.”

“O thou of thmall penith and thmaller faith!” Our Liam was in full flight now. “What know I of folk medithine? I know only fuck medithine!”

Liam10 looked at me, helpless.

“He says that fucking is a good remedy for what ails you.”

Liam10 was smiling, and I was focusing on how his turned up nose complemented the luxurious, black lashes above and below his eyes.

“Do you guys always carry on like this?” Liam10 asked me.

“This is nothing,” I said. “Your friend Liam picks up a joke and makes a play around it, with a guy named Liam always playing the lead.”

“Pole,” said our Liam to my roommate. “I want you, Pole.”

“Does Grasshopper seek my help?”

“Grasshopper seeks your pole,” said our Liam, as he stepped out of his clothing, leaving him in only his dance belt. “Submit it for internal examination.”

“Does Grasshopper intend that Honorable Guest should be witness?”

Liam10 looked at me, helpless still.

“I think they’re planning to fuck about now. If it bothers you, I can take you for a walk or something.”

“It’s not exactly what I’m used to, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve lived on the same hall with Liam since September. He’s not exactly modest.”

I snorted and laughed. “Modest? He’s like living gay pornography.”

“He certainly has taught our whole hallway a thing or two.”

“So are you OK with the whole gay scene?”

“Honorable guetht ith a thtrapping, handthome homo thapienth. He needth our withdom to blothom and grow his fairy wings.”

Liam10 kept looking at me for translation, and I kept thinking how I wanted to rub my nose against his while my tongue explored his mouth. I loved the music of his voice and the rhythms he found in normal speech. “He says you might be gay and he wants to educate you.”

“I don’t know about that, “ Liam10 said. “Swanee here thinks every guy is gay, that guys who date women are just in training for the big event with other guys. He plays a character in our dorm he calls ‘The Right Reverend Doctor Wrong,’ a defrocked priest or an atheist minister, as far as I can tell.”

I couldn’t let that pass. “Swanee?!! Swanee!”

“Theath thy vain bibble-babble and enthircle me with my sheath!”

“His sheath?”

“He wants me to put a condom on him.”

“Ewww. You do that for him?”

“With my hand, not with my mouth as wants. Not in front of guests.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“I love playing with Liam’s foreskin. if you’re curious.”

Liam10 looked at Liam the Red, who was playing with my Paul’s balls. He looked down, and when he came back up, he commented, “Jeez, his skin is a lot looser than mine.”

Liam the Red heard him. “That ith becauth I have theeth brave fairies to thretch me out.”

I turned to Liam10. “Let’s find you a bed for the night. This could go on all evening, when our Liam gets started.”

“I notice you call him ‘Our Liam.’”

“Sometimes.” I said. “Listen, you can bunk with me, or I can put blankets and a pillow on the couch. I have an exam in the morning, and I have to go back to studying.”

Liam10 looked at me. “Are you OK with a guy who’s not gay sleeping with you?”

“If you were gay, we wouldn’t be sleeping.”

Liam10 grinned at me. He glanced over at Paul and Liam the Red, who were making out and playing with each other on Paul’s bed. I watched him carefully. When I turned to grab him a towel, I saw Liam10 adjust his cock in his pants. “Interesting,” I said to myself, filing this away for analysis later.

“What is going through this guy’s mind?” I said to myself, looking at Liam10.

Our Liam raised his head and beckoned me. “Take good care of my buddy.” Our Liam began to hum as he went down on Paul. I listened for a moment and then started chuckling at our Liam’s choice of music.

It was an old English folk-song: “I Gave My Love a Cherry.”

“What’s he singing?” Liam10 asked.

I just grinned and reached for the light switch.
 
:rotflmao: Indeed, PRICELESS!! (!) (!w!)

And, yes, quite Precious! (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss:(*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
I'm already envious of you having such fun and innovative roommates/lovers. Most of mine were rather down-to-earth compared to yours...lol Now, as Benderboy said, we need to hear more about "Liam of 10 inches."

Craiger
 
Tenting Tonight, chapter 9

You would probably be most pleased to hear that Liam of the 10 Inches and I made passionate love all night, that he fucked me and I fucked him, and that Paul and Liam the Red watched, made rude comments, and we chased them off by shooting sperm jets at them.

It didn’t happen that way.

I was going to study (and as my grade on that exam proved, I should have), but when I heard our Liam humming “I Gave My Love a Cherry,” I couldn’t resist getting into bed and shutting off the light. We lay there, a bit nervous. Liam10 all the way on one side of the bed, I on the other. I was very conscious of his body near mine. I liked his slim, compact build, the contrast of his light skin with his very black hair. I liked the large black locks of hair. He reminded me slightly of an actor I’d seen in a movie called “Summer Lovers,” Peter Gallagher, who instantly turned me on. Over the years since, I’ve seen Gallagher in many movies, and he’s aged pretty well - and he still turns me on. So would Liam10!

Neither of us said a word about the noises coming from the other bed. Liam the Red was moaning in a way that told me that Paul was certainly entering him. Our Liam made one set of noises when fucking and another when getting fucked, and these were his getting fucked noises. He was a turn-on to fuck, Paul and I found, because you got instant bio-feedback from the noises he made. They weren’t the result of a conscious decision; I think they were more instinctual. He could no more have sex noiselessly than to dance without breathing.

When you fucked Liam the Red, if he was on his stomach and you were behind him, you saw those milky white half-globes parted to receive your cock, and his lithe upper body would move both in an undulating way and also side to side, so that he would rub his shoulder blades against your nipples. He also liked to be fucked face to face, with his legs parted and his hips thrust forward to give you purchase (and a better angle). I used to enjoy playing with his foreskin when were in that position, because I knew it would turn him on. One of the great things about the threeway union among Paul, Liam and me was the way we enjoyed the pleasures we could give each other. Sex and affection for us were about giving pleasure more than taking pleasure. The best orgasms were the ones where we first made our partners come. Of course, that made for some competition in pleasuring. And we always had to compete with Liam’s raucous sense of humor, which could have us in stitches without warning, in the middle of fucking. Similarly, we used Paul’s ticklishness creatively. Some would have seen it as a weakness; we saw it as a feature to be employed for our mutual pleasure.

Which left me, on the evening I’m writing about, listening to my two lovers making love without me, while Liam10 lay nearby, also listening. I was hard as soon as I heard the unmistakeable sounds from the other bed. I didn’t know whether Liam10 was too, but I suspected he was, given what I had seen him do just before we got into bed, when he adjusted himself in his pants.

So did I want to try to start something with him, or not? I did. Did I want to take advantage of him? Not really. Did I like the idea of making it with a straight guy? Of course, but that was because I had made it with a long string of straight guys in high school, and I knew that straight guys who weren’t hung up could simply take their place on Kinsey’s continuum and join the fun. Your body sends you the signals that something feels good or that something doesn’t feel good. Your mind tells you if you are about to cross a boundary into the forbidden or the unknown, and you have to decide whether to do it or not. So did I want to follow the dictates of my dick (I prefer “cock,” but that’s a matter of taste, and “dick” sounds better after “dictates, doesn’t it?)? Or my mind, that was saying, “This guy has the brakes on already. Be careful; he matters to our Liam.”

I decided to go into reactive mode and let Liam10 determine how to proceed. We both lay there, listening in the dark. It was similar to experiences I’ve had in hotel rooms, occasionally, especially in the small hotels in Amsterdam along Raadhuisstraat, where you can find great, inexpensive accommodations in the small hotels that line the arcade on the south side of the street between the Herengracht and the Keizersgracht. (There are a number of gay-owned or gay-friendly hotels there, and they are among the best travel bargains in Holland, or for that matter, anywhere.) The rooms tend to be small, because the row of houses was not built as hotel property, but only small by American standards, where people expect hotel rooms to have enough acreage to merit a zip code. The walls partitioning the rooms off are somewhat thin, and I’ve sometimes listened, amused, to the lovemaking of other guests. Sometimes, it was a real turn-on, good fodder for jerking off. If I wasn’t alone, it was a living soundtrack to what I was doing as well.

In this case, I think the noises put more pressure on Liam10 because he was in perhaps intrigued, perhaps attracted, certainly mesmerized by our Liam (who wouldn’t be?), and because he was at an age, as a recent movie said, where he would get hard by looking at a lung wrench. The sound of a friend of his moaning about how much pleasure he was getting from Paul’s fucking him had to provoke some curiosity unless Liam10 was completely turned off by gay sex, and I think we had established that he was not turned off, or he would not have hung around with our Liam. Because we were both under the top sheet and a thin coverlet, I could feel any change in the tight fit of the sheet, and I felt the sheet moving slightly. I couldn’t very well stare right at him if I was trying to be subtle, so I tried to visualize what was going on based on the tugs I felt on the sheet. I felt, or sensed, Liam10 repositioning his feet. He was lying on his back, to my left. I was lying on my back, and so we could look up at the same ceiling. I had fluffed my pillows up so that I had the advantage of slightly higher elevation for any attempt to reconnoiter.

I felt, and then I saw, in peripheral vision, Liam10 slip his hand to his crotch. But guys do that all the time; he could just be scratching himself. I thought about his background; if he was Welsh, he was most likely uncut, which I thought was very attractive. I tried to guess what his cock might be like from the look of his hands, of his nose, of his features generally. He had fine features, a cute, turned-up pug nose, and those brilliant, blue eyes. I fixated on his nose and imagined kissing him across the bridge of his nose before kissing him on the lips. That’s another turn-on for me; part of assessing a guy’s attractiveness for me is looking at his nose. Don’t ask me why. Some guys like feet, some guys like legs, I always look at a guy’s fingers, his nose, and his eyes. I can recall guys I wanted to suck off (or did) just because I liked the look of a guy’s nose. Nothing kinky. I wouldn’t try to insert my cock in a guy’s nostril, or even push a metal probe into his nostril, the way some guys who are “sounders” do with their cocks.

Back to reality. Liam10’s hand was moving a little. Was he scratching? Feeling himself? Stroking himself? No data yet. But this was going to be fun. I found myself holding my breath, trying not to move or make any sound that could unnerve Liam10. I wanted to be a secret witness to his desire. But was it really desire? Or was it just the normal reaction of a college age guy who can hear others making love? Was he closeted? Or was he playing a game? I wished that I knew him better. I did know that I was more than willing to teach him, or suck him, or fuck him, or be sucked or fucked by him.

Liam10 stirred and turned onto his side. I heard him sigh a few times, and I hoped he wasn’t having a stealth orgasm like I used to have when I was trying to jerk off but not be observed as a kid at camp.
A moment later, he sat up on the side of the bed and then stood and went out the door to the bathroom.

“Liam?” I said to our Liam. “I need to talk to you, quick.”

“Mmmm,” I heard back. His mouth was full.

“What is it?” Paul said. “Our Liam’s busy.”

“I’ll bet,” I said. “I need to know about Liam10. I’m going nuts here. Is he interested or not?”

Our Liam answered, “I don’t know. I brought him over because I’ve been trying to figure him out. He’s not hostile to the idea, but I haven’t been able to draw him out. I figured you guys might have better luck, or there might be better luck in numbers. Plus, he was interested in meeting you guys because he’s heard me tell stories about you.”

“What,” Paul said, “are we characters in an ongoing sex story that you’re telling your friends?”

“Shut up. You’re a classic superhero anyway. ‘Tall Man.’”

“And my power is...?”

“You have the power to make me your bottom.”

“Oh, me and the standing army!”

“Thanks a lot, guys! Glad to know you respect me in the morning!”

“We not only respect you, we both love you.”

“You love my ass!”

“Among other things.”

“Guys, watch it, he’ll be back any minute,” I said, “what do I do?”

“Just play it by ear. Monkey see, monkey do,” Paul said, as the door to the room began to open.

Liam10 came back into an apparently silent room. He coughed, he stubbed his toe finding the bed, and then he lay back down next to me. I was holding my breathing back, trying to breathe the slow, even breaths of sleep. It was hard after a few minutes, and it wasn’t the only thing that was hard. My cock was hard as a rock.

I heard a rustling sound in the covers. Liam10 seemed to be moving. I thought he was a little closer, but then I thought it was my imagination. I seemed to see him inching toward me in the bed, but I didn’t trust my own perception not to be influenced by my hard cock.

Gradually, my hardon went down. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. I thought I was beginning to doze, when I felt a definite movement in the bed. I could feel something warm near my side. Only warmth, no touching. I wondered where this was headed. I was lying on my back, mostly, but I was propped at an angle, with a body-length bolster alongside me. I had taken care that it was not between Liam10 and me, but on my other side. I kind of had to wrap it around me to make sure that I could lean against it but still not be covered by it.

I heard another movement in the bed. And then I felt something touch the outside of my underwear. And then a whisper, “Pete? Pete?”

I didn’t reply. My heart was pounding very loud. “Pete?” I kept silent.
A hand, Liam10’s hand, moved up and down the bulge in my underwear. His hand cupped my balls and moved gently along my cock. He found the ridge of my cock-head, and he slid his finger along it, feeling it. I was sure he would know that I was awake. I was trying to breathe as if I were asleep, but I couldn’t hold my heavy breathing in without great difficulty.

The hand withdrew. I let myself sigh and turned a few degrees, gently. “Pete?” I didn’t answer. The hand returned, feeling its way on my underwear. There was no skin contact, except when the hand around my balls happened to stray a little and touched my thighs.

Suddenly, I was struck with an unbearable need to sneeze. I tried to control it, but it was teasing me. I gasped a little, I held it back, and then I gasped again, and then there was no controlling it. I sneezed. The hand on my cock froze. It didn’t withdraw. It froze. I reached over and being deliberately clumsy, I knocked the box of tissues on my night stand off. I reached down for a tissue, making noise. As I did so, the hand on my crotch vanished. A moment later, I yawned, stretched as if awakening, and I sat up, pulled myself to the side of the bed, yawned again, and then stood up and walked toward the door.

“Pete?” I heard the soft question from my bed. “Unhhhh” I said, and I left for the bathroom. In the bathroom, I locked myself in a stall and started to think. What did he mean? I didn’t want to discourage him if he was exploring his sexuality. I didn’t want to go on pretending nothing was happening. But I didn’t want to scare him off. All this went around in my brain as I kept my eyes shut against the harsh fluorescent lighting in the bathroom. Finally, I decided to go back and try again to get some sleep.

When I got back to the room, my bed was empty. Liam10 had left. “Guys?” I said. “Just me,” Paul said. “Liam10 woke our Liam up and they left. I didn’t want to let on that I knew anything, and neither did our Liam, so I pretended to be asleep and I heard Liam10 tell our Liam that he wanted to go back to the dorm, by cab if they had missed the last T. And they left in a hurry.

“Fuck!” I said.

“Get some sleep,” Paul said. “You have an exam in the morning.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I said.
 
Ok, guys. This must be cliffhanger night. I get all ready for action and - wham - I have to wait for another chapter....lol This is so hot and I could just kick myself for not producing similar events in my college dorm. Not that there was non-activity, but certainly not as hot as Pete, Paul and two Lingam's...

Craiger
 
This just goes to show what most young guys are unsure/tentative/afraid to do when 'opportunity' presents itself. I can recall too many similar 'opportunities' slipping by me, and disappearing into the recesses of Time. ](*,)

And, with Pete's experience, I'm rather surprised that went the way it did/didn't, especially with Those signals. #-o

SO ... To all you Young Dudes 'out there', when something like this arises, cast aside the Doubt and "Carpe Diem"! (!) (!w!)

Or ... in this case ... "Carpe Liam"!! *|* :bj:

(O.K.! I know ... :slap: )

I have a 'sneaky' feeling that this is not the last we'll hear of Liam10, though. :badgrin: (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss:(*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
Oh, I was terminally shy, and mostly, I still am. I was too innocent (apart from having had contact with a lot of guys in the limited universe of high school) to recognize adult come-ons when they happened. One in particular still haunts me because it was a guy I had a terrible crush on, and I never understood until years later that he wanted what I wanted. Each of us was too inhibited or too innocent to do anything. Then.
 
I know Exactly what you mean! #-o

There were several distinct 'opportunities' that I was presented with, and craving for, but given what the times were then, with that little grain of doubt, even though the 'signs' were "blatantly obvious", my concerns (for Him AND Me), held me in check. AND, it wasn't just My uncertainty/shyness, but His (theirs), also. ](*,)

I say "blatant" NOW. But, THEN, neither of us were SURE, or at least letting each other KNOW "For SURE"! It was all so 'tentative'. :help:

Had I known THEN, what I Know NOW, my history would be quite different. And, quite likely, my current Life would not be what it is. Nor, I suppose, theirs either. Whether that is 'good', or not, is something that I'll never know for sure. However, it's certainly interesting to think back, and wonder ... (group)

I'm certainly, and eagerly, looking forward to more of Your story! ..|

And, of course ... no matter what ...

Keep smilin'!! :kiss:(*8*)
Chaz :luv:

(Yep! I do like The Smilies! :lol: )
 
Tenting Tonight, chapter 10

I didn’t sleep well, and I didn’t do well on my exam the next morning. It wasn’t critical, but I don’t like to let my sex life interfere with my academic life.

I phoned our Liam to see how things had gone, but he wasn’t at his dorm. I was very careful about what message to leave, because I didn’t know if Liam10 would be able to see any message I left for our Liam. Finally I decided to use our Liam’s code: “Rock master need ear of Grasshopper.” When I got back to my dorm late that afternoon, there were no messages for Paul or for me on Paul’s machine. Something was up. It wasn’t like our Liam not to be in touch. All kinds of fears crowded my brain. Liam10 had freaked at the possibility of discovery. Liam10 had killed both our Liam and himself. Liam10 and our Liam were in bed, fucking each other’s brains out. The Liams had been in a car crash.

When Paul got back, I kind of raved to him, and he calmed me down. Then the phone rang. Paul answered, and I heard only his side of the conversation. “When? How did... No. Then who... Where? Is she...? No, I don’t think so. Not unless it’s necessary.”

Paul hung up, his face ashen. “That was my dad. Darice fell, and they had to deliver the baby prematurely. The baby is in critical condition, and so is Darice. She lost a lot of blood before she got to the hospital. They had to give each of them a transfusion, and when they did blood typing, they found something strange in the baby’s blood. They’re checking it out, and they’re doing the blood test for paternity. (I should explain for those who are accustomed to DNA testing that before the widespread availability of DNA testing in the last decades of the 20th century, other, less advanced tests and less accurate methods were used to determine paternity.)

Paul was worried, I know, that he might be the father of the child. Or that even if he wasn’t the father, he might be named and then have to disprove paternity, which would be awkward. And if he wasn’t the father, then his friend, Darice’s brother Tommy might be. This was shunting his consciousness back into his world before he and I and Liam had become lovers.

I didn’t know what Paul’s parents thought about his involvement with Darice, or whether he had told them he might not be the father. We had decided that Paul should wait until this whole business was resolved before telling them about us, and about Paul’s discovery of his orientation. He was pretty sure that they would be OK with his being gay, but he was also concerned that if he was thought to be the father of Darice’s baby, his father’s position as a pastor might be threatened.

Paul needed a hug, and we held each other. I could tell he was nervous. So was I. We didn’t know what had happened to the Liams. I didn’t know if Paul was going to have to go to Oregon to deal with the situation with the baby.

A couple of hours passed. We had been planning to go to Lindoro’s, but I phoned Paul the waiter to tell him that we couldn’t make it. He was amazing. He said that he was sending dinner for us, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Half an hour later, a spread arrived that could have fed five people. This time Paul phoned Paul the waiter to thank him, and my Paul was deeply moved by something Paul the waiter had said to him. When he got off the phone, I asked him what it was, and he said that Paul had told him that Albert and he had talked the situation over, and if Paul needed help or financial support, they would offer it. And we hadn’t even meet Albert face to face yet!

Neither Paul nor I was in a mood to study, and we lay down on Paul’s bed, without the light on, and we simply cuddled. Just before midnight, we heard a key in the door, and our Liam came in. Paul got up. “Lingam,” he said, “where were you?”

“I had to calm Liam10 down,” our Liam answered. “He freaked when he realized that you knew he had been feeling you up. He said he felt like a rapist, and he was so embarrassed he wanted to get out of here. I told him that if anything, you would be turned on by him. He said that he had never lost control of himself like that, that he didn’t know what got into him. I asked him what exactly he was feeling, and he launched into a long confession of every feeling he had. I didn’t want to leave him alone. He’s pretty upset.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“In our infirmary,” Liam answered. “He was having stomach cramps, from nerves, I’m sure, but they’re better equipped to deal with that than I am. I wasn’t planning to stay over here tonight, but to tell you the truth, I’m exhausted.”

We moved the beds together, and Liam crawled in between the two of us. We all held each other, rubbing backs, caressing, but not being overtly sexual. We comforted each other. Liam eventually got hungry, and we showed him the leftovers of the meal Paul the waiter had sent us. Liam ate a hearty dinner from it, and when he had finished, he crawled back between us and said, “Remind me to let Paul the waiter fuck me.”

"Like anybody would have to remind you to let guys fuck you, Grasshopper!” Paul said.

“Hey, I don’t offer my ass to everyone.”

It was my turn to answer. “There must be a few guys in the Gobi Desert, or maybe the Kalahari, that haven’t had that offer. Between you and McDonald’s, you’ve served over 60 billion.”

“I know two guys who are not going to get that offer tonight, if this conversation continues like this,” Liam said.

There was a knock at the door. It was our RA. “Is your friend Liam visting you? There’s a call for him on the dorm office line.” Liam was out the door with him in a flash. Five minutes later, he was back. “Gotta go,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.

“The nurse thought Liam was asleep, but when she came back to do vital signs, she found him lying on his bed, on top of the blanket, with a bottle of pills next to him. He must have gotten into a storage cabinet.”

“What kind of pills?”

“Seconal. They only use them prior to surgical procedures. The infirmary says they keep one bottle of it, just one, on hand for when they have to send a student to the hospital for emergency surgery. they’re pumping Liam’s stomach right now. I have to get over there.”

“But you need to get some sleep.”

I pulled my shoes on. “Paul, you better stay here in case there’s a call for you from Oregon. I’ll call you as soon as I can. Don’t worry about me.”

Liam and I left for his school. On the way, in the cab, Liam was worrying a lot. “Even if Liam is OK, I don’t know if he’ll be able to stay in the US now. I don’t know if something like this affects his visa status.”

“One thing at a time, Lingam.”

Liam looked startled at my use of Paul’s pet name for him. I hadn’t called him that before. To this day, I don’t know why I called him “Lingam.”

“Pete, you can’t let Liam10 see you. He might freak out.”

“Understood. I’m here to support you. You’re the one I love. The other Liam is stil an acquaintance. I don’t wish him any harm, and I want the best for him, but I don’t want to butt in.”

“Pete, I’m OK. The infirmary may not even let you in, since you’re not a registered student. Don’t be offended. I’m glad you came with me. It gave me a chance to clear my mind and think straight. Go back to your dorm. Take care of Paul. I’ll call you.”

“If that’s what you want, OK. But don’t forget to call us. We were worried about you.”

“I know that.” Liam kissed me on the forehead, then on the lips. “Go,” he said. “Good night.”

With some misgivings, I took a cab back to my dorm. Paul was there, sitting and staring at the phone. “How’s Liam10?” he asked me.

“I don’t know,” I said. Our Liam sent me back to stay with you. He really loves you.”

“And you.”

“Me, I’m not as sure right now. He cares about me. He enjoys me. He loves you.”

“He can’t have me if he doesn’t love you.”

“Don’t say that.”

We cuddled that night in my bed. In the morning, I woke Paul up by taking his hardon in my mouth and massaging him to a nice, brisk orgasm. I behaved myself. No tickling. No shoving of a finger in his ass. Just a straightforward blow job. Quick, efficient, and got the job done.

We went to classes but checked the answering machine every chance we got for messages from Paul’s family or from Liam. The next evening there was a message from Liam. “Machine send pigeon to Grasshopper’s master. Both his Lingams well. Red lingam take black lingam from sick hut to sleep hut. When possible, red lingam want to give Solid Rock good ride, his choice, up or down. Not stop until clouds and rain twice, plus in face.”

That made me feel better. But what had happened with Liam10?

The next afternoon after that, now more than 3 days since Liam10 had bolted, our Liam called again.

“How are you, lover?” I asked him.

“I meant what I said in my message.”

“You are sweet.”

“How’s Paul?”

I told him that Paul had taken the T into town to see Paul the waiter and thank him personally. I was going to try to meet him at Lindoro’s that night. Liam asked if he could join us. I said we’d be delighted.

He told me also that Liam10 was still kind of shaky. “He was pretty straight-laced, you know. And he’s concerned about what happens at home. He doesn’t want to get so deeply into gay life here that he’ll be tortured when he goes home to Wales. He’s afraid of coming out of the closet, and then of having to go back in. Plus he’s not ready to say that he doesn’t like girls. He does like girls.”

“So he’s bisexual.”

“Can’t tell you. I offered him lessons. He laughed but said no. I offered him my ass. He said he’d take me up on that one of these days.”

“Your ass does travel in fine circles.”

“Last time you visited my ass, you seemed to like those circles.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Meet us at Lindoro’s?”

“I have to see what’s with Junior Lingam.” (We were still trying on nicknames for Liam10, and we weren’t ready to commit to one until we were sure he’d be around. Meaning, he would still be part of our lives.)

“Junior Lingam. I like that.”

“Good, because he has a major hardon for you.”

“Does he? He said that?”

“He didn’t have to. You should see what he’s like when he taks about you. He ejaculates rays of desire.”

“Liam?”

“Yes?”

“I want you to know something. I know you care about me and that you love Paul. And that’s OK with me. I still love you.”

“Good, because this is a three-way relationship. I admit that I was drawn first to Paul because he stood up for me, but your name, Solid Rock, is a good one for you, and I admire you for it. And I enjoy the time I spend with you almost as much as I enjoy time with Paul. I don’t love you less because I love him so much.”

“I know that.”

“So when you’re ready, your choice, top or bottom.”

“You are incorrigible, and I love you for it. Plus I lust for you. I filled out a coupon form to win dinner for 2 at the Ritz, and under favorite dish, I wrote “red hair.”

Liam chuckled. “Eat me?” he asked. We both started laughing.
We agreed to meet at Lindoro’s in two hours. I showered, packed a change of clothing for Paul and one for me, and I set out. When I got off the T, almost an hour later, I saw a familiar, handsome, red-haired figure rushing at me, followed by a serious young man with black hair. Our Liam had brought Liam10!

I greeted the two of them, making sure that I was solicitous but not patronizing to Liam10. I was surprised they had let him out so soon after he had attempted suicide. Without mentioning the reason he had been in the infirmary, I asked him when he was released.

Still not smiling, but looking at me intently, he said quietly that Liam the Swan Lake had talked them into it.

“He is charming, I must say that,” I said, looking at the figure almost dancing down the street in front of us.”

“Charming? He could charm the pants off...” Liam10 looked startled by his own choice of words.

“You?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Liam10 answered. “But I have to confess something to you.”

“No, you don’t, Liam,” I said to him, stopping and looking him in the eye. “If we’re going to be friends, and I hope we are, then you don’t have to explain anything. And you don’t have to be embarrassed. I will never think less of you for wanting to...”

“I touched you.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I let you. I enjoyed your touch. You were so innocent, so adorable. I was thrilled to be the object of your curiosity.”

“You make yourself sound like a lab experiment.”

“In a way, I was. you were experimenting, testing your own reactions. My body was the catalyst. When you’re ready, maybe you’ll tell me what you discovered. But first, I want to tell you a story.”

“A story?”

“It’s about a young boy, a teen ager, who got in over his head very early on. He found himself attracted to other boys, and he was scared that no one would like him. He wasn’t that good at sports. He didn’t feel good looking. He was afraid of being alone. He found that he’d have companionship if he let other boys play with his body. And so he let them. Lots of them. They used his mouth, his ass, his hands... and he learned to like it, or at least, to like the feeling it gave him of being tolerated, of being sought after, of being a source of pleasure to the guys that he was attracted to.

“But every once in a while, he would get very afraid, worried that they liked his ass, or his mouth, but not him. They liked the things he let them do. They liked cumming in him, on him. They liked that when girls wouldn’t put out, he never said no. But for all the inches, feet, yards and more of cock that went into him, he was still empty inside.”

“Who are you talking about?” Liam10 looked confused.

“Me.”

“You? You felt empty? And when I touched you, didn’t you feel...”

“Like that young kid who let other guys touch him? For a moment. But then I understood that you were nervous, and that you were hearing your friend and my friend making love loudly and uninhibitedly, and that must be driving you crazy. So crazy that... Wait a minute. Bad choice of words. Sorry.”

A smile passed over Liam10’s face for the first time since we had met. It was an instant, but I could tell that he was relaxing. “No worries. I won’t rush back to take more pills. I may be nuts, but not that nuts.”

“Are you expert enough?”

“What do you mean, enough?”

“You seemed very interested in my nuts. You studied them. I wanted you to use your tongue, but you did a lot of exploring with your fingers. Oh, now I’m making you blush.”

“I can’t believe you’re not mad.”

“I was flattered and incredibly turned on.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“If we... I mean, maybe we could... well, if it works out that..”

I interrupted him. “We will. No ifs, no ands, and two butts. Whose butt gets attention first, I don’t know.”

“You’re so comfortable about all this. It’s so new to me, being bent.”

“Bent?”

“A poofta. It’s another word the lads at home use for a gay guy. When they say, ‘fag,’ they mean a cigarette. At least, that’s old slang for a smoke. Or for a boy who acts as a kind of servant to an older boy at a public school. What you call ‘private school,’ at home people call ‘public schools.’”

“Liam of the Ten Inches!” I said, as if I were calling the role at an assembly. Liam looked around, as if he were worried that others might hear me.

“Earth to Liam of the 25 Centimeters!”

“25.4.”

“Earth to Liam of the 25.4 Centimeters!”

“Yes?”

“You’re not bent. You’re not straight. You’re still figuring yourself out. Your friend Liam likes you. If he likes you, that’s good enough for Paul and me. You’ll meet another friend of ours this evening, another Paul. We sometimes call him, ‘Paul the waiter,’ just to distinguish him from my Paul. He'll like you too. Not because you’re cute, even though you are. Not because of your 25.4 centimeters, though I doubt that will go unnoticed. Not because your nose looks like an angel dropped it onto your face at so perfect an angle that I can’t take my eyes off of you. But because you’re going to be a friend. Right now, you’re invited because Liam the Red vouches for you. But that shouldn’t concern you. We trust him. He says we should get to know you. We will. You have a crowd of people to meet, and not one of them will think less of you for being interested in my cock or my balls.”

“I don’t know what to...”

“You don’t have to say anything. This is my homily, here.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Yes, and unless you want me to break into plainsong, you’ll let me finish.”

“Go on.”

“I want to give you the lay of the land, so to speak. I fell in love with my roommate, Paul. I didn’t tell him. I was still that kid I told you about. He was straight. He was going to be a father.”

“A father?”

“It’s complicated, and you’re asking for me to start chanting.”

“Okay, okay.”

“We went out to dinner because of some problems that Paul had and because we felt like it, and on the way to Lindoro’s, we met your friend Liam in the street.”

“He told me.”

"Do you know how we happened to start talking to him?”

“No. He didn’t mention it.”

“I’ll get him to tell you later. But anyway, we quickly expanded our twosome to a threesome. The three of us love each other. We’ve done everything a male body can do with another male body, within reason. And we want to keep doing it for as long as we can.”

“Why are you telling me this?

“Because we also have an agreement that we can make love with other guys. In fact, we have brought several other guys into our beds, and we’ve enjoyed their company.

“Is this what you call an ‘open relationship?’”

“I don’t call it anything in particular. I call it our relationship. What it means is that when Paul and Liam make love, they’re not embarrassed, and I don’t feel left out. And when you and I make love...”

“Is that what we’re going to do?”

“God, I hope so. This talking is getting me horny.”

“You’re horny?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I thought that...”

“That you shouldn’t admit it? The rules have changed. This is not high school or church camp, where it’s not polite or moral to be horny. I’m glad I make you horny. It will give me more confidence about sucking your cock, or playing with your foreskin, or taking your balls into my mouth.”

“Oh, God.”

“You can call me ‘Peter.’”

“Oh, my God. Uhhh.”

I suddenly realized what was happening. Liam10 was cumming, just from me talking to him. “Let it happen.”

“You know?”

“I hope.” I put my arm around him and since it was growing dark, I also slipped my hand into his pocket. It really did feel like 10 inches. And through the layers of clothing, I could tell it was damp. I looked around. No one could see anything. I pulled my hand out of Liam10’s pocket and slipped it right down the front of his trousers. He gasped. I went right for his skin and moved it in the way I had learned that our Liam enjoyed. Liam10 gasped a few more times, partly in surprise, and then his knees sort of buckled against me. He staggered away from me, I caught him, and we wound up sitting on a bench. People were walking by in the street. Liam10 was breathing heavily, gasping again.

“You made me cum again.”

“Good.”

“It felt so good.”

“It’s supposed to feel good. I wanted you to feel good. I wasn’t quite sure you’d cum just from our talking, but...”

“The sound of your voice makes me hard. After I felt you in bed that night, I put the hand that was on you up to my nose and I smelled it, trying to catch a little of your scent.”

“My scent?”

“To me, you smelled clean and masculine, and maybe I imagined it, but there was a slight odor to your balls...”

“You’ll have to ask Liam and Paul.”

“I will.”

I was beginning to think I had created a monster, when a thought occurred to me. Where had Liam the Red gotten to? Maybe he went ahead to Lindoro’s.

“Come on, Liam of the Ten Inches. Let’s get to Lindoro’s.”

Another maitre d’ ushered us in the front door, and we got VIP treatment, as he showed us to the small elevator. I asked him if a red-haired fellow had... “Your friend is upstairs already,” he answered. Liam10 and I stood front to front in the tiny elevator car, and I could feel that he was hard again, or still, as the elevator went up to a private landing.

I knew the way. This was the room Paul the waiter had shown us to when we slept here. I opened the door.

Liam the Red was already nude, and hard. The two Pauls were equally nude. Paul the waiter was in great shape, and his almond skin, nicely muscled, punctuated by his abs, descended to a jet-black crop of pubic hair. His cock was, as he told us, uncut. I didn’t know how big it was soft, because it was hard. It was moving up and down, bobbing, as Paul the waiter, astride my Paul, fucked himself on my Paul’s hardon. Liam the Red was just inserting his hardon into Paul the waiter’s hole, completing a double penetration. Paul the waiter looked at me, and I could see the lust in his eyes. I kissed his mouth deeply, and then I brought Liam10 over.

Liam10’s eyes were popping out of his head. Here were three handsome, men, with fine bodies, taking pleasure with great gusto. I led Liam10 up to Paul the waiter, who looked at him with the eyes of someone in the midst of being double fucked. I took Paul the waiter’s hand, put it on Liam10’s hardon, and I said, “Meet Liam of the Ten Inches.”

“Pleased... unhh... to... unhh... meet you...” Paul the waiter said, tugging at Liam10’s zipper.

“That was just an appetizer. The first course is mine,” I said, leading Liam10 over to a loveseat. It was really a sofa, but it was going to be a loveseat by the time we had dinner.

Liam10 was breathing very heavily, and I took him in my arms and cradled his head. I kissed his neck, very gently, and I said, “You are safe. No one here and nothing here will harm you. You can touch any of us, or invite us to touch you. This room is a kind of Never-Neverland, where you can explore your gay desire freely.”

“Things are going so fast.” Liam10 seemed to be hyperventilating.

I held him against me, caressing his hair, nuzzling his neck, as the spasms of his third orgasm without even getting undressed gave way to aftershocks. I continued to hold him as we watched Paul the waiter shoot five powerful squirts of sperm forward, and as Liam the Red grunted and, judging by his facial expressions, came powerfully alongside my Paul, in Paul the waiter’s ass. Finally, my Paul beckoned to me.

“Is it OK?” I asked Liam10.

“Go,” he said, his eyes huge.

I went to Paul, who motioned downward. I put my face on his abs and felt him shoot his load against my face. I let him finish, and I tongued his navel for a moment, then kissed my Paul deeply, his sperm running all over our faces. I whispered to him, he nodded, and then I went back to Liam10. I kissed him deeply. He recoiled momentarily, feeling the remains of Paul’s cum all over my face, and then he attacked me with his mouth, kissing me, sucking my cheeks and my lips, kissing deeper and deeper, breathing heavily. I enjoyed his caresses.

Paul the waiter stood up. He had a decade on any of us, but his body was toned and handsome. His cock dangled impressively as he strode over to us.

“Liam of the Ten Inches!” Paul the waiter said.

“Yes?” Liam said, nonplussed at having so much male nudity around him, at his face being damp with sperm, his mouth still frothy with sperm.”

“Welcome to Lindoro’s.” I hope you will enjoy your...”

Liam10 was staring into Paul the waiter’s eyes. He looked down at Paul’s uncut cock. He looked at me. He looked from face to face around the room. My Paul and our Liam were holding each other, kissing.

“I wonder...” Liam10 said, a bit timidly. “I wonder if you and Pete would mind...” He hesitated. Paul the waiter and I let him feel his way forward. A series of thought crossed Liam10’s mind like shadows of clouds on a very windy day. He seemed to come to a decision. Abruptly, he pulled his pants down to the ground, kicked his shoes off, and within 10 seconds had turned his ass toward us and looked at us over his shoulder. “If you would mind... that is... what Liam and the other Paul did to you, would you do it to me?” And without a word, he pulled his ass cheeks apart and waited for the next move.
 
WOW!!!

I know what Liam10 was feeling while Pete was just talking to Him! And, I'm only reading, not hearing, You! Yes! Your are writing, presenting, Your story THAT Well!! (!w!)

The liberated Liam10 is not only jumping in with both feet, butt seemingly jumping off a cliff! I'm not sure what Pete, and 'Paulo', are going to do, or not, given this being "Junior's" initiation. I can't wait to find out! (!)

Though the SEX tends to overshadow everything else, I am also quite fascinated with all of the other, deeper, aspects the guys are experiencing/going through. All of that 'background' fills out, and intensifies, the LIFE in Your story! :=D: ..|

THANK YOU!, SO Much, for sharing this with 'Us'! (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss:(*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
It's near North Station in Boston, on the edge of the North End. It's a few blocks (about 6) from Old North Church.
 
Good grief, this is good! This is the best-quality prose I've seen on here. The sex is hot, the story is engaging, and the dialogue is witty. I'm enjoying the hell out of it.

As Jayne said, I'll be in my bunk.
 
Tenting Tonight, chapter 11

I am not sure Liam10’s sudden leap into double penetration was the right way to experience anal sex for the first time. In fact, I am sure it was NOT the way. l say that on the basis of the groaning, and then the howling, and then the tears that he shed. I did my best to help him through the pain, having contributed to it.

When Liam10 asked us, I was skeptical. I had already been fucked many times and fucked other guys frequently, but I know that I’m not built for double penetration, or for that matter, for bottoming for guys who are hugely well hung. Maybe if Liam10 had had more experience topping, he would have known just how difficult it is for some guys to accommodate a huge penis. I know that if you read articles, there’s always some bottom or other who says that he prefers huge guys to guys with small cocks, because the guys who are smaller poke around a lot inside you, whereas the huge guys, if they can get in at all without tearing you apart, stimulate the prostate almost without trying and provide a very stimulating experience for a bottom. Not having topped, and being hungry for experiences he had witnessed, Liam10 let his desire get the better of him. I wasn’t able to dissuade him, and I made the misjudgment of trying to be part of his deflowering so that I could help him. Bad idea on my part. Bad, bad, bad.

Paul the waiter should also have known better. He was hardly inexperienced! But we too were swept up in the passion of the moment, and Liam10’s urgent expression of need, and we thought that Liam10 would adjust. Paul the waiter lay down, his cock pointing skyward. We had already talked through what would happen, and so Liam10 moved over the waiter’s body, took hold of his hardon, pointed it at his butt, trying his best to aim, and then sat down abruptly.

I was holding Liam10 and looking him in the eyes as he maneuvered himself. I had cautioned him that he might experience pain at first and that he should be very careful not to stretch himself too much. When he plunged down, I said, “No! Careful!” - but as I said the words, I saw Liam’s eyes suddenly grow huge with surprise. I felt him tense his muscle in reaction to the unexpected level of pain. Paul the waiter’s cock would have been a stretch for me, and I was no beginner. For Liam10, he must have felt that he was splitting in two.

He did not, however, give up. He breathed heavily and arched his butt outward, while moving so that Paul’s column could enter him without obstruction. He almost succeeded, but he told me later that it felt as though he had been a poor little animal being taken to the taxidermist and stuffed. Then he looked me in the eye and demanded my cock too. I told him he was asking for too much, but he gritted his teeth and said, in a voice straight out of The Exorcist, “Now. Fuck me now. Put it in next to his. I don’t want to wait. I want the pain. I want to remember this forever.”

He insisted, and at length, I gave in. I positioned myself at the point where Paul’s hardon was stationed. Paul the waiter was not thrusting, or even moving. He was allowing Liam10 to use his hardon to impale himself with it. He told us both that if we didn’t both fuck him, he’d go out on the street or go to a bar and pick up two guys who’d double fuck him. He had become obsessed with this one act. In fewer than two hours, Liam10 was determined to have it his way at once. In retrospect, I think it was manic behavior, especially given his recent suicide attempt. We were all thinking irrationally.

I did my best not to hurt Liam10 as I slipped the head of my cock into him, touching that of Paul the waiter. But it was impossible not to cause pain, the last thing I wanted to do. I held Liam10 from behind. I encouraged him to lean back against me and to rest his head on my shoulder. He did, and I watched a series of attempts to relax, one after another, fail. I saw the grimaces of his face. His head was against my cheek when he began to howl like a banshee, and then he burst into sobs. It was a cry of utter desolation and unhappiness, not to mention pain. I withdrew my cock, but I had lost my erection with the first cry of pain. Paul the waiter moved as much as he could to pull out, until with a “pop” sound, he was out. Liam10 wept, tears cascading down his face, sobs wracking his slender body. Paul the waiter caressed him from below, while trying to extract himself; I enfolded Liam10 in my arms, cooing to him. My Paul and Liam the Red left off what they had been doing to race to our aid. We all held Liam10 as he wept. But the weeping did not stop.

It wasn’t just the pain, though Liam10 told me eventually that he had suddenly felt a knot in the anal muscles as if his rectum were going into a charliehorse that continued for hours. Nothing he did relieved it. I massaged it for him. We tried a heating pad. We even tried ice. I held his head against mine again, as Liam the Red melted part of an ice cube in his mouth and slipped the remnant into Liam10’s ass, rubbing the ice gently on his ass-lips.

Nothing we did helped. We knew that we had taken a chance inviting Liam10, who had been in turmoil only a few days earlier and apparently still was in turmoil. The sobs were the result of emotional stress, not simply the pain. What inner demons had been let loose by the probing of two hard cocks in Liam10’s intestines? We couldn’t get him to stop crying. Or so we thought. But just when we were giving up hope, Liam the Red, as usual, came to the rescue.

With all the grace of the dancer he was, Liam the Red clambered up onto the sofa where I was sitting with Liam10. Our Liam was nude, his lithe body a finely tuned machine. His cock was still partly hard. He moved in front of us and moved his hips so that his cock slapped Liam10 across the face. Liam10 looked up, confused and astonished.

“Liam of the Ten Inches! You have forgotten to laugh. I have come to give you an injection with my magic twanger!” And Liam the Red’s hardon again swung across Liam10’s face. Liam10 still looked dazed, but Liam the Red kept swinging his hips side to side, and the hardon gently struck his cheeks. We all watched Liam10 closely. After a few minutes of these gentle penis-slaps across the face, he seemed visibly to relax a little. When that happened, out of nowhere, my Paul began singing, in a bizarre, comical voice I had never heard before, “Let’s twist again, like we did last summer...” and Paul the waiter and I responded with the backup vocals, “Yeah!” When we got to the next line, “...like we did last year,” and the two of us responded, “YEAH-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-uh!” we began to giggle, slightly at first.

In seconds, there was a torrent of laughter, as Liam the Red’s uncut hardon continued to swing against Liam10’s face. Liam10 looked up at us solemnly, and suddenly he began to sing also. The tension was broken, but we all knew, deep down, that Liam10 was more troubled than we knew, and that we, his friends, had to be there for him, because there was no way of telling how much support he would get as he discovered his sexuality.

And once again, it was Liam the Red who came to the rescue. I can still see that handsome cock of his, with the foreskin that I loved to nibble on. He alone could have broken the tension in so outlandish a way. It took a rare spirit and a compassionate soul to jump in as he did, but that was Liam the Red. I miss him every day. I cannot bring myself yet to tell you what happened to him, because if I do not say it, I am able to pretend that someday I will open the door and see him, standing there in the street, or in a hotel corridor, his red hair crowning his lower abdomen, his hardon pointed right at me, and his impish grin making me burst into fits of laughter.

Paul the waiter, still without a stitch on, rang a bell on the wall, and two incredibly handsome young men in waiter’s tuxedos entered. They were trained as servants for minor royals might have been trained prior to World War I: they did not engage us eye to eye, one had the sense that they saw and enjoyed seeing five naked men, several of them aroused, but they were the soul of discretion. Needless to say, I wanted them both. Liam10 tensed briefly when they entered, but Paul the waiter, taking charge, sat beside Liam10 and held him until he was calm and relaxed. The two waiters returned with a buffet supper fit for a king, all courtesy of Lindoro’s and Paul the waiter. He had arranged all this for us. I wondered how often he did things like this; he could not do this every night! But he must have done this before. And we college students could not be his only friends, could we?

There was no orgy that night. There was no overt sex, only a background of intense sexuality shared among us. We enjoyed each other’s nudity. We enjoyed each sense of humor, each gesture of friendship. And we had a shared mission, now: we needed to keep Liam10 safe, to get him through the journey on which he had embarked. We let him take the lead in the conversation when he spoke up, but each of us spoke to him with the care and concern of a lover.

Liam10 was not accustomed to such support. He was, he told us, the youngest, so far, of 11 children. “So far,” Liam said, because his mother was only 48! Liam10 described his parents as being very much in love, yet somehow their passion did not leave a lot of emotional room for the role of parent. His parents took the train eve day to Cardiff, where they each worked in a different university department. We did not probe; we let Liam10 open up at his own pace (as we should have done with his desire at the outset of this chapter!).

As Liam10 described each of his siblings to us, lovingly, we were all struck by the disconnect between his conflicted emotions regarding himself and the respect and affection in which he held his family. We let him talk. The handsome waiters returned, eventually, and we sat naked, without self-consciousness, in front of them. They cleared the dishes and brought dessert and sweet wine. I saw one of them glance at Paul the waiter, who with the slightest of gestures, almost imperceptibly, answered “no.” I wondered what the question was, and I decided I would ask him, eventually.

We encouraged Liam10 to talk, very gently. He did continue to open up, and by late that evening, we were not immediately afraid for his well-being. But I can’t say that we were sure that he would get through this. For some young men, the journey is more difficult than for others. I gradually moved to sit closer to my Paul, with Liam the Red stretched out between us, resting his head between my left thigh and Paul’s right thigh. Liam10 sat leaning back, opposite us, on the familiar love seat, his head resting against Paul the waiter’s chest. He was more relaxed than I had ever seen him.

We talked until we were all nodding off. I don’t much remember what we talked about, but rather that for once, we weren’t kidding each other non-stop. We pulled together to support Liam10. That night, all of us slept in that one room. My two boys and I shared a sofa, and we were packed tightly together, our naked bodies feeling great against each other.

Paul the waiter and Liam10 stayed where they were, Paul cradling Liam in his arms, Liam resting back against Paul. Liam seemed to react well to Paul’s being somewhat older — Paul’s touch calmed Liam10 down, and Liam’s neediness evoked a deep-seated desire in Paul to nurture. (It may sound negative to call Liam10 “needy,” but objectively, he was needy.) The two of them were drawn to each other almost by instinct. Each touched a responsive chord in the other. If ever there was a relationship that was love at first sight, it was Paul the waiter and Liam10. There were a few rough patches for them over the years, but what we were seeing this night was the beginning of a deep relationship. I can tell you that they have lasted.

On some level, Paul fills an emptiness in Liam10’s life and his self esteem that Liam10 was trying to cram full of double penetration earlier that evening. And Paul, who filled a void in Albert’s life, was fulfilled by Liam’s need for him. Paul likes to be needed. And he is needed. There is still a lot of background detail to be filled in on the two handsome young waiters and other staff members who worked at Lindoro’s.

Each of us worried that Liam10 would not make it, or that he would be carted off home to Wales when his parents found out about his suicide attempt(s). But things worked out differently for him. In one sense, Paul and Liam set the course of their lives when Paul put his arms around Liam, and when Liam leaned back against Paul.

We left Liam10 with Paul the waiter. (I really have to come up with another designation for him, but that’s what we called him. In fact, as I write this, in September of 2011, I called him that at dinner last Friday evening.) By silent and mutual agreement, Paul would see that Liam10 was safe. They each told me that after we left them, they had hours of deep, heart-to-heart conversation, and they were joined at noontime by Albert, whom none of the rest of us had met yet. The three of them spent the afternoon together, listening to music and just enjoying being together.

So Paul introduced Liam to Albert, who in turn became a kind of surrogate grandfather to Liam, just as he was a kind of benign daddy to Paul, and as Paul was to Liam. Albert had virtually unlimited resources, and his legal staff got Liam’s student visa extended and then got him a green card, and eventually, American citizenship. Liam’s siblings, after some grumbling, came to accept Paul as their brother’s partner. (Eventually, in Massachusetts, his husband.) Perhaps surprisingly, Paul became close with Liam’s parents, who were the only members of Liam’s family who knew how troubled he had been. When they saw how Paul brought stability and love to their son, they fell in love with Paul themselves.

People look at that household, Albert, now extremely elderly, Paul, in his gray prime, and Liam, so vulnerable at first, now so assured of the love in his life, and they tell you a lot about themselves. If they focus only on sex, they miss the boat, and thus the whole, larger picture. Albert changed Paul’s life, and Paul may have saved Liam10’s life. They (yes, Liam10 became a part of their work) made Lindoro’s a focal point for gay and artistic college students (I know, I know, for some of us also a “fuck-all” point).

We left to go back to our schools the next day. Liam the Red hopped on the T with us, and we changed to different trains at Arlington St. My Paul and I were exhausted, and we missed most of our classes for two days. Liam the Red had rehearsal, but he showed up at our room at 12 midnight, making us laugh until we cried, giving us each at least one quick orgasm, and climbing into bed with us. I swear, our Liam could make you laugh your way to cumming in his sleep!

The next morning, after phoning Paul the waiter again and learning that Liam10 was still with him, we had breakfast and headed for our various classes. In the afternoon, when I got back to the room, Paul’s answering machine was blinking. Paul arrived shortly after that, and we listened to the message. It was our Liam. Crying, not laughing from the sound of it. He said something about his brother and needing us. We called his dorm, and they said that an ambulance had taken him to Mass General, the big hospital. Without a word, we left for the hospital.
 
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