He climbed into the bed, turned on his reading light and picked up the book he had been reading - but not really reading - on the beach in Key West. The memory of the beach triggered memories of Patrice and Jean-Marc. Their near-nakedness in the glaring sunlight. Their unself-conscious embraces on the sand. How they had appeared at his bedroom door after the extraordinary dinner -- to say goodnight, he thought. But they came into his room. Patrice sat on the edge of the bed. Jean-Marc stood at the end. Patrice leaned down and kissed him, called him beautiful, asked if they could sleep with him and didn't wait for an answer. He pulled back the sheet and put his lips on Pat's cock. And Pat didn't resist. He put his arms around the boy and pulled their bodies together. He had wanted them so badly, wanted them to want him. And they did.

He remembered every detail. Patrice's tight foreskin and the thin film of sweat on his hairless chest, his moans when Pat's tongue worked his nipples. Jean-Marc stripping slowly and sliding onto the bed next to him, taking Pat's free hand and guiding it onto his thick erection. Then, while Patrice was shedding his clothes, Jean-Marc straddled Pat's chest, gently pinioned his wrists to the pillow and presented his balls to be licked. That was what had been so special. The boys had taken complete charge of him, making him a part of their own love-making, making his body an instrument for their own pleasure but doing their loving, ingenious utmost to take him on a journey of pleasure with them.

When Jean-Marc lifted Pat's legs in the air, Pat expected a finger to enter his anus, to stretch and lubricate it. Instead, Patrice's tongue had begun a leisurely but electrifying journey up and down the cleft between his buttocks until, as Pat writhed in noisy ecstasy, it entered him just as Jean-Marc captured his swollen cockhead between a pair of warm, pillowy lips. Pat thought he would explode then and there. The boys held him back. They calibrated their amorous assault on him so perfectly that he didn't give himself over that first time, not until Patrice, mounted on him like a rutting dog, was stroking powerfully back and forth inside him and he and Jean Marc were locked in intense, mutual sucking.

Then came that sweet, overpowering agony of heedless release. As Pat bucked and spewed, Patrice, shouting, began to come inside him and finally Jean-Marc erupted in orgasm, spurting his seed in Pat's mouth and then over his face and chest. Patrice collapsed on the bed, and Pat would have done the same except that Jean-Marc, lying below him, pulled his buttocks down so that he could lap up his lover's semen as it slowly escaped from Pat's body.

With his eyes tightly closed, Pat summoned up more images. Entering Jean-Marc and the youngster's grunt of pleased surprise at Pat's thickness. How Patrice pretended to be jealous, standing on the bed and pulling Pat's face into his crotch, into the deliciously crinkly swirl of pubic hair where Pat could smell faint traces of his own body as he worshipped Patrice's. And the touch of Jean-Marc's hands, so delicate for such a sturdy kid, opening Pat's fingers and closing them again on Jean-Marc's more-than-sturdy cock.

But it wasn't the French boy's fingers on his. Pat's eyes snapped open. Terry was leaning over him, trying gently to remove the book that had dropped onto his chest. "Oh," Pat said, "I guess I dozed off."

"You looked so happy and peaceful," Terry apologized. "I'm sorry. I should have just left you alone."

"It's okay, thanks." Pat saw that his guest's pony tail was gone and, his hair, covering his ears, falling almost to his shoulders, gleamed a lighter shade of red than before. "Are you ready for bed? Or," he smiled, "would you like a good book?"

Terry shook his head. "I'm bushed. I won't have trouble getting to sleep." He walked around the end of the bed, his briefs sagging just enough to disguise the shape of his butt and size of his genitals, pulled back the covers on his side and sat down. "Pat," he looked over his shoulder, "is it okay if I don't wear anything to bed? I usually don't," he was blushing, "but maybe you…"

"That's kind of funny," Pat answered. "I sleep in the nude, too, but I just had a little debate with myself about not shocking you."

"Who won?" Terry raised his hips from the bed and pulled his underwear off. Gracefully, but quickly, he got under the covers and lay down, smiling at Pat.

"Let's put it this way. I hope you're not easily shocked."

"I was in a pretty raunchy fraternity at college. I'll be okay."

"Good. Sleep well then." Pat put his book on the bedside table and switched off the reading light. "And remember, if my snoring wakes you up, shake me hard and I'll stop."

"Will do. Good night, Pat. Thanks for taking me in."

"De nada. I'm glad to have company." In the dark, the silence lasted several minutes. Terry broke it.

"Pat, why did you say that you wouldn't try anything with me?"

"Because I won't. I didn't want you to worry about sharing a bed with me."

"What if I'd like to be molested a little?"

"By me?"

"Yes, please." Seconds ticked away while Pat tried to digest what he'd heard and Terry tried to understand his own boldness. "I'm sorry," the younger man finally said, "but you turned me on when I first saw you. Then, when I found out who you are, well, I tried to take care of myself just now in the shower, but I'd rather have the real thing. I'm not very good at it, but I'd like to make love to you, Pat."

"What about your roommate? The necktie. Aren't you … you know … involved?"

"With Jen?" Terry chuckled. "No, we've been friends for ever, but she got me the job with Eli so that she could move her boyfriend in."

"And you don't have anybody? A great looking guy like you?"

"I'm shy. At least, I'm shy with everybody but you." Terry stretched his hand out toward Pat's side of the bed. "Pat, I can't say I love you because I've only known you a few hours, but I'd love to have you hold me. I'd love to try to make you happy." He groped along the bedcovers and found Pat's hand, touched it, took it in his own. And Pat did not pull away. Instead, he turned on his side toward Terry and laid his free hand on the younger man's arm. Slowly, he stroked it.

"Terry," he said at last, "I'd like to hold you. No, I'd love to hold you. I can't believe you want me anywhere near as much as I want you. You're so young, so fresh, and I'm used up. I've had love."

"I haven't. I haven't even had much sex. But, Pat," he pulled the blanket back and even in the darkness, Pat could make out the elegance of Terry's long, lean, naked frame, "I want to learn about love and about making love. You could teach me. I'd like you to teach me."

"Come here then, you beautiful, shy kid. Lesson number one requires body contact, and I'd really like to contact your body. For starters." Pat tugged at Terry's hand and drew the more-than-willing youth into his arms. Their lips met, and as they kissed, Pat's hands roamed down Terry's back to his buttocks, cupping them and kneading their firm flesh. Terry whimpered as his cock stiffened and tried to drill a hole in Pat's belly.

"Am I hurting you?" Pat worried that he'd been too fierce.

"Oh, no. Oh, no. It's just wonderful. You're so strong. God, your arms. I can't believe how good they feel."

"So does your ass. Your whole body." Pat's lips went exploring along Terry's jawbone, back to the lobe of his ear, down to his throat. "And you smell so good. You used the Floris shampoo, didn't you?"

"Yes. Was that wrong?"

"No. It was Spence's favorite. I love the tang of it. And I love your hair. You're gorgeous, Terry, gorgeous. But I've got to see all of you." He reached back to the bedside table and found the light switch. The reading lamp was not strong, but its light danced on Terry's skin, changing its pale milkiness to diluted gold and leaving valleys of shadow in the crook of an elbow, along one side of his neck. It also showed the wet sparkle of Terry's eyes and one tear that had not quite run all the way down his cheek. Pat put a finger to the spot, captured the drop and brought it to his lips.

"Do you cry because you're happy?"

Terry nodded. More tears were coming. He did not trust his voice not to crack.

"Oh, baby," Pat caressed Terry's arm. "So do I. So do I. Isn't that wonderful? That we're alike that way?"

Terry pushed his head against Pat's chest. Cautiously, inexpertly, he tried to imprison a nipple between his lips.

Pat combed his fingers through the mane of hair. "Use your tongue first, honey," he advised. "Just the tip. That'll raise me up and give you something to work on."

Terry renewed his nuzzling but, as instructed, more delicately and with more satisfying results. Not only did Pat's nipple rise, swell and harden, Pat arched his back and gave a quick gasp. "Bingo!" he blurted. "That feels so good. So damn good."

Using the tip of an index finger in a light, swirling motion on the moistened, erect pap, Terry moved his mouth to the other side of Pat's chest, pausing to tug at the thick growth of black hair on the breastbone. And as he licked around the second aureole, he let his fingers slide down the silky trail along Pat's stomach, through the pubic thatch and onto the cock that was straining up and out of Pat's groin.

It was Terry's turn to gasp. "You're so big, Pat! Jesus!" His fingers just managed to circle the shaft. "You're awesome."

Pat drew himself up into a sitting position and clasped Terry to him. "I'm kind of thick, I know. I hope it doesn't turn you off. I'm not really any longer than average."

"Oh, you don't turn me off. It's just…" he took Pat's hand and guided it onto his own stiff penis. "See? I'm so skinny down there. And I've never been with anybody hung like you. The truth is, Pat, I've only been with two men … and the sex was only sucking them… and, and I want so much to please you and I…"

"And you're scared," Pat cut him off, forced his mouth onto Terry's and kissed him hard, caressing the back of his head and fondling his cock at the same time. "Don't be scared, kiddo," Pat finally ended the kiss. "I wouldn't hurt you for the world. And it doesn't matter if the sex isn't perfect the first time or even the tenth. The important part is to love each other while we're making love, and I know I can love you. You're adorable, Terry, and sweet and strong, and you've got nothing to be ashamed of." He stroked the other's erection gently. "It's elegant, just like you are. I'd like to feel it inside me. I'd like you to make love to me that way."

"You… you would? You'd let me…?"

"Fuck my ass? I'd love it. I'd love to wrap my legs around you and feel you pumping into me. Would you do that for me?"

"I never have. I feel like such a loser, but I've never done that. There are so many things I've never done, because, yes, because I was scared. Pat, I don't want to hurt you. Can we do it so that you're in control?"

"I'll have to check the manual," Pat was grinning, and Terry, sensing that his inexperience was a source of amusement, bristled a little. "No, baby," Pat kissed him again, "don't get your back up. I was just teasing, but I do have to get some things from the bathroom." He swung his feet over the side of the bed. "I'll be right back. Don't start without me."