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"You've told someone about what's going on with Riley, Mother, and me, haven't you?" Nathan asked, when he and Bailey were alone, sitting on opposite sides of the dining table. Bailey rotated his glass of juice, and nodded. "Yes," he responded, in a low voice. "Who? Does Riley know?" "I spoke with my father, and 'no', Riley doesn't know. I thought I was being circumspect. I had to speak with my father, Nathan. If I had not, sooner or later, he would have come to the apartment, asking after my welfare. Me calling him prevents that. I also needed to bat around a few scenarios with him . . . things I've been thinking about; about how your mother might be able to figure out where we all are. I needed a sounding board, and could think of no one better than Father. I didn't want to speak with you or Riley about my thoughts because I knew you would be upset, for no reason, if my ideas proved unfounded. Father was the person who chose the attorneys for your father's new law firm, y'know. He and your father have become good friends. Besides, I didn't think he would do or say anything which might jeopardize my life. "I wanted to tell him how important it is for him, Mother, and anyone else who might know of my connection with Riley, or the connection my father has with the attorneys, down in Atlanta, to keep their mouth shut. All it'll take is one careless person to innocently say something to . . . someone, and who knows what'll come of it? "Father strongly urged that I do my best to convince you and your brother that the three of us should have a bodyguard," Bailey murmured, looking up from beneath lowered eyelids, to gauge Nathan's reaction. "I told him you guys wouldn't consider the idea, but I made something of a deal, to keep him from taking matters into his own hands." "Deal?" Bailey nodded once. "I told him we wouldn't accept a bodyguard, as long as we were here in the city, or hiding someplace else. But, if your father ever wants you, Riley, and perforce me, to go back to Atlanta, for whatever reason, I'll persuade you guys to allow him to supply us with guards. I figured if things are still up in the air, as far as your mother's concerned, you both would probably agree. I hope I haven't abused your trust. If I have, it was not my intent." * * * Jonah quietly climbed the steps to the library and peeked inside, recalling his mother's words. "Owen needs you at his side. Would you go talk to him, for me? It's you he needs. Lucas and Sam would be the first to agree, I'm sure of it." She ran a finger over his smooth cheek. "I'm thinking that maybe you need your brother, too. "You were always so close," she continued, searching her son's eyes. "You miss that closeness, don't you?" Jonah nodded his bowed head. "We've been through a lot, Owen and me. I love him, Mama. It used to be that he and I could talk things out. Now," Jonah shrugged. "It's . . . different. In some ways, I miss those old times. I don't know if he trusts anyone else enough to unburden himself. "He's hurting, Mama. He's hurtin' and I don't know what I can do to help him." "You can be with him, sweetheart. As you said, he'll talk to you, like no one else. You've gotta remember though, that only Owen can solve his hurts. You or Sam, or Lucas, or anyone else, can listen, but that's all. Owen is the person who's in control of his future. It's tough to watch him, sometimes, but," she grinned crookedly, "he's a strong boy, just as you are." She'd kissed Jonah on the forehead then turned him toward the home's front door, and swatted the seat of his pants. "Now, go." With the approach of autumn, the days had taken on a lingering honey-sweet quality. The heat of the summer was gone, along with the summer rains, leaving many of the trees golden in the light of the setting sun. The lights in the library were on, and, as Jonah hoped, Nicky's reading lesson was over, and the little boy had gone home. As Jonah watched, Owen lovingly ran his fingers over a shelf full of books, then crossed the room, turned one of the library chairs around, and straddled it, as he sat, his arms crossed along its back. He rested his chin on his arms and closed his eyes, lost in thought. Jonah knocked softly on the frame of the open door, and held up a hand in greeting, as Owen looked up, a smile wiping away the look of worry. "Hey," Jonah said, suddenly feeling clumsy and tongue-tied, stunned by the effect of his brother's smile. It had lit his face like the sun, for a brief instant, bathing him in its warmth. "Y'know, every time you do that, I get all warm inside," Jonah murmured, as he entered the building. Owen made an inquiring gesture and raised his eyebrows, as he stood, then perched on a corner of one of the library tables. "When you smile like that," Jonah answered the unasked question. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and turned off the lights. "You're done for the day, aren't you," he grinned, at his brother's puzzled expression, then crossed the room and tenderly kissed Owen on the cheek. "Yeah, I guess I am. For you, I'd quit at noon." Owen took his brother's hand. "I was just straightening up." He gestured to a stack of still-unopened boxes. "Would you believe that I'm still unpacking?" He shook his head. "I think I've about finished, when another truck shows up with more stuff! It's amazing." He sat on the edge of the table and invited Jonah to sit close, as the sun dipped below the horizon, erasing the long shadows which had stretched across the library floor, leaving only the lamp on Owen's desk, and the glow of the nearby computer screen, to light the room. "What's on your mind?" "Bunches'a stuff, really," Jonah murmured, as he sat at his brother's side, their thighs nearly touching. He leaned close and snaked an arm around Owen's waist. "Mostly, I'm worried about why you've been quiet n'all, lately. Oh, you laugh, once in a while, but mostly, you're way more quiet than I'm used to." Owen's smile turned introspective. "I'm doing okay. Now . . . why don't you tell me how you're doing. You're bothered by something." Owen's gaze searched his brother's face.
"So, you're doing pretty well? That's not good enough. Still having the nightmares?" Owen sighed, as he snuggled closer to his brother, in the diminishing light. "I still have 'em. Not every night, or anything, but often enough. They're always the same." "Have you talked to anyone about them?" Owen bowed his head. "Yeah, sort'a. Before you ask, it was Will Saunders n'Nicky." "Nicky?" Jonah asked, in an incredulous tone. "Yeah, he helped more'n anyone. I . . . simplified things, but . . . still, he helped. So did Will. Simplifying my thoughts for them, simplified them for me." "And . . . what did you talk about. Your nightmares?" "No, not directly. We talked about . . ." Owen bit his lip. "We talked about trust . . . and . . . and fear." Owen bowed his head. "I cried. I know Nicky was upset seein' me like that, but he sat there, through everything, with his arm around my shoulder." Jonah reached for his brother's hand. "Owen, I have'ta ask. Do you trust me?" Owen gulped a breath, then nodded, unable to answer. "I've touched a tender spot, haven't I?" There was another nod. "I won't ask more, but . . . Owen . . . look at me." When Owen looked up, his eyes threatening to overflow, Jonah continued. "If you need to talk to someone other than Will and Nicky, I'm available. Remember . . . there's no one who loves you more'n me." Owen nodded, unable to face his brother. He gulped a breath and croaked, "I . . . I know." * * * "Guys," Bailey said, in exasperation, only moments away from losing his temper. "Neither one of you is being reasonable!" He turned to Riley. "You are intent on running away, merely because you are afraid your mother's going to find you. What's changed since you were going to school . . . a text message to a phone number Nathan's told you she already had. It's a phone number, Riley, not a friggin' map with a big flashing arrow saying, 'I am here, come get me! "So, she sent a text message. So what? You're letting that woman control your actions. That's what she's hoping to do, you know. You're giving her power over you!" He turned to face Nathan. "That goes for you, too!" "Bailey, it's not you she wants to kill." "You think not? You forget that wherever you go, I'm going to be right there at your side. Doesn't that make me as much a target as you? Riley, you fail to comprehend that . . . when I call you my partner, it means more than we're good friends. It means that I'm sticking to you like glue. You can't get rid of me. So, if you and Nathan are targets of your demented mother, I am also a target; she just doesn't know it." Bailey heaved a deep breath, then flopped onto one of the living room's arm chairs. "So . . . there," he added. After a few minutes of continued silence from Riley and Nathan, he shook his head and sighed. Finally, he heaved himself out of the chair. "I'll go pack my bag, because I know that no matter how impassioned my speech was, you've already made up your mind to leave town. I'll make sure and pack my disguise kit, too. Hell," he said, as stopped to think a moment. "Who needs a disguise? I'll just pack a few of my old outfits." He pointed a finger at one man, then the other. "You both have got to promise not to laugh. "So, how are we going to . . . wherever it is you've decided we're going? By plane? By train? Are we renting a car? What?" "Do you think . . ." Riley began. Bailey studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Okay, I'll ask." He turned to Nathan. "See, I'm psychic. I can read your brother's mind!" He shook his head in irritation. "Surely Father's got an unmarked company car sitting around, which we can use." He threw up his hands. "He's gotten everyone new phones with fictitious names, why not a car as well?" * * * Branson Elledge held the cell phone close to his ear, cursing his trembling hand. He'd been on the run for weeks, hiding from . . . everyone. The moment he left Gustav Winton's law firm, intending to never return, he knew he would be a hunted man. He knew too much. He had lived in fear ever since joining the Winton firm. He could never leave the firm and expect to survive . . . not with everything he knew. Still . . . somehow . . . at least at the beginning, running seemed preferable to doing anything to help a woman who wanted to murder her own children and husband. He'd always known Elizabeth Pruitt was manipulative, but before she returned from the dead, plans he'd helped formulate had seemed . . . academic. They weren't real. No one was going to die, and the firm was paid well for their services. With her return, though, things had changed. Those academic exercises had become something more. He needed to warn someone, so they could help the Pruitt boys. Once he'd told all he knew, he hoped he'd be able to face whatever came afterward, with a clear conscience. 'The only hope of survival, both for me and the young men, is to turn myself in,' he told himself, over and over. 'The FBI can protect me. They can hide me someplace where they can question me. I only hope I'm not too late for them to also help Mr. Pruitt's sons.' "Um . . . hello," he began, as an FBI junior agent answered the telephone. He swallowed. "My name is Branson Elledge, recently of the Gustav Winton law firm. I am willing to provide information in your investigation of the Winton law firm, and Elizabeth Pruitt." He paused, continuing to speak in a shaky voice. "I'm more than willing. I mean, I can give you lots of information . . . in exchange for protection from the Winton Firm, and their henchmen. I . . . I'll do whatever you ask, but please help me," he ended, with a plaintive cry. "Please. I've been in hiding for weeks. I've hardly eaten, and slept even less. I know they want to kill me. I know how they think. Y'see . . . I know too much to be allowed to ever be a free man." Please," he almost sobbed. * * * Elizabeth left the grocery store and approached her beat-up second-hand car, cursing her husband, and, by extension, every man in her life. 'I've never had to buy groceries,' she seethed. 'Never! It is so . . . demeaning . . . to have to mix with average people.'
Her anger evaporated when she saw a folded piece of paper which had been placed beneath the car's windshield wiper, and was replaced by fear. Ever since she found the note on her kitchen table, she was afraid to go anywhere, or do anything. 'I feel violated!" she silently raged. Someone had entered her apartment, leaving no trace of themselves, other than the note, threatening her life. Now . . . here they were, again. 'Why would anyone want to threaten me? 'It has to be Franklin,' she remembered thinking, as she stood in the dreary kitchen and crumbled the note, tossing it into a corner, not even trying to hit the over-full kitchen garbage can. 'Franklin's hired some bozo to try to scare me . . . me! I've seen and done more daring things than ol' Franklin's ever dreamt of. He can't scare me with his cheap tricks,' she brooded, doing her best to stand straight and convince herself that what she said was true. The bravado faded as the days passed, and she realized how often she looked over her shoulder, wondering who was watching. Was someone following too closely? Did that person look suspicious . . . or that one? That man was looking at her. No, that woman was. She wanted to hide, but such a thing was impossible. She was spending good money seeking revenge on her husband and sons. 'I'm safe," she tried to convince herself. 'No one would dare touch me. I'm Elizabeth Pruitt.'
She'd used the information which her ally, Gustav Winton supplied, to arrange for some additional . . . guards . . . to be added to those Franklin had hired to guard the grounds of the house. 'My house!' she fumed. 'He's in my house.' The thought of the . . . additions . . . she'd arranged to be added to the team guarding her house, sent an anticipatory thrill through her body. 'Franklin's dead meat! Once he's out of the way, I can move back in and begin living like a civilized human being.' Now, she faced a second note. She glanced over one shoulder, then the other, before she slowly reached out and pulled the scrap of paper free, unfolding it with shaking hands. "There's nowhere to run. The only thing left . . . is the killing." * * * Owen and Jonah's embrace was interrupted by a knock on the library door. Both men jumped, behaving like children who'd been caught doing something they'd been told not to do. Nicky and his father, Will, were waving through a window, both smiling. "We're not supposed to be reading today," Owen said, clearly puzzled by his young friend showing up at the library. "It's after dark. It must be important. They were taking a chance I'd be here." Owen pulled the door open. "Hi, Owen!" Nicky rushed through the door, holding his arms out, in a request to be picked up. When Owen dutifully knelt, then hoisted the boy, Nicky wrapped his arms around his friend. "Are you feeling better?" he asked. "I made you a card. Dad helped me with the spelling, but I said what I wanted to." "Oh, Nicky," Owen said, as he set the squirming boy down. "That's sweet of you, but why? I'm not sick, or anything." "That's okay. This isn't that kind'a card." Nicky turned to his father, who handed him the large folded paper, on which Nicky had drawn himself sitting on Owen's shoulders. Both figures were grandly smiling. Owen was wearing a red striped T-shirt with his name, printed in wobbly letters, extending across his chest to the background. Nicky was identified by a neatly printed name accompanying an arrow pointing to the young boy. "Open it!" Nicky smiled, looking from his father to Owen, then to Jonah, who'd moved to stand at his brother's side. 'Why'd Nicky ask if Owen was feeling better?' Jonah wondered. Inside was another drawing, this time of the library, rendered in red and blue crayon, and below the picture, in childish letters, the young boy had written: "To Owen, my brother. Love, Nicky." "Oh, Nicky," Owen sniffed. "This is the very best card I've ever gotten." He handed the card to Jonah to see, and knelt, giving the young boy a hug. "I love you, too, little man," he said, as he rubbed the tip of his nose against the child's, causing the boy to make a face. "Thanks for bringing him over, Will," Owen said, as he stood and shook the child's father's hand. "This really is wonderful," he added, standing close to his little friend and resting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm gonna show the card to everyone, then put it on the wall by my desk, so everyone can see it." "Yaaaayy!" Nicky shouted, pumping a fist in the air. * * * Jonah frowned as his sister, Abigail, left the greenhouse with one of the guys from the community college. He wished he could be excited for his sister, about her boyfriend, but something didn't seem . . . right. Abigail waved to Jonah as they left, her laughter trailing behind. "Hmmm," he grumbled. 'Randall Banks may be nice looking, but he is nothing but trouble. I don't like the way he behaves, as if she's his . . . his property. I'm surprised she doesn't see it? Besides,' he thought, feeling more like a parent than Abigail's older brother, 'he's not good enough for her. Ol' Randall better never do anything to hurt her, otherwise . . . ' Jonah's thoughts caused him to laugh. 'Otherwise, I'll sic Opie on him. She'll take him down a notch or two. Ol' Randall would probably laugh if he saw Owen n'me comin' after him. He's let it be known, through some of the other students, working in the greenhouses, that he doesn't have much use for either of us.' Jonah's lips twisted into a crooked grin, as he hoisted himself onto one of the growing tables and began to swing his feet, feeling like a young boy. 'Abigail probably likes him 'cause he's one of the only guys she knows who's her age, and who isn't gay. Me . . . I'd choose Clyde, of Bessie-the-car fame. Clyde's way cuter than Randall, plus, he's a nice guy. I wouldn't touch Randall, even if he asked, and that's sayin' something. It seems that if a person's got a dick, I wanna touch it.' Jonah's smile faded. 'When it comes to sex stuff, my mind's all mixed up. Until Owen left for college, I never even thought about guys. I mean, Owen and I would masturbate, side-by-side. We would comfort one another, after one of Pops' tirades, then sleep at one another's side. That was enough. 'It was only when Owen wasn't with me every day that I realized how important he was to me. I turned to Sam, the other person who was as torn up as I, to share our misery. Neither of us had Owen, so we settled for second best.' Jonah shook his head. 'I should never think of Sam as second best to anyone. He's a wonderful guy; he's just not Owen. 'When Owen returned, Sam's and my relationship didn't serve any purpose, for either of us. It was a good thing for us to split up, the moment we realized why we were together.' He grinned. 'Well, I'm not sure Sam realized it, but I did. Sam wasn't thinking of anything other than being torn up seein' Lucas and Owen together. 'So, I was . . . free, and then, within a couple days, I turned to Corey, the first available gay man near to my own age. Unlike Sam, he's not a substitute for anyone else.' Jonah leaned back, supporting himself on his extended arms, and stared, unseeing, at the far wall of the greenhouse and the greenery. 'If Corey is all I could possibly want, why do I continue to lust after Owen?' Jonah compressed his lips. 'Actually, it's more than lust. When I'm around him I can't think straight. He is . . . is . . . everything to me . . . an anchor, a soothing voice, a gentle caress. He's stronger, in all the important ways, than I could ever hope to be. He's kind, and . . . sort'a vulnerable. I want to hold him, protect him. When I'm with him, everything else falls by the wayside. 'I don't think he realizes exactly how deep my feelings are for him, and if he did, I don't think he would approve. Hell, do I approve? 'It's not just Owen, though. I have to face it. I love sex! Whenever I meet a new guy, I want him! I want to see him naked. I want to kiss him, to taste his sperm, and, yeah, to fuck him. At the same time, I want him to do all those things to me.' Jonah frowned, as he fumbled in his pocket for his ringing phone. He spoke for a few minutes, then hung up, smiling. Corey was on his way over . . . with food. Their dinners, often served picnic-style, on one of the vacant greenhouse growing tables, were becoming something of a tradition. 'It's great,' Jonah thought. 'Corey n'I get to see one another, with no one else around. He gets to tell me 'bout everything going on at the school, and I get to show off all the stuff we're doing, here at the greenhouses.' Often, they would walk hand-in-hand, up and down the aisles separating the growing tables, doing nothing other than enjoying one another's company. They would talk and laugh, then pause to embrace one another and kiss. Other times, Corey, in a fun-loving mood, would tell a story about a certifiably strange relative of his . . . a relative Jonah was never quite sure ever existed. It didn't matter. Their laughter was reason enough for the story, and Jonah felt richer for those glimpses into his lover's mind. A half-hour later, sitting thigh-to-thigh on a blanket, Jonah decided it was time to take his brother's advice. "If you're bothered by your feelings for me," Owen had said, "Talk to Corey about what you're feeling. I'm sure you'll see that you're worrying for nothing." Jonah turned to his partner, who smiled, enthusiastically finishing his meal. "You have something on your mind?" Corey asked, as he took Jonah's hand, and linked fingers. "Corey, am I what you thought I would be? I've been yellin' at myself 'cause I'm afraid I've hurt you, by having sex with Owen awhile back. I've also got this thing in my mind which makes me want to have sex with every guy I see. Well . . . not Daniel, or Art n'those guys, but you know what I mean. The last thing in the world I want to do is to hurt you, but it's . . . I don't know. I know we've never spoken about monogamy, but . . . what is it you expect, cause if it's monogamy, I'm not sure I can do that." "This talk about monogamy is a side issue, isn't it? What you're really worried about is if I'm troubled by you having sex with Owen. Right?" Jonah bowed his head. "Yeah, sort'a. There's more, but that's the main thing. I don't want to hurt you, yet I feel like I might have, and you're just being too sweet to say anything, so you go 'round actin' like everything's okay, when you're being torn up inside." "Hey!" Corey chided, as he squeezed Jonah's hand. "Don't start talkin' about how I feel without checking with me first, okay?" "Yeah, I guess. So . . . are you torn up inside, 'cause of what Owen and I did?" "Nope." He turned to Jonah. "If you're not gonna eat that apple, I'll take it." "F'real?" "You know I like apples," Corey grinned, as he nudged the man at his side. "Sorry, but you're taking things way too seriously, and I've been eyeing that apple since we started eating." "I don't think so . . . about taking things too seriously, I mean." "I do, and, since we're talkin' about what I'm feeling, it's what I think that counts, so listen to me, and pay attention." "Okay." "I love you, Jonah. I am deeply, head-over-heels in love with you. At the same time, I understand that you're four years younger than me. You've only just discovered that you're gay, and it's only natural for a gay guy . . . any . . . gay guy, to want to get into everyone else's pants, especially when they've just discovered their sexuality. You're going through a natural phase of growing up. "I think the trouble is that you and I have never sat down, like we are, right now, and talked about what we expect from our relationship, monogamy-wise. Because we haven't, you're hurting, and attributing things to me that I don't feel. It's sweet of you to be worrying about my feelings so much, but, there's no need. I know exactly how you feel, 'cause I felt the same thing, when I was eighteen." "But . . ." Corey held up a hand. "First off, I am not upset, or hurt, or anything, by you having sex with Owen. Hell, Owen is a guy everyone wants to have sex with. He's doesn't fool around with just anyone, y'know. For instance, I've never had sex with him, as much as I'd like to. Same with Bailey and Riley. As far as I know, Owen has only had sex, real, fuck-me-like-you-mean-it sex, with three people, Lucas, Sam, and you. Owen shares his love freely, but not his body. "Oh, he'll hug n'kiss, n'join in during a group grope like that time in the shower, but that's it. I think if things, that time, had started to go beyond mere shooting a load, he'd have found a reason to leave. You n'Lucas, and Sam mean the world to him . . . more'n anyone else, and I can't see him sharing himself with anyone but you guys. "He didn't give in to raging hormones, or anything, that night you two had sex. The time was right, for you to get together. If it'd been anyone else in the room with him that night . . . anyone . . . me, Bailey, Riley . . . anyone . . . I can guarantee, Owen would never have even considered having sex with 'em. "And, as far as wanting to fool around with everyone . . . hell, Jonah, when I first got to school, I sometimes had sex with the same number of guys Owen has had in his life, in one freakin' morning!" He grinned. "I slowed down a lot . . . after the first three years, though. It took me so long, 'cause I wanted to make sure I knew all there was to know about what was fun, and . . . since I'm a slow learner, ahem . . . I figured I should prob'ly try lots'a guys, just to make sure I hadn't missed something." Corey nudged the man next to him. "That was supposed to be a joke. You can laugh now . . . or, at least grin. "Then, I met Riley, and things settled down, a little. Well . . . actually, a lot, though he and I often went our separate ways and did whatever we wanted, with whomever we wanted. We weren't lovers. We were good friends, who enjoyed having sex with each other. Riley's really a great sex partner, though he doesn't hold a candle to my lover. Now there's a man who it was worth waiting for! Lucky me! I'm in love with a top-guy, who's a sweetheart, and is cute as a bug. Oh, and he loves me back. How lucky can a guy get?" He playfully nudged Jonah's shoulder, causing him to smile and blush. "Did I mention, my lover's got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen?" Corey's voice lowered, no longer playful. "Jonah, you love sex, just like the rest of us guys do. As long as the guys you're having sex with are within our group, as far as I am concerned, you can do whatever you wish. I'll do the same. If either of us finds someone else we're interested in, let's let the other know, and maybe the two of us can have fun at the same time. That'd be cool. If we don't want to have a three-way-thing, we can at least talk about what we're thinking. That way, we won't pull any surprises on each other. Will that work for you?" "So, things are okay between us? F'real?" "Yes." The light inside the greenhouse faded, the glow of one bulb replacing that of the sun. "I'm horny," Jonah suddenly announced, as he stood and began shedding his clothes. He held up a finger, then turned and ran to the building's entrance, the muscles of his bare butt tightening with each stride. He locked the doors and jogged back to Corey, who had stripped and was happily munching on a lettuce leaf he'd plucked from a plant on one of the nearby growing tables. As Jonah approached, he grinned, and swallowed. "Y'don't spray these things with anything which is going to make my willy shrivel up, do you?" He glanced worriedly at his crotch, flipping his flaccid penis from side to side. "I had an uncle that happened to," he began, then absently made a toss away motion, postponing the story for another time. "So," he murmured, as Jonah pulled him into a tender embrace. "What'd'ya wanna do?" "Tell me a story about when you were young and horny." Corey stepped back, examining Jonah in the dim light. "I'll have you know, I'm still young, and I'm still horny, especially when I see you, running around naked n'all." "Good. Now, why don't you tell me a story about the good old days," he said, with a snicker. Jonah sat down, and leaned against one of the columns supporting the metal framework of the greenhouse roof. Corey laid on his back and rested his head on Jonah's lap, ignoring the erection which was pressed against his cheek. "Waaaay back, at the dawn of time, just after writing had been invented, I entered college," he began. "I waited till writing had come about, 'cause college didn't mean much without it, y'know? Anyhow, I was a scrawny, stick of a guy, something like you," he chuckled, "so I was spending a lot of time in the gym. I'd worked real hard, and had begun to bulk up. This was during my, I-wanna-fuck-around-with-everybody-who-had-a-dick, time of my life," he added. "Well, one night . . . it was late . . . there were two other guys in the weight room, plus me . . . James and Mark. They were trying to be super macho, talking about the girls who were just begging to be fucked, n'stuff. You know the way things are." Corey smiled, recalling his friends. "All the while, I was minding my own business, concentrating on my routine. I was bigger than either of the guys . . . muscle-wise, I mean," he added, after a brief pause, grinning up at Jonah. "The three of us had become friends, since I spotted for them n'stuff, though we never hung around together, or anything. They finished their sets and came over to where I was doing my thing, and asked if I had a girlfriend. I told 'em 'no', that I wasn't into girls." Corey laughed. "Well, the room got really quiet. When I returned my weights to the holder, they were lookin' at me like I'd sprouted horns, or something. 'What?!' I asked. 'Haven't you ever seen a gay guy before?' "'Um, not one who was as easy-going about it as you,' Mark said. 'You really like doin' stuff with guys, tasting their spunk n'all?' he asked. "'Sure, especially if I get to suck it right from the source,' I answered. "I never was a guy to mince words," he chuckled, pausing to suck on Jonah's finger, when it paused, as it moved across his lips. "'Those guys . . . um . . . you let 'em cum in your mouth? And, you swallow it?' James asked, sounding as if he couldn't imagine such a thing. "'Yes. And . . . it . . . tastes . . . fuckin' . . . good.' "'Y'let guys . . . ahem . . . y'know . . . .' "'Fuck me?' "'Yeah, that. Do you?' James asked, sort'a squirming, and trying to hide his erection. Corey turned his head to the side and licked Jonah's erection. "Nice," he murmured. His wink caused Jonah to grin. "'Yeah,' I told 'em. 'Not everyone's into fucking, though. However, I never met a guy who didn't like to shoot a load.' He looked up and grinned, when Jonah wiped a finger over his cock head, then smeared the pre-cum over Corey's lips. "Yum," he said, as he licked his lips. "Tasty." "'You're right about that . . . about loving to shoot loads, I mean,' Mark told me, as he groped himself. 'I don't think I'd wanna stick my dick into another guy, though,' he added, almost as an afterthought, turning to James to see his reaction. "'Do you just strip-off, bend over, and let someone stick it in . . . just like that? I mean, don't 'cha have something like foreplay, or something?' James asked, with a nervous laugh. Corey chuckled in recollection, and shook his head. "The poor boy never was the brightest bulb in the box. I did feel sort'a sorry for both of 'em, though. The two girls they were dating, prob'ly had a combined IQ of twelve." Jonah snorted. "I figured if I didn't do something, we'd stand there gabbing till the cows came home, so I skinned down to my jockstrap. I turned to Mark, the more daring of the two. "'Touch my chest,'" I ordered. 'My nipples. Easy, though, I might break.' Mark laughed nervously, then jumped slightly as James nudged him, urging him to do as I asked. He moistened his lips, then teased my nipple, jerking his finger back after the first touch. When he wasn't struck dead by lightning, or something, he started to feel daring, and placed his hand on one of my pecs." "This one?" Jonah teased, as he rubbed a hand over Corey's chest, pausing to tweak one of the nipples. Corey grinned, glancing from Jonah's hand to his face. "Yeah . . . that one." "'D'you like getting . . . fucked?' Mark asked, in a low voice. 'I'm not asking to do it,' he added quickly. 'I'd just like to see an asshole that's been fucked, is all.' "'How many guys' assholes have you seen which haven't been fucked?' James teased. Corey lay back, bent his knees, resting both feet flat on the floor, and sighed, as Jonah tenderly began to fondle his erection. "Mmmm, yeah," he sighed, looking up at his lover. "Y'know just how I like it." "So . . .?" Jonah murmured. "This Mark guy was feeling-up your chest. Go on." "'Would you show us your asshole?'" he asked. Corey laughed. "The poor guy was almost hyperventilating, he was breathing so fast. 'Neither James or I wanna push our dicks into you, but geez, touching you like this is turning me on, something fierce. It'd be way-cool if you'd show us your asshole and let us shoot a load on it.' "'Close-by, James did his best to stifle a groan, as he groped himself through his gym shorts, and grumbled about how horny he was. "Geez, but I was havin' fun," Corey said, watching Jonah, who was hanging on every word. "And you thought you were the only guy who likes to play around," he snickered. "Okay, okay," Jonah murmured. "So, finish your story, alright?" "'If you guys are gonna shoot a load, you need to strip-off,' I told 'em. "They sort'a looked nervous, but it didn't take 'em long, and they were starkers, their dicks sticking straight out. We were right there, in the middle of the weight room, naked as jay-birds. It was late, but even so, anyone could have walked in. That made it extra exciting, for me. I'm a little bit of an exhibitionist, y'know." "No! I never would'a guessed." Jonah laughed, in mock surprise, smiling when Corey made a face at him. "I'm surprised you didn't sell tickets, over at Mama's, the other night! I'm sure someone in the house would have paid . . . something . . . to see your bare butt." "As I fucked you?" "Yeah." "Well," Corey continued, settling himself more comfortably with Jonah's scrotum and erection against his cheek. He inhaled the scent of Jonah's crotch, plus the lingering hint of soap from the morning's shower. "Soon as I saw those guys, I wanted to suck 'em off, but that wasn't the deal, so I laid down on one of the floor mats and rolled back, pulling my knees to my chest. It was so awesome, feeling the cool air of the gym against my hot hole. But, that was nothing compared with the turn-on of exposing myself to a couple guys, and knowing they were 'bout ready to cover my butthole with their cream. "Both of 'em knelt close-by. You'd think they'd never seen a guy's hole before, they were so entranced. "'Touch whatever you want,' I told 'em." Corey laughed. "Well, ol' James . . . he's usually 'bout as confused as a cow on astroturf. He wasted no time. He sort'a nudged Mark aside, then reached out and cupped my nuts. "'Fuck,' he whispered, his eyes flicking from his hand to my face, then back, as my nuts shifted around. "'This is so freakin' sexy; it's not gonna take me any time to shoot.'" He hesitated, having a rough time looking me in the eye. "'Um, d'ya think it'd be okay if I push just the piss slit of my dick into you and shoot inside? This is so fuckin' hot.' "'James!' his friend said, sounding scandalized. "James looked over his shoulder. 'I don't know about you, but just dumping my sperm on his butthole isn't gonna do it for me. I wanna shoot inside him . . . if it's okay, I mean,' he asked, turning to me and wearing an anxious look." Corey laughed. "How could I say no? I mean, you know how much I love having things pushed up my hole." He glanced toward Jonah, who rolled his eyes in silent agreement. "Well, there I was, on my back, showing 'em my hole. Ol' James stood and straddled me. He bent his legs some and slowly stroked himself, as he rubbed the head of his dick back and forth over my hole. Ol' Mark had forgotten his complaining, and was kneeling close-by, using both of his hands to spread my cheeks wider, urging his friend on. "'Push as much as you want inside me,'" I told him. "'Don't worry 'bout hurting me; I can take it.'" Close-by, Jonah snorted. "If you can take Bruno, you can take anything." "Bruno, or you, my handsome lover," Corey said, as he stroked Jonah's erection. "I've never tried taking someone's fist, though." Jonah made a face, which quickly turned from distaste to calculation, before he silently urged Corey to continue, with an impatient hand motion. "It was so cool," Corey continued, from where he lay on his back, looking up at his lover. "From where I was laying, I could see ol' James' butt cheeks, his hefty nut sac, and that big ol' dick of his pointing right at my hole. By now, Mark had gotten daring, and was rubbing across my asshole with a finger, sort'a fighting with James' dick, to touch it. Well, finally Mark let James go at it. It was so cool to watch his legs sort'a tremble, as he mashed the head of that thing against my hole, then began to slowly press inside. "'Geez, you're really doin' it,' Mark murmured. 'Your dick head is about all inside,' he said, as he licked his lips. He sort'a hesitated as he ran a finger around my stretched hole, then toyed with his friend's dick and nuts. "'Ahhhh,' James groaned, loudly. His body was shakin'. You could tell he wanted to shove the whole thing in. His ass cheeks tightened, as he stroked all of his dick, which wasn't already inside me. 'Aw fuck, I'm close,' he grunted, tightening his fist around his cock. 'It's so fuckin' hot,' he whimpered. 'It's like a warm glove.' He pushed a little more, and I could feel the head of his cock slip inside. He didn't stop, though, like I thought he would. A moment later, his pubic hair was pressed against me. "'Whoa,' Mark murmured. "It was awesome, knowin' that it was the first time for James to slide into another guy. He was really into it, too. He'd slide in and out, just a little bit, then take a couple full-length strokes, which stretched me to my limits." Corey paused in his narrative. "You're thicker than him. It's a good thing I had more experience before meeting you; otherwise, I'd be squealing like a stuck pig every time you n'I play around." Responding to another hurry-up hand motion, he continued. "So, there he was, fucking me like a wild man. Then he paused a moment, and shivered. I could see his butt cheeks tighten and his dick pulse, an instant before he began filling me with his juice. "When his dick stopped jerking, he slowly pulled free. He scraped off the sperm from his dick, and spread it over my hole, which I could feel leaking. Then he flopped onto the mat, at my side. He'd look at me, then at his slimy cock. Y'could almost hear the thoughts tumblin' around in his head." Corey shivered with pleasure, as Jonah continued to slowly stimulate his erection. "I tell you. Watching James had cured Mark of any inhibitions. He suddenly got way-aggressive. I expected him to slide right in, but, instead, he pushed two fingers into me and felt around until he found my prostate. It was sort'a funny, watchin' him, with his tongue stickin' out the side of his mouth, as he stirred James' jiz around inside me, wearing a fierce look of concentration. But, geez, when he found my prostate and pressed, he 'bout caused me to lift off the friggin' floor. He massaged it for a few minutes, then offered me his two slimy fingers to clean. "'Y'better hurry up and plug him,' James told his friend, from close-by, 'or I'm gonna ask for seconds. I'm already hard again. Take it from me, you are not gonna believe what being inside him is like.' "Mark chewed on his lower lip, as he lined up his dick. Then, in one smooth movement, he pushed inside, his eyes widening, as he hit bottom. "'I never would'a guessed it would feel like this,' he muttered, looking at his friend, who was kneeling at my side, watching his friend fuck me. "'If you think that feels great, you should be on the receiving end,' I remember murmuring. Sheesh, but Mark pounded hard! Sweat was flyin' everywhere. He was grunting and groaning up a storm. Then he suddenly stopped, and threw back his head, and I knew he was pumping me full. "What I didn't expect, though, was when James knelt at my side and got me off, with his hand. It was so cool to see him examine his hand, covered with my sperm, then glance at me. "'Taste it,' I said. 'You've fucked a guy; now it's time to taste his juice.' "He took a couple moments to make up his mind, but finally extended his tongue and licked across the back of his hand, slurping up some of my stuff. "By now, Mark had pulled out. 'Me, too,' he said. He grabbed James' hand and quickly sucked his friend's fingers clean."
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