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Friday Scott had the movie ready by the time I got home. I didn’t have to work, so I was home from class by four and Scott and I waited awkwardly for Dylan to get home from his last study group. “It’s amazing,” Scott said. “You’re gonna love it. You look like a total stud, I’m telling you.” “Cool,” I said, but the whole thing made me feel kind of embarrassed. I’d fucked in front of another guy before, but there’d never been evidence, afterward, and the idea of horny Scott sitting at his computer editing close ups of my dick made me feel weird, to put it mildly. I had never had much to say to the guy, anyway, and now it felt twice as strained between us. Finally, I heard Dylan’s bike pull up. “He’s here!” Scott sang, meeting Dylan at the door with the flash drive in his hand. “That it?” Dylan smiled, looking much more relaxed about the whole thing than I felt. “Should we eat dinner first?” He’d brought burgers, and I tried not to wolf the food down, but it seemed like we all ate pretty fast and before I knew it, Dyl was clearing the table and saying, “Alright, man. Let’s see this cinematic opus of yours.” “It’s outstanding, if I do say so myself,” Scott grinned, setting up the laptop in the middle of the kitchen table. It was amateur, for sure, but Scott was right; it was incredible. It was, I think, maybe the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, because it was every good part of our fuck session minus all the un-sexy details, like when I farted or when Dyl had to stop for a minute to take a piss break. The clumsiness when we developed cramps or when we switched positions was all edited out, and our different angles blended beautifully into one another. Also, we looked fantastic. I looked much more muscular than I really am, and my dick looked gigantic. Dylan looked like a Greek god on film, and his cock looked bigger, too, than it did in real life. We’re pretty fit, so when we bang there’s not a lot of fat jiggling or anything, but Scott had captured close ups of my cock penetrating Dylan, my balls slapping at him with every thrust, and he captured the cum shots, too, masterfully. I was so turned on my hands were shaking before the thing was halfway through, but I sat on them and tried to stay cool. “What’d you think?” he asked, when it was over. “I did a great job of editing it, yeah? It’s sort of my masterpiece.” “You rock,” I said, but I felt lightheaded and breathless and my dick was so hard it hurt. “You rock,” Dylan said, and when I looked over at him he was staring at my crotch. “Rock,” he repeated, and then he looked up at me and that’s all it took. “I’m turning in,” I said quickly, getting up fast and heading to Dyl’s room, and he added, “I’m tired too,” scrambling after me. “Hey, wait,” Scott complained. “Are you guys gonna go mess around?” I locked the door quickly behind Dyl’s back, and he was already unbuckling my jeans, already kissing my mouth desperately. “Are you guys gonna fuck?” Scott was whining from the other side of the door, banging on it with his fist. “You’re goddamn right we are,” Dylan replied, yanking off his jeans. “Go away, Scott.” It was ridiculously intense. Instead of foreplay, we used lube, and I entered Dyl with urgency, hardly able to hold off long enough to come inside him. He fucked my ass next, also using lube instead of patience, and he had an almost identical experience. Five minutes later, we’d both just ejaculated, but we were both still hard, our insatiable dicks wanting more, more, more! “Come on, guys,” Tüyap escort bayan Scott still begged, pounding on the wall. “Let me in there with you.” “Ignore him,” Dylan panted, and I sucked him hard until he almost came again. “I need to fuck you more,” he mumbled, both of us lost the eroticism of the whole evening. “I need to fuck someone,” Scott pounded on our door. “Go away!” Dylan yelled at him, licking at the end of my long cock while he plowed into me hard and jerked my hard-on with the hand he wasn’t using to hold me against him. I exploded again soon, feeling my ass thumping on his cock right in time with the flexing spasms of my ejaculation. I blew him, then, using my mouth and both hands to bring him to a big orgasm that made him yell my name, but we couldn’t sleep, even then, still couldn’t relax. Our dicks were spent and soft, but we weren’t satisfied and by two in the morning we were on each other again, rutting like dogs, spanking and licking and thrusting like our lives somehow depended on it, barking periodically at Scott to leave us alone, to stop pounding on the door or the wall. Dylan wept when he came, some weird misery overtaking his brain instead of the happy chemicals a good blast usually washed him in, and my orgasm was physically painful, stabbing cramps in my lower abdomen and scrotum accompanying the ejaculation, but finally we were satiated and could be done. “Dammit,” Dylan cursed. “That was wonderfully awful, eh?” “We must never watch it again,” I said, my voice intentionally monotone to make Dylan laugh. “I agree,” he replied in the same voice. “It is toxic to our systems.” “At least we have each other,” I sighed. “I feel kind of sorry for Scott.” “Don’t start,” he warned. “Give that guy an inch…” “You mean ten?” I teased, “You mean my big ten inches?” He laughed, pulling me to him, “Oh honey,” he muttered, “You know it’s not ten inches, right?” “Not right now,” I laughed, looking at my poor dick. It was so exhausted, it was practically crawling up inside itself. “This is too hard on us, bro,” Dylan said. “Seriously, no more of that movie.” “You’re a porn star,” I stroked his chest. “My lover is a porn star.” “Mine too,” he smiled, and when he kissed me goodnight it was so sweet, so loving, that I wrapped myself all around him and when we woke up in the morning, I was still holding him like that, as close as humanly possible. Saturday I got home from work right behind Dylan; I could tell because his motorcycle was still hot when I parked mine next to it, the fan still ticking and the pipes still emanating waves of warmth. When I opened our door, Dyl was standing in the foyer staring out into the living room, where Scott lay naked on the couch, masturbating. Our tape was playing and I heard it end, heard Dylan’s recorded voice say, “Turn it off now, bro. It’s over” but Scotty slapped at the keyboard and the film started again, with my voice saying, “Hey man,” He didn’t even look at us while he furiously beat off, but he grunted and moaned as semen spit out of him in wet spurts onto our coffee table and onto his computer screen and keyboard. “Quite the show,” I muttered quietly to Dylan. “Maybe we should just fuck the poor thing.” “Hi guys,” Scotty waved at us from the couch, wiping at his laptop with tissues from the box on the end table. “How was work or school, or whatever?” “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dylan scolded. “You’re like some weird perv.” “What’d you expect Tüyap escort me to do with it?” Scott smiled, not bothered by Dyl’s insult. “Why do you think I wanted to make the thing?” “Delete it,” Dylan ordered, and that bummed his friend out, big time. “Seriously, bro?” Scott’s voice sounded high and small. “C’mon, man.” “Delete it,” Dylan demanded again, firmly, and I could have sworn I saw Scott’s lip quiver, like maybe the thought of losing that tidbit of porn made him almost cry. “Fine,” he said, getting mad. “Who needs you two queers, anyway.” He slammed the laptop closed, but Dylan was over by him and picked it up before Scott was able to get a good hold on it. Dyl opened it, angrily hit some keys, and yanked out the flash drive while Scott pouted sullenly on the couch. “Fine,” Scott repeated, when Dylan handed him back his computer. “Faggot.” “You better shut up now,” Dylan threatened, and his tone snapped Scott out of his snit because it probably occurred to him Dylan could totally kick his ass. “I loved it,” Scott tried, changing his whole demeanor like little kids do when they’re pleading for a toy. “I loved imagining I was with you guys.” “We get that,” Dyl snapped. “We’ve listened to this shit all week. When you gonna drop it?” “When you guys introduce me to the wondrous world of boy-on-boy,” Scott smiled, “on-boy.” He was trying to look sweet and it worked, apparently, because that made Dylan chuckle. “We did, bro,” Dyl reminded him. “We performed for you, right up close and personal. I wouldn’t do that for anybody but you, you know.” “I know, dude,” Scott nodded. “But all it did was make me want it more.” “Why don’t you go have your own experiences?” Dylan argued. The tension was gone, so I hung up my helmet in the hall and walked the rest of the way into the apartment, but I could still hear the conversation as I headed into the kitchen to start dinner. “How ‘bout we take you to some clubs or something, and introduce you around?” “I don’t even know if I’m gay,” Scotty reasoned. “I just want to try it with you guys, you know? It’s not like I look at other guys and get hard. Just you.” “Just me?” Dylan asked, and he and I shared a look even though I was all the way in the kitchen and bent over at the refrigerator. “I meant you like both of you,” he corrected. “I’m not trying to break you guys up, bro, but I can’t help it you guys make me so hot.” Sunday We took Scott out for dinner but he insisted on no place fancy, since we’d been cooking for him all week and also taking him out most nights for expensive steaks or seafood. We ended up heading to the greasy spoon where I wait tables because the food there, believe it or not, is outstanding. “It’s the best kept secret in town,” Dylan smiled. I think even if I’d drop out of school to be a full-time waiter, Dylan’d still find a way to feel proud of me. Scott was looking around uncomfortably because the place was a little shabby and not the cleanest, certainly, which all the loyal patrons (mostly truckers) had all learned to overlook. “Just try it,” Dyl sighed, sounding somewhat irritated. “That’s what I keep saying to you guys,” Scott was on it again. “Why can’t we just try it?” “Ay, yi, yi, you’re a broken record,” Dyl rolled his eyes. “We’ve tried it, alright?” he said. “I told you, man. We’ve done three-ways.” “I haven’t tried it, though, bro,” Scott explained, yet again. “It’s not fair to let me watch you and let me film you, and then not let me Escort Tüyap in on it. Can’t you let me try it in a safe environment, you know, with guys who give a crap about me?” I was sitting on the same side of the booth as Scotty, and I saw Dylan slip me a look, quick like a blink. He was intrigued after all. I moved a little closer to Scott, who was looking at me imploringly, because apparently he thought I was the one who had to be convinced, even though I didn’t care, really, either way. “I could come right now,” Scott sounded like he was begging. ‘I’m that hard. Seriously,” he said, indicated his crotch under the table, and I reached over and moved my hand on it. “He’s not lying,” I reported to Dylan, who smiled a big white smile and suggested, “Why don’t you put that guy out of his misery.” “What’s that mean?” Scott asked, by I was already unzipping his khaki’s and getting my hand in there. He wore those tight boxer briefs and there was a wet spot on the fabric. “Got some moisture,” I told Dyl, who leaned his head against the side of the booth, relaxing, and said, “Yeah?” My hand was under the material, then, and Scott’s dick was in my hand. “Un-cut,” I announced, but Dylan shrugged because he already knew that, and he nonchalantly waved away our waitress because no one at our table was thinking about refills right then. “Bigger than yours,” I mentioned, and Dylan made an interested face. “Is he now?” he smiled. “ I didn’t notice that.” “It’s challenging to get a good look at him when his hands are on it,” I explained, “and, as you know, his hands are always on it. It’s smaller than mine, though,” I added and Dyl pretended to make a frowny face even though that wasn’t news to him, either. “He’s right in between us.” “That’s right where he wants to be,” Dylan chuckled. Scott was red-faced and panting, his eyes glued to his pecker in my hand. “Isn’t that right?” Dylan repeated. “You want your cock to be right in between my cock and his, don’t you?” I was stroking his nice dick this whole time, of course, and smearing his slimy precum all around on his cockhead, and I felt it flex when Dylan said that, so I nodded at Dyl to go beneath the table and finish the guy off, but Dyl shook his head. I nodded at him again, even muttered, “C’mon, bro,” moving my head to indicate the guys raging hardon, but that time Dylan accompanied his head shake with an incredulous expression. “I’m not going under there,” he laughed. “No way,” and I was like, “Come on, dude,” and he laughed even more. “It’s filthy down there,” he protested. “You do it.” I didn’t want to get down there, either, because I knew first hand how disgusting the floors were under the tables at this diner, so I wet my hand, instead, licking it in a sexy way instead of hockering into my palm ala Brokeback Mountain, and almost the moment my slippery palm grasped Scott’s dick it exploded. He whimpered a little because we were in public and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, but cum spattered his face and throat and the neck of his shirt and kept oozing, even after that, out onto my hand. I laughed, then, and so did Scott, but his was a breathless, nervous laugh because he didn’t understand what Dyl and I were up to. I flicked some of the jiz off his cheek and reached across the table to Dylan, who licked it hungrily off my finger. I swiped another gob off his throat and ate that myself before explaining it all to Scott, who gaped at us, open-mouthed. “We’re in,” I told him. “It’s on.” “So was that like an audition?” asked Scott, whose eyes remained large, even during the cab ride home. “Did I pass some sort of test?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Dylan scoffed from the front seat. “Jesus. What do you think we are?” “I think you’re guys who fuck guys,” Scott replied.

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