Sharing - 5. Chapter 4 - Mark

Sean: So I moved in. It was great. A beautiful apartment, a real kitchen to cook in and two handsome men at my beck and call. School was never much of an effort for me. I enjoyed the classes. I was footing most of my own bill, so needed to keep a job.

I had taken a part time job with a catering firm at the start of the semester. It was mostly working private parties. The ones thrown by local celebs paid the best. You wouldn’t believe what a shallow bunch they are – and that coming from a little queen like me. They would have this big shindig, invite all the local hotshots and fill in the crowd with what I call “the beautiful people”. I guess they were trying to impress themselves, but they hired these actor/artsy types to drape themselves around the room and be beautiful. The ‘beauties’ must have been told not to speak. Most of them just looked bored. They ate and drank pretty well. I admit to more than one flirtation, but I think that was to get me to bring them more booze.

At one of these parties, in honor of some avant garde artiste, the artiste’s sponsor had opened all the stops. It was held at a swank hotel’s rooftop garden. I think they were going for a Japanese theme – why I don’t know – the artiste was some local boy whose works looked like barf on canvas. In any case, the whole scene looked more geisha house than tea ceremony – particularly with the beautiful people in various, indiscriminate Asian attire. I guess that’s why I got the job to start with. Type casting, ah well. Perhaps next year I can crash the Mikado cast party. The point is there was one absolute stunner at the party. I’m guessing he either didn’t get the dress code, was some celeb’s ‘personal guest’ or just crashed since he was in black tie. At the beginning of the evening, I saw him get placed in an alcove by some old guy. It was clear that the old guy was giving him stern instructions, about what neither the stunner nor I paid any attention. The old guy dashed off to meet with someone ‘important’, leaving said stunner on his own. Not one to miss an opportunity for mischief, or to get closer to an outstanding lovely, I used my best waiter technique and brought him champagne. He accepted gratefully, after making sure the coast was clear of old guys. He stayed out of sight and managed to consume the steady supply of champers I kept coming.

I, sadly, was called to wait upon the assembled masses and lost track of the stunner for a while. During a lull, I tanked up a tray full of glasses and some little tidbits from the buffet for him. I was just crossing the room toward the alcove when I heard the old guy abusing our lovely in the most horrible terms. Our lovely slumped onto a settee at hand, distraught. He made a beautiful tableau of despair. The oldster, on spotting me, demanded to see my boss. I had a few moments of terror myself. A short while later, the boss man cornered me – again that sinking feeling. Fortunately, I was in no way associated with the young fellows debauch, but rather was charged to see to it he left the premises immediately.

“You want me, me, all of five foot four one hundred and twenty pounds me, to bodily toss this fellow out?” I inquired incredulously.

The boss man replied with some sarcasm, “No, I want you to take him home. This ‘do’ is about done anyway. You can take off early. Make sure he’s taken care of. Here’s some money for cab fare. Mr. Jacobs wants him out of here now.” Then in a manner the boss man mistook for entre nous’, “Apparently, this isn’t the first time Mr. Jacobs’s escort’ has over indulged and has become an embarrassment.”

I’m not one to miss the after party clean up – you know – all these rich folk’s parties, when you come down to it, for all the $5000 Armani suits and Rolexes, its just like any common garden variety frat house party. At the end, its cigarette butts floating in booze glasses and a couple of drunks in the corners.

Well, I had my drunk to attend to. So I took him down to the lobby and poured him into a cab. He was completely incoherent, so I rummaged in his pockets for some id. All I found were condoms in various flavors and sizes and some joints.

Mark: Hey, what ever happened to them. That was good shit.

Sean: (Rolling his eyes) Now I was stuck. What was I going to do with this lovely but blotto man?

Sean to the group: No snickering from you guys, if I was a top, I’d have had my way, but alas, I have a more receptive nature.

Sean: To resume my story…Ah yes. What was I going to do with this lovely but blotto man? Failing any better idea, I brought him home here. I managed to get him as far as the building and went in to call for help. Alas, only Tim was home – John was off at some supposed ‘client meeting’ – at 11:00 at night? I ask you. Some lucky client.

John: Hey, hey, I was free lancing on some restoration work and you know it. And I think if you include some telling of my contribution later on, it’ll prove I had only a professional meeting.

Sean: The world’s oldest profession? - Just teasing, dear. Now where was I?

Tim: We were hauling Mr. Blotto up the stairs.

Sean: Ah yes – so many interruptions. So we hauled, carried, coaxed the lovely up all those stairs and deposited him on the couch.

Now I know I described how handsome he was at the party. But here on the couch, in drunken disarray he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I mean, you could put him in a room with the world’s greatest paintings or on the world’s most spectacular scenic spot and the only thing you’d notice is him.

Tim: It’s true, I can tell you know what we mean – addressed to me, the Reporter – you can’t keep your eyes off of him either. I’d be jealous of him, but somehow I can’t help loving him.

Mark: Come on guys. Looking like this isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Sean: Do tell, dear one, do tell.

Mark: Well, I think John mentioned I’m trying to be an actor. To be honest, it’s not working out too well. (General sympathetic noises) One time last year I got a part in this play, a kind of British drawing room drama. It was just a bit part. I had to stand off to one side of the stage and pretend to be watching out a fake window for the fox hunters to return. I only had one line, so I didn’t have many rehearsals. But it was weird when I was at rehearsal. The leading man kept hitting on me and the leading lady kept insisting that the lighting should brighten on her and dim out on me..

John: Mark, don’t be so upset. You remember the review: ‘the one bright spot in this blighted production was a golden youth with a questionable accent. Still his heart felt delivery of his one line, ‘Yoiks, the hunters have returned.’ Did more to capture this reviewer’s heart than the meaningless prattling of the over age doyen and her tarted up leading man.’”

Mark: I guess so, the show only ran the one performance. After that I only got parts when I wore a costume.

Tim: But you were the best tomato that ever stood in front of the Food Town.

Mark: And I only got that job by boinking the store manager. He was pretty cute.

John: Hey! You weren’t getting enough at home?

Mark: Uh, oh yeah, I think you were away, at least I think so. Anyway, wasn’t Sean telling a story or something.

Sean: Indeed I was – before yet another interruption. I believe we had you passed out on the couch. Tim and I were standing, gazing down at my find when John came in. “What are you guys doing?” observing our entranced stare.

“Just looking at something that followed me home.”

John joined us. “He’s amazingly beautiful. Where’d he come from?”

“I was charged with seeing him home, but he’s in no shape to tell me where that is and I couldn’t find anything on him to indicate his address.”

“Poor lost puppy. Can we keep him?”

At that moment, the puppy came alive. “Where’s the bathroom, I gotta puke.”

Tim escorted him to the facilities. And now the damnedest part, even his vomiting noises are weirdly sweet. After significant exertions, the lovely came out of the bathroom, grinning sheepishly – and yet still endearingly – and leaned against the wall for support.

“What’s going on?” He speaks. Are these the dulcet tones his very being suggests, no demands? No! At last a flaw in his perfection. I detected a distinct Western influence. Most of his sentences ended on a high note, like a question, even when not a question.

“And, uh, where am I?”

John: “You are in our apartment. Sean, here” I indicated Sean” brought you back from a party.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you. You brought me all those drinks. Thanks, man. Mr. Jacobs, he’s the man whose been taken care of me, well he wasn’t very happy with me – well he did catch me doing it with the guy who brings in groceries and stuff. Mr. Jacobs, he told me to stay put, don’t talk to anyone and don’t, absolutely don’t have anything to drink. I guess I got carried away at another party and went home with someone else. I don’t see why Mr. Jacobs was upset, that’s how we met, anyway. Did I do that again?”

I put an arm around the lovely’s shoulders and led him to sit on a couch. “I’m John, you’ve met Sean, and this is Tim. What’s your name?”

“Oh, heck, I’m Mark. Mr. Jacobs wanted everyone to call me Marcus. He even sent me to speech classes so I could sound like a Marcus. I guess I’m just Mark and will only ever be Mark.”

“Where’s your home?”

Mark’s lovely smile faded, distress came to mar his lovely features. “I guess I don’t have a home. I’ve been living at Mr. Jacobs’ house for a couple of months. Before that I just kind of crashed with whoever took me home from the party.” Distress was replaced by shame.

I searched Mark’s face. “Look, we don’t judge you. How did all this start?”

Mark continued his explanation, “I came to the city to try to be a dancer. Everyone back in my hometown, in Wyoming, said I had to try. I grew up on a farm with my grandparents. Here’s a picture of them.”

He got a picture from an inside pocket. It showed a weathered couple in front of a tired farm house and barn. Just off to one side stood a small boy. The boy was as glowing and beautiful as the rest were gray and worn. Mark in his youth.

Mark: I was never much good at farm stuff. My grandparents loved me – my mom moved away when I was small and I never knew my dad – so they didn’t make many demands of me. I was never much good in school, either, but at sports, I could do about anything. I didn’t really practice much, I could just throw, catch, hit, run better than anyone. And then this dance teacher came to town. She saw me out on the ball field once and then came to see my grandparents. She told them I had ‘natural talent’ and that she thought I should take lessons with her. My dance teacher, Miss Michelle, she took me to Casper to see a ballet. There was a company from back East travelling around putting on shows. As I sat in that theatre watching those boys and girls dancing, I knew I found what I wanted to do. My grandparents never had much money, but they paid for lessons and I danced and danced. When I finished high school, everyone told me I had to come to the city to keep dancing, there not being any future in that back home. So I decided I’d come here and join up. I got on a bus and got here a few days later. I went straight to the ballet company building and went in to sign up.

Then things didn’t go so well. The reception people told me to wait and made some phone calls. A long while later, a lady came down and asked me what I wanted. I told her I wanted to dance in their company. She gave me kind of a ‘look’, and told me to wait some more. Then a man came to see me. He was a lot nicer. He told me that they normally hold auditions once a year and that was a while back. But he said, since I had come all that way, he’d see what he could do. I waited some more. Then the man came back and took me to a big dance studio. At one end a couple of people sat in chairs. The man asked me some questions about my dance training. They weren’t happy when I told them all about Miss Michelle. They told me that the wanted more formal training and they would be happy to consider me at the next audition – in June.

I didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t have a back up plan. I thought I’d get into the company and didn’t think of any other possibility. But there I was, out on my ass with about twenty-five dollars, not knowing a soul, not knowing really where I was. I just sat down on the curb outside the ballet place and tried not to cry.

Tim: I know what that’s like.

Mark: A little while later the man who was nice to me came out. He spotted me and invited me back to his place. He had big plans – but that didn’t work out either he was a bottom, too.

Make fun if you want – in response to the laughing of the group - you know you city guys think us bumpkins don’t know anything about sex, but you’ve got it all wrong. The farmyard is like continual sex. I only had to see a bull mount a cow once to know what it was I wanted. That’s powerful stuff. I never had a real boyfriend, just some good old boys whose balls were overloaded. It worked out well for all of us.

Reporter: The picture most of us have of rural America is pretty hard on gays. It doesn’t sound like that was your experience.

Mark: I guess I was lucky. The town I grew up in was real small. We all knew each other from birth and by the time I got to playing around, folks either loved me for who I was or didn’t – and nothing I did was going to change that.

Back to the story. We did manage to entertain ourselves overnight and by the next morning he told me about how some of the guys from the ballet helped make ends meet by going to parties. That afternoon, the man – his name was Phillip, not Phil, not Phillis, but Phillip – took me to this big house where I met Terrance, not Terry, not Terr-ible, but Terrance. Terrance gave me the once over and dragged me to some stores and bought me a complete outfit – shoes to hat. And that night, Terrance took me to a party out on a boat that cruised around the harbor. The boat wasn’t the only thing cruising. It was kind of fun and this nice guy, don’t think I ever knew his name, took me home. And that’s pretty much the way it went until I met Mr. Jacobs.

That was kind of weird. Mr. Jacobs didn’t ever want to do anything with me. He took me to parties, introduced me to all his friends, but mostly he just wanted me to be in the same room as him so he could look at me. I tried to heat him up a few times, but nothin’ doin’. When I got real frustrated I’d sneak in some action with a delivery boy or one of the other guys at the parties, but Mr. Jacobs kept pretty close tabs on me. He bought me nice things to wear, but kept everything in his own room – locked up. Every day, he’d get out clothes for me to wear, watch me shower and dress. Sometimes he did breathe kind of heavy, but he never really touched me.

So you can imagine the state I was in when I came to here, there were these three gorgeous guys looking at me and the first thing I got to do is puke.

John calmed me down. Sean made me something to eat. Tim stared at me.

Tim: Still my favorite past time, well almost.

Mark: John suggested I call my grandparents and let them know where I was. I felt really bad for not calling them in so long, but somehow I never felt right talking to those decent people. Somehow, being with these guys, it was different. When I called, my grandma answered with a “praise the lord”. I told her that things hadn’t gone as planned and I was still trying to figure things out. I think John overheard her asking if there was a number they could reach me at. He quickly wrote this phone number on a piece of paper and slid it across the table to me, shaking his head yes. Wow, with all of the guys I had been with, none had treated me like a human being with family. This sure was different. I kept the call short and sweet and promised to call again.

After the call, John asked if I’d like to get a shower, gave me toothbrush – I found out later he’s very economy minded and buys things in bulk and changes his toothbrush every week – and sent me into a bedroom with a bathroom. It was nice showering without some old guy leering at me.

John: We three sat around figuring out what to do. I thought he was pretty messed up, living from party to party, man to man. Not really hooking, but close.

Sean wanted to keep him, since he didn’t have a home and was lost and all that other stuff. “Can’t I keep him, can’t I? I promise to feed him and take him on walks.”

I reminded Sean that Mark was a person, not a pet, though I admit he does seem to need petting. Now that I think about it, he’s always snuggled up against one of us, like a big horny house cat.

Tim wanted to keep him just to pose around the house so he could drool. I’d have been jealous, but I still catch myself just staring at him.

It had been a while, we could hear that the shower had stopped, but Mark had not come back out. We all three went to the door, opened it to see Mark on all fours, naked of course, and beckoning.

Mark: I told you it had been a long time and I was gonna get me some.

Sean: We held a little conference, right there, Tim and I. “What do you think?

Could this be the answer to what John’s been missing?

“Worth a shot.”

“He seems willing enough – eager even.”

“I don’t blame him there.”

John didn’t wait for us to continue. He went over to Mark and sat beside him on the bed. “You don’t have to do this. We don’t have any expectations, you know. You’re welcome to stay here, no strings.”

Mark: I was touched by John’s generosity and kindness, but I really wanted to get touched by his dick. Plowed, actually.

Tim: Shy, Mark is not. He pushed John back onto the bed, all but ripped his clothes off. He clearly knew his way around a cock and balls. John was hard in a minute and Mark mounted him, taking all that luscious cock inch by inch. It must be his cowboy roots, but Mark rode John like a bronco. Sean and I just watched, pulling our puds. It was so hot. And John, he was on another planet, planted deep inside that beautiful ass. Mark was leaking like crazy and shot a load onto John’s chest a few seconds before John started bellowing and cumming. Damnation.

When things had calmed down a bit, I crawled up next to John’s face and asked, “Well do you think we can keep him?” John really can’t speak when he’s just orgasmed, but he did manage to squeak out, “If he wants to stay, I’m into him – it.” And he still was, balls deep.

We played together all night, enjoying all kinds of new combinations and uses of body parts. At some point we all fell asleep, at least the bed stopped shaking. I only woke up when the sun came in the window in the morning. I remember feeling very happy and a little sore. I sat up to look at my still sleeping lovers. John was splayed diagonally across the bed. Sean lay with his head on John’s stomach and John’s balls in his hand. Sean’s other hand still had a hold on my cock. Nice. But something seemed to be missing. It took me a minute, but when I saw John’s very tired looking cock draped across his thigh I remembered – Mark! Where was he?

I got up and crossed to the bathroom – needing to pee. I opened the door to find Mark scrubbing the bathtub.

“I woke up full of energy this morning and it looked like things could use some cleaning.”

I stood shocked. Sean and John had heard Mark’s voice and had begun to wake up. I shouted to them, “You guys get up. You gotta see this.”

They managed to stumble across the room. On coming to the open door they gasped. You see when Mark cleans a room, it’s not just clean, it sparkles, like an ad for a cleaning product.

Mark explained. “You know, most folks think of a farm as a dirty place full of dirty animals. Not on your life. We had some dairy cows on our farm. That meant agriculture department agents coming by and checking to make sure things were clean and safe. And my granddad, he was even more particular than the agent. Our barn and farmyard were spotless, every minute of every day. When ‘shit happens’, you clean it up. I guess some of that rubbed off on me.

John looked stunned and just mumbled, “I’m in love.” We all agreed. Mark had moved into our hearts, not just our apartment.

That’s the way it was for a long while. Two bottoms and two tops. Mark was happiest sitting on someone’s cock, even to watch TV. He’d start by sitting next to you, playing with your cock and balls, casual-like. Once you were hard, he’d just plop down on your cock and wriggle away. He doesn’t try to make you cum – not all the time. I think he just likes the way it feels.

Sean: I’m into getting fucked, but this boy, he lives for it. He’s a pretty big boy, himself, not as big as John, and even as much as he loves getting sucked – like who doesn’t – and general making out – he’s into getting, not giving. As I said earlier, in desperation, he’ll even give me a go.

I thought we were all pretty happy, and for the most part we were. We got an even bigger mattress for the ‘kennel’ so we could all sleep – and whatever – together when we wanted and that was most of the time. We have to wash the sheets a lot, but it’s definitely worth it. But every then and again, Johnny would cry out in his sleep. He always just told us he was having a bad dream, but we all thought there was more to it. Tim was the first to notice that John’s dreams seemed to come on nights that Tim had topped him. Now, Timmy’s more than enough for me, but I got to thinking John wanted, needed more.

Mark: Yeah, there’s no hunger like butt hunger.

John: Now be fair, I always appreciated you fucking me.

Tim: Yes, you were most appreciative, but as our lovely says, there’s no hunger like butt hunger. So it was time for another conversation about what to do about John’s butt hunger.