How the Heart Approaches what it Yearns - 4. Day Four

Day Four

Filling the coffee filter, I had a boner. I was thinking about the beach scene: Tony rising from the water, rubbing his hole for me through my man's trunks, and more broadly of the last few days. Of the fantasy of taking him in an airport stall, and making him cum hands-free with my dick and vibrators. It all arose from an honest desire to help him, and to make him mad with passion for me, and for more than just me.

Five days. His visit will be over soon, and today is the centerpiece event of the stay, for today my Tony is twenty-three years old, and I had a special celebration in mind, that's why I let him sleep in.

Like any five-act stage piece, the parts unfold in a regular and well-established rhythm. An introduction, a development, and an Act Three where the most important revelations are made. But the fourth act? In many works, this act – or in my case, this day – is treated like an interlude. Like a quiet moment to catch one's breath and wait for the inevitable desiderata to shape the nature and tenor of the fifth and final Act.

'How the Heart Approaches what it Yearns,' that's the name of the song from yesterday, and today's Fourth Act was pinned by it. How would I approach Tony with the message I needed to convey to him: a simple one, but one he needed to 'feel' with both heart and mind was the obvious one for him. For all it meant to me, was love strong enough to save him, to liberate him from the fear in which he dwelt? Fourth Acts suck….

"Good morning," a sleepy boy intoned from the doorway.

"Hi kid. Sit, or piss, or come here and kiss me," I said.

He shuffled in bare feet into my open arms, but instead of locking lips on mine, his head landed on my shoulder, face turned away from me, and his arms locked tightly around my lower back. I rocked him, feeling his cozy fresh-from-bed warmth seep into me. I kissed the nape of his neck.

"Happy birthday," I whispered.

A choking sound replied for him: "I don’t want to leave…."

Tears came to my eyes instantly, and I was glad he could not see them. After another moment of quiet swaying, I slapped his ass, hard. "Go piss, and get ready for breakfast."

He let loose of me, turned shoulders and departed the room without a glance; our cocker spaniel trailing his sad retreat.

"Yes," I said out loud. "Act Four always sucks."

˚˚˚˚˚

As he left the house, my partner asked me what Tony wanted to do for his birthday. "Whatever he wants" had been my slick retort. Then he kissed me and pulled me by the waist into his low tone: "Save some for me, ok?" My dick grew against his thigh, and he knew he could always have whatever he wanted from me.

I drove Tony up to McLaren Park. As the dogs ran around the duck pond making new friends, I strolled with my boy.

Tony looked concerned. "You do love me, don't you?"

I swallowed down all doubt. "Yes, I do."

"But, your partner...?"

"I have loved him, and continue to love him, I always will. But love isn't a one-chance thing. If two people connect, like us, then we were meant to connect. That's what I believe."

We came up to the spot that looks like a patio elevated over the branches of the thick eucalyptus trees. Two guys were there, both Latino. A smaller one was leaning his back against the railing, and a bigger one had his back to us. He was pressing his body full into the smaller guy, whose arms were tightly gripping his bigger form. They were passionately kissing: eyes closed, mouths wide open. The little guy saw us and instantly pushed his lover back.

Continuing on our way, I told Tony: "This is a cruising spot. Closeted guys come here to deal with feelings they like to tell themselves don’t matter. Don’t ever be like them, kid. What you feel is not 'lust,' as they tell themselves – it's love, and it matters. Don’t squander your gift of it, because you were given it for a reason."

My boy's slightly agape mouth told me I had instantly upset him. But I had made him think too, and that was the point.

˚˚˚˚˚

"What's for dinner tonight?" Tony asked as we got home.

"What you asked for, baby."

"When did I say?"

"In an email. You said Italian was your favorite, so I'm making you my mom's special-occasion spaghetti. Got it?"

He pressed his form into me, and unlike in the morning, his lips led the charge. I opened my mouth and let his tongue have its way with me. He squeezed the back of my head, and my hands slipped up his shirt to his nipples. I brushed over both of them at the same time and he panted. I pushed him back, just enough to hold his gaze.

"You want your present now?" I slid my hand along the line of his stiff cock hugging his inner thigh.

He moaned, and kissed me. "Hell yeah."

"Go upstairs. Get ready. I'll join you in a jiffy."

After he left, I went to the refrigerator. A pair of champagne bottles crowded the top shelf. I took one down. I also fetched a quart of strawberries, and a fresh bottle of chocolate syrup, the kind just perfect for drizzling.

I made up a tray: two crystal 'bowls' for the bubbly – the flutes are no good people! With the bowls, the bursting froth of the effervescence unfolds under your nostrils as it was intended; it's part of the pleasure of drinking it. And champagne bowl glasses slosh a bit, and make the art of clean up a dizzying affair as hands stroke otherwise off-limits areas. Lovers know.

The berries went into a glass bowl the color of red wine, and the syrup into a large bud vase. The remainder got poured into a china dish. Yes, we'd have fun with this.

Going upstairs, the tray in hand, I had to balance the heavy weight of the bottle against the pendulous boner in my jeans.

I stood at the threshold of my bedroom. As I hoped, Tony had repeated his actions of the day before, and brought the lube and some toys of his choosing from downstairs.

He stretched out on our indigo coverlet wearing the t-shirt I had laid out for him on his arrival, and a pair of black boxer briefs. These hugged his thighs, his bulge, and his firm backside in tight wet-looking smoothness.

I set the tray on the edge of the bed and sat. He came up to sit on the other side of the tray.

"Are we eating...?" he asked innocently.

I ignored that question for the moment. "You wanna pop your cork…or…should I?"

"Pop it for me, Daddy."

In a moment I held a crystal bowl to his lips. His hand came up to mine to take it from me, but I held it and tipped it towards his nose. His neck bent his Adam's apple a bit towards me, then he made a scrunchy face. He gently pushed my hand back. "It tickles!" he laughed.

I poured the rest past his lips and he stroked my hand.

Tony took the bottle and poured me a glass. He held it to my mouth, and I drained it. We drank several more glasses in peace, then my boy reached for a strawberry.

"Oh no," I said. "You can eat that in a minute, but not now."

Tony swallowed hard. The erection in his shorts was bursting through, so I took his glass and set both of them on the tray, and shifted the tray out of the way.

I knelt on the bed and my prince joined me. Our lips met, and his kisses tasted like crisp apples and honey. I pressed his ass towards my cock and our members met though our clothes. My hand slipped over his silky abdomen and in between it and the elastic waistband of his shorts. I felt the stubble of his pubic area where he shaved himself clean, and deeper onto the shaft of his dick.

His hands pulled off my shirt, then worked at my jean buttons, one-by-one popping them free so he could expose me. His delicate but strong fingers pushed down on the denim waistband and let my cock bounce up into his grip. He teased the head and I groaned into his mouth. I cupped his balls still trapped in his tight pants, and pulled them straight up. Tony stiffened, straightening his spine, driving his roaring nuts hard into my hand.

"Know what the chocolate is for?" I baited breathlessly into his mouth.

"Uh-uh." He played along.

"I'll show you."

I half stood, shaking off the shackles of my clothes, and guided him to bend his chest over the sheets.

I positioned myself behind his raised ass. I kissed his back, tracing my tongue straight down along his spine. His hand came back to grab onto mine, and I saw he was still wearing my mood ring, and it made me go crazy.

At the place where his soft alabaster skin was interrupted by elastic, I let my tongue pause in one soft spot, to suck, to draw and raise the skin, while I pulled down his shorts. The pressure of the growing hickey at the base of his spine did what I knew it would – drove him fucking nuts.

His hand flailed to find my head and stroked it and pulled my hair. He sighed when I stopped, but gasped as my newly freed tongue slid straight down his butt crack. I pulled his cheeks wide and aimed for his pink hole. A glorious sight, that pleasure spot of my boy untouched by any hands but mine, by any tongue but mine, and un-cum into, except by me, the one who loved him dearly.

I licked around that opening; it convulsed, first closing up a bit, then relaxing and expanding to get more and more of my lapping.

"Stay put," I said. "And no peeking."

Tony grunted and I fetched the vase of chocolate. I held it delicately above the spot where the red flesh of his new hickey was blossoming, and tipped it. The cool sent a shock through my prince, but he only lowered his ass, spreading his hole and knees wider to my advance.

I spread the syrup around with my lips, and used my tongue to guide some of it to the edge. It slipped over like a stream forming a mini waterfall, and washed his ass crack in chocolate. He moaned as the coolness slipped down over his sphincter like a shard of ice.

I used my hot breath to let him know what was coming next. I stuck my tongue in his love-button and drove the syrup deep inside. I tongue-punched him several times, spreading the mess into a current of sweetness going into his already-sweet posterior.

"Up," I told him. "Taste."

He elevated himself, showing some difficulty, for my plan was working. From behind, I turned his head into my lips and he gaped and panted as he cleaned my mouth and palate of his own ass and syrup. I gently guided him back down.

I brought up the dish with the chocolate, and the berries too. With one hand I spread his crack above his hole, and with the other I dipped a perfect size strawberry into the unctuous and creamy liquid. I pressed the berry tip against his portal and again a sigh and release of tension allowed the berry to slip in. The chocolate pooled around his 'lips,' and lapped it up. I withdrew the strawberry, and leaned full force against my boy; my cock riding his crack. I took that berry to his lips, and upside down as we were, our tongues came out to meet it, and each other, over the chocolate. I pressed it into his lips and he took a bite. I ate the rest, and as we chewed, we kissed again and the flavors were rich and mellow; spicy and mild; yes, like the taste of passion itself.

I applied pressure on his hip and sent his ass crashing to the bed. I flipped him over so his cock was pointing right at my mouth. I kissed the tip and watched as Tony locked hands behind his head.

I grabbed the bottle. I took a swig and set it down. I did not swallow. The bubbles split open on my palate and sent the pleasantly searing gas though my nose. I hovered over his dick and pressed my lips to his head. I opened up. A little champagne spilled, but most stayed in my mouth as I sank down on his cock. I could feel the tension in his body as his tool roared stiffer in my mouth. I'm sure the bubbles burst in a symphony all around his shaft. I swallowed down and came up for air.

"Bloody hell," he said. "That feels incredible."

I did it again, this time only using a small amount of champagne. My wet and cool mouth slid frictionlessly over his pulsing member and I sank my lips to his balls. I rode up and went down again. His dick vibrated, and I knew he was on the edge, so I kept it up. The liquid continued to burst in little explosions all along his dick, and my tongue pressed the stiffening ridge of his urethra like a kid on a lollipop stick. He grabbed my hair, and made a definite sound of not being able to hold back, and my mouth was blessed with a salty torrent of hot cum. It mingled with the champagne; like cream in a cup of coffee, swirling deep and mellow richness into the bite of acid brightness. I so loved it, and he kept cumming. The back of my mouth was bombarded seven or eight times, and my hair was pulled to show me the level of 'pain' I was driving my boy into.

He stopped. Collapsed, really, and I could rise up. I made sure he held my eyes as I squinted and made a pantomime of discomfort with a slightly open jaw, like he had in the car, and then I swallowed every last drop of him down. He sprang up and locked an open mouth on mine. I shared the last of his seed – and champagne, and chocolate – with him. A little helpless, but nonetheless delicious, burp rose from my tummy. He ate that too, greedily.

He shoved me down on the bed. He straddled my upper thighs and reached for the syrup. He poured a thin stream, aimed it bullseye with the slit of my dick, then set the vase down. Parting his ruby-flushed lips, he went down and rode that chocolate up and down on me while I closed my eyes. This was better than any dream I could have fancied in regards to Tony – for once, reality trumped the life of imagination.

He put his chest on top of mine, and kissed me deep. The chocolate bound us, but it was the taste of him that lingered as an undertone – one of pine needles and freshness – that I truly relished. Yes, my dream had come true.

Tony straightened up. He reached for the bottle. He took a swig.

"Not too much," I told him, and I saw he swallowed about half of what was in his mouth.

He hovered his closed mouth over my cockhead, then sank down on it. The sensation was mind blowing. My dick lurched within his grip. All about my throbbing hood popped little pulsations, mini ones, everywhere at once. He deep-throated me, and the silky smooth of the champagne enfolded my cock from top to bottom. He drew up to my head, and sank down again. The champagne grew warmer with each plunge, and he could hold his breath a while. That he used to delight me, because as he rode my dick with his mouth – up and down, over and over – the little explosions grew more molten in every degree of his motion.

He came up for air, and swallowed.

Before he could take another swig, I asked, "Remember what your king said he likes...?"

Tony's sweet, handsome face went blank like a little boy trying to remember an answer in school, but a wicked sneer broke that stalemate. "Ah, yes. Your prince remembers."

He reached down for the chocolate again, and picked up my right leg by the ankle. He bent my knee and brought my foot to rest on his chest. Then holding it away from him slightly, he drizzled a thin line of syrup over my big toe. He kissed the tip of it, then opened his lips to allow it to slide into his mouth. Halfway along he paused, and then sucked. My wrists began to sweat. My heart rate soared and a pained moan escaped my breath. He dove all the way on my toe and sucked with force.

He brought my other foot to the same position, drizzled a stream across the top of all ten of my piggies, and began to eat them like he was drawing in air on a harmonica. My eyes had to close, and I felt I was in danger of losing consciousness; instead I cussed. "Fucking yeah – eat them!"

He continued with more relish. Then he played a dessert course by putting a small amount of champagne in his mouth, which he let fall onto my toes. I was jacking furiously now, I didn't care that my spunk might be wanted elsewhere. Tony used his tongue to surround every surface and crevice of my writhing toes to lap up the champagne and chocolate. By the time he put my two big toes in his mouth to suck with fury, I shot my load. It landed up on my chest between my nipples.

Tony let my legs drop and climbed on my torso like it was a tree. He scampered to the cum, and lapped it up in careful tonguefuls. He brought it all up to my mouth with his. He kissed me so tenderly, so salubriously, and with such heartfelt warmth, that I said it.

"I love you so fucking much. You can’t understand…."

"Not as much as I love you. I do understand."

"Happy birthday, boy," I added.

He responded by very gently stroking, then kissing, my nipple.

˚˚˚˚˚

Hours later, showered, shaved, and rested, Tony and I were back in the kitchen. He had a big piping hot mug of tea in his grip, and an Airedale head in his lap.

I was slicing mushrooms, stirring my sauté pan of frying ground beef and contemplating opening the bottle of red wine, 'for the sauce,' early.

"You know," I said. "This is the first dish I made for my man, many years ago."

"But, when you say you love me, does that mean you've stopped loving him?"

"Just the opposite. I love him, and I love you. Love grows with age, not lessens. One day you'll understand."

I had avoided it long enough, and to my chopping board, I said: "So Tony. Your parents will love you if you are Gay or not."

I turned to see the devastation. My boy's pretty features looked like I had just called him a 'faggot' in public.

"You don't understand," he said.

"I understand enough to know parents love their kids, despite any temporary hardening of the heart against them. You being you, and them being them will win the day." It broke my heart to be so honest, but what other way was there?

"They'll throw me—"

"They'll throw you out, so wait until you've finished school, get yourself settled in a flat, get yourself integrated into the scene on Old Compton Street, and then tell them. If they hate you, which I doubt, then fuck 'em. Coming out means you select your family, your Gay one, and if your 'real' one lets you down, your True one will support you. Like me. I'll support you."

"Well…thank you, but…."

"But, Tony. I know. It's hard. I didn’t come out until after university and it could not have been worse for me. My dad called me every name in the book, but when he threatened the boy I was in love with, I stood up to my father, and probably for the first time in my life, he respected me.

"In a couple of years he was standing up for me to his bigoted friends. So it is scary, but Tony, sweetheart, it's necessary."

He was silent. I put my knife down, and sat next to him. I took his hand. I spoke softly, trying to address his soul directly. "You told me you cut your girlfriend loose so you could 'figure this thing out.' Right? You did the right thing for her and for you. Don't let your family pressure you into marrying a woman. Your life will be misery, and so will hers. That's guaranteed. You'll be like those dudes in the park, pushing a basic aspect of yourself into a dark and unhealthy corner to fester, afraid someone will see you kiss the person that you want to."

A tear fell from his otherwise stoic face. "You have everything; I have nothing, no one – only you, and that I will be losing tomorrow."

"You'll always have me, boy. We were meant to be here, doing this, now. All things work out. Be brave. A strapping boyfriend is waiting for you in London, and well, if not – in a few years, if you are still crazy about me, my arms will be open. Come back and stay. I mean it, because I will still love you!" I kissed that tear frozen on his cheek, and he began to rack into sobs. I cuddled him close, telling him the simple truth over and over again, "The world is beautiful: you are worthy of love, like anyone, you deserve happiness, and will find it."

˚˚˚˚˚

Dinner was spaghetti, salad and wine; dessert was champagne and a chocolate cake with candles – devil's food, of course – for my dirty little angel. Afterwards we retreated upstairs to our large living room.

My man had hidden a couple of presents and put them out so Tony would see them when we got there.

"No!" he exclaimed. "You shouldn't have." We all sat on the floor to unwrap them with the last of our bubbly.

I laughed: "Wait until you see them, you will not be impressed."

"Speak for yourself." My partner corrected. "Sit down and open them." He handed Tony a nicely wrapped gift from him. My boy ripped into it and pulled out a set of DVDs. A television series I told him Tony liked.

"Thank you," he said and leaned over to kiss my man. A light peck, full on the lips, it nevertheless made my cock stir.

"Here's one from me," I said, giving him a fairly small and poorly wrapped box.

He took the paper off and made a bemused face. On it was a graphic of a handsome man, naked except for a white jockstrap. He opened the lid and extracted a cotton and spandex example. "What this?" His face was a question mark, his lips a scowling puzzle.

"Don’t people in the UK wear jockstraps?" I asked.

"Maybe," he said. "But they're not popular."

My man chimed in, "Well in certain circles, I bet they are."

Tony looked at him blankly a moment, then I delighted to see that wicked smile of his blossom. It seemed the total sorrow of our making dinner together was forgotten in some joyfully devilish notion.

"You know what," Tony said springing to his feet. "I bet you are right." He oddly stepped on the toe of his left sock, bent his knee, and drew his foot out of its covering. As he undid the buttons on his trousers, he pulled off his other sock in the same method. His pants, then underwear came down. "I better try them on."

He walked up to my dude's torso, his cock flopping and growing semi-erect. He put his hand on his shoulder for support, and said softly to him, "Show me how they go."

My man drained his glass, keeping his eyes on the kid's, then kneeled. Tony put both hands on his shoulders, and he stepped in the leg openings my partner held open for him on the floor. Tony's cock really swelled now, and a treacherous grin accompanied my man's efforts to pull up the jockstrap. He had to press the young man's shaft down to get it in the pouch, but even then, his balls hung out the margins because there was little fabric left to cover them. Tony spun around and shifted his sexy ass. "How about the back..?" My partner's hand inserted a finger between the right ass strap and the boy's flesh and ran it up, then down to the deep crevice of his crack. Again Tony shoved his sweetness in my man's face; he turned the other cheek this time. That strap was adjusted in the same fashion, and my dick was rock hard.

"Thank you," Tony said stepping by my side. He asked both of us, "How does it look?"

"Incredible," my partner said, breathless. He adjusted his crotch.

Tony went back to him. He placed his barely contained package eye level with him and extended his hands downward. My man latched on to the kid's thighs, and Tony had him stand by grabbing onto his arms.

Tony backed him up, pressing his lithe body into his chest and crotch by turns. My man was pinned against a wall, then Tony sank to his knees before him. His zipper came down and Tony pulled out his gorgeous cock. He held back the foreskin, held his eyes on my man, and took that dick in his mouth. My partner moaned. I had trained Tony very well in a short amount of time.

I unzipped myself and went up to apply my lips to my partner's mouth. His tongue entered me and I knew he was fucking excited. My hand went to the back of my boy's head and guided him deeper on the cock he was pleasuring. My partner groaned into my mouth. Then he really got excited.

He began to kneel and tipped Tony over. The boy's legs flew up in the air as my man caught them and kept them elevated.

The ass straps of his jock were taut. They were thin strips of white against his marble skin, and from where I stood, so damn sexy coming together in a "V" right over his perineum.

My partner's tongue pummeled the boy's ass and I knelt to kiss Tony and feel his sharp breaths in on my palate. I reached up and latched onto my prince's right ankle and drew it farther back and to my face. I put his pinky toe in my mouth. I toyed with the crevice between it and its larger neighbor and sucked it tenderly. My boy's eyes wavered between me on his foot, and my partner at his ass. Finally he raised one hand and dug it lovingly into my man's scalp, and with the other, gripped my arm. I brought my dick over to his mouth and he began to suck it. I worked on his other foot as he did.

Coming up for air, my man hovered over the boy's face. He leaned down, and together their two tongues licked the head of my shaft. It ended soon though, as Tony couldn't fight the urge anymore and pulled my man into a wild kiss with tongues more out of their mouths than in. I bent down and sucked my partner's cock. He moaned and suddenly I realized I could shift Tony's dick out of his mesh pouch, and bring them both into my mouth. My men, my new and my well-established, both grunted into each other's mouth and kissed harder. I sucked the two together knowing that a perfect union was possible. And that thought made my precum sparkle unattended to.

Suddenly my man leaned back on his hocks. He grabbed his own dick and wagged it up in the air. To me he asked, "Have you been fucking him?"

"Yes," I said. "And he loves cock. He just loves to get fucked."

My man drew his hand across his lips. "Good. My turn." He sprang to his feet and extended a helping hand to Tony. He pulled the boy up with force, then slapped his ass and motioned towards the bedroom. We both watched as the virgin jockstrap ambled with a muscular jiggle to our bed.

Ooops. Tony and I forgot to put the lube and anal toys away after our strawberries and champagne. But my man was nonplused. He hoisted Tony's ass on the bed, and sent his own hand down for a generous dollop of the slick stuff. He grabbed a toy, a bent and stout affair to tickle the prostate, and lubed it up with his fingers. "Here, hold that." He gave it to me. Then he picked up the patented lube injector, a fat syringe with a plunger. He inserted the tip in the lube bottle and sucked up a goodly amount. He positioned the filled tip at Tony's hole and inserted it in gently. As he withdrew it, he nailed the plunger down and a line of comfort-giving wetness was left in Tony's insides.

He took the fat prostate dildo, and yanked on my boy's waist strap. He pulled that twenty-three-year old hole onto the device and Tony relaxed and took it like a champ. Halfway in, my man gave it a twist, and Tony cried out in pleasure. The bent probe had found the kid's prostate with ease, and made him want to climb the walls. My man maneuvered the device in and out of Tony's ass by pulling on the jock's strong elastic.

I went to the top of the bed, and inserted my legs between him and the covers. I slid and wriggled my way so my legs came out next to his; by my man. And now my face was directly under my boy's.

My partner lifted my thighs, and his slick fingers played at my hole. He forced Tony to lie on top of me, which suited my purposes just fine, for I could tongue him and his mouth.

My man lubed up another toy, a segmented glass butt plug about 5-inches long, and pressed it against my hole. It slipped in and then he was fucking both of us with his hand and hand tool. I loved the taste of Tony and his lips panting into my mouth.

"Fuck us," I told my partner. And he did!

He kept the plug deep in me, keeping me loose and ready. He pulled out the prostate toy from my boy's interior, and then slicked up his raw dick with spit. Tony was well greased, thanks to the injection of love-balm, so my man sank into him hard and fast. Tony grunted into my mouth, and then got the fucking of his life. My man pummeled him relentlessly and I could soon feel the slick of precum moistening the tip of his cock against mine. We were rubbing each other as my man shoved Tony's ass forward over and over again, and my dick was growing more out of control with each thrust.

I felt his hand lift Tony's backend off of me. My man reached under and pulled my dick towards him. Sightlessly, I could feel him slather up the head with lube. He brought Tony's shoulders towards him, and guided my boy's hole down on my dick. He pushed down on his shoulders and fucked me with that boy's ass. My partner guided Tony's chest so that he was lying on my belly, and then I felt a wonderful sensation. My man's dick slid into Tony's convulsing hole on top of mine. Our dick heads met and rubbed against each other deep inside of Tony's ass.

Tony groaned loud enough to send a pinging echo all about the eves, over and around our heads. In regular rhythm, my guy and I fucked his little slut hole, and he gripped my chest in spasms of fingers tightening and releasing.

Suddenly the movement stopped. My man repositioned Tony, put my dick back under the boy's, and placed his cockhead at my portal. He yanked the butt plug out, and replaced it with his wet cock. He pushed in. I relaxed and it sank all the way in; like usual – my man loves it deep and rough. He fucked me, and my hole vibrated with his familiar and adored rhythm. The pressure and beat of Tony's dick and my dick rubbing together continued to build.

Tony closed his eyes and yelped.

"What...?" I asked him.

"He's finger-fucking me."

And so it went. Soon Tony's prostate-stimulated precum was joined by mine, and the pressure on our two shafts built. I closed my eyes. I was going to cum, but I wanted all of us to do so at the same time.

"You ready?" I whispered in my boy's ear.

He looked to be in pain, but nodded.

"Hold off till I give a signal. I'll grab your ass."

I was waiting for the sounds I knew so well. As he fucked me, I clenched down and drove my man insane, and there it was, his little gasping that caught in the back of his throat about 30 seconds before he cums. I grabbed Tony's ass cheeks and spread them. Then the moment happened. My man grunted; he stopped fucking me as he dumped a truckload of seed, and I felt Tony's cock throb uncontrollably. Hot wetness shot up between us. I closed my eyes and came for all I was worth.

As Tony relaxed his legs, and his lower end slipped on our cum-slick, his head nestled just below my chin. I kissed the top of his head, and thought, 'Some Fourth Acts are the best in the whole goddamn show.'