Summer - 6. Glory Days

Since Dragon and King had bailed out on their Saturday night dinner plan, they invited CJ and his fathers to join them on Sunday morning for second breakfast. Tolkien’s stories were a favorite of the teen; he immediately recognized the reference to the Hobbit meal enjoyed before noon. The couple planned it for nine-thirty, instead of the traditional eleven o’clock. They were all expected at the marina by noon.

Both men looked forward to the opportunity of spending time with CJ away from the rest of their friends. And to show off the apartment they had rented on the third floor of a converted brownstone on Q Street. Their place was in the Dupont Circle neighborhood, which for many years served as the focal point of Washington’s gay community. There was a second reason for their desire to see the teen before they all gathered aboard the PP: they wanted to explain certain aspects of their relationship. The previous summer, their group of friends had been careful to avoid most references to their sexual habits while CJ was in town. With him living in D.C. permanently, that would be more difficult. Hearing from his dads that the kid was savvy about life in general, they did not expect him to react negatively to anything they said.

César, Brett, and CJ were in the kitchen drinking a final cup of coffee before heading out when the marine took the initiative and began a somewhat serious conversation. This was something the two adults had discussed the previous night, and agreed would be smart to do.

“Bud, your dad and I believe in treating each other in a respectful manner, and we plan on doing the same with you. Three gay dudes living together could get prickly. By having open lines of communication we can hopefully avoid misunderstandings. Your world has been turned upside down by the actions of an ignorant homophobe—”

“Asshole!” interrupted César.

“Stop stating the obvious. We’ll try to help through this experience and through all future changes in your life. Anytime you have any questions concerning anything at all, just ask. That includes sex. We have many straight acquaintances, but our close circle of friends you've met is all gay men. Not all their relationships are the same as ours. There’s variety amongst us, and even more so in the gay population at large. You may be surprised about some practices, or you may wonder how certain things are possible; just ask us, dude. We’ll always be honest with you.”

“Really, Papa? Have you ever heard of the internet? I know I’m young, but I ain’t stupid. I know my way around the web and have read and seen enough to realize all relationships are not like yours. I doubt very much anything would shock me. I have zero interest in many of those things I’ve read about, but I’m definitely aware of them.” The kid had a smart-ass smirk on his face as he spoke, which made his fathers laugh.

“He’s got you there, Jarhead.”

“Fine, smarty-pants, I’ll stop sugar-coating things; but open communication is the important thought I wanted to get through to you.”

“He’s right about that, CJ. Feel free to talk with us anytime about anything. Now, let’s shower, get dressed, and go eat real food. We're taking the Harleys so boots, jeans, t-shirts, and leather jackets; I’ll give you one of mine to wear. Throw flip-flops and a bathing suit into your backpack. Papa Brett and I will add some for ourselves when we come down. Let’s meet in the garage in half an hour.”

Waking up early, with plenty of time before their guests arrived, Dragon and King lounged in bed cuddling and kissing. The smaller one of the two, King felt a tingling in his ass he knew was the result of the pounding he’d received the previous night. Every time Dragon had jabbed him his above-average-sized cock, they had both moaned with pleasure. A total bottom, the ex-boxer loved to have his hole used by big dicked tops like his partner.

Devon Marvin Jefferson, known to his friends as Dragon, was a physically imposing man. He retained the solid muscular body which had helped him excel as a collegiate football player. A total top, the diametric opposition in sexual position preference, with the man sharing his bed, was the first sign of their compatibility. An initial bar hookup led to a dinner date, followed by a night of unbridled sex. After six months of seeing each other almost every day, they decided to move in together. It was the first time either one had lived with a lover.

The taller man rolled over on his back, his erection standing up at attention, his eyes fixed upon his partner and a smile on his face. “Come on, baby. Crawl up over here, sit down on it, and take another ride on your favorite toy.” He was holding up his hard flesh as he spoke.

“Damn! My hole is still sore from last night, Big Daddy. Give me a minute.”

“This has to be quick, Rash. My balls need to dump a load inside you before we get ready for our guests. Get moving.”

And that’s what the muscular, compact guy did. Bouncing on what felt as large as a baseball bat, his hard dick slapped the stomach of his lover, leaving behind a trail of goo on the rock-solid abs.

“Oh crap. Not lasting long either, Big Daddy. Real close to shooting my load.”

“Go for it, babe. Fuck yourself silly, I’ll be right with you.”

“Arrgh!” screamed King. He slammed his ass down on his partner’s prick and started spraying his load. The bigger stud grabbed the slim hips above him, holding the exploding ex-boxer in place, as he also reached his climax.

“Damn! Even a ten-minute fuck is hot with you! Come on, cowboy, enough riding for now. Let’s hit the shower.”

Devon and Rashid had a pretty nice spread waiting when their friends arrived at their place. The quick round of sex that morning had left the two smiling and their eyes shining; it did not go unnoticed by their fellow Elite Eight members. After hanging their leather jackets, on the antique Tiger Oak hall seat and hat rack next to the front door, the men exchanged greetings and hugs.

“Damn! You’re not the little kid we saw last summer, bro. Rash, if this stud here likes chocolate, you could be single real soon. Lift the shirt, let’s see the abs,” said the tall black man.

CJ did as asked, but it was plain to see he did it in a way he could partially hide his face with the bottom of the shirt. The boy had to be aware of his body but was apparently embarrassed by such blatant displays of attention. Dragon thought he might as well get used to it if he was going to hang out with their crowd of friends. The ribbing amongst the men could be intense, and fairly raunchy at times.

“Fuck! The dude has the beginnings of a six-pack. Eat right and keep lifting’ it’ll get real sharp soon. Stick with it, CJ. You do it long enough, an eight pack’s even a possibility.”

“That’s my son you’re talking to, you bastard!” said César laughing, as he thumped the big guy’s arm.

Neither one of the hosts had shirts on, their athletic physiques were evidence of their dedication to exercise and proper diet. Devon’s smooth upper body had a large Dragon tattoo, decorating the rich mocha skin on the upper left side of his chest. The inked design led to his nickname, given to him by teammates, during his last year in school. Born and raised in the District, he attended the Howard University School of Social Work on a football scholarship. The man was an example of how athletics can be used to obtain a college education, if one keeps in mind the student comes before the athlete.

“Grab a plate and help yourselves guys,” said the African-American man. “We figured we would just sit around the coffee table in the living room and be casual. And, studly, you come sit next to me. I wanna get to know you a little better,” he uttered while licking his lips.

“Asshole!” exclaimed Papa Brett after that comment.

“Okay, buddy, I’m just playing with you. Rash and I wanted to talk to you about the way our relationship works, in case you hear anything from anyone else. Instead of wondering what others may be talking about, you'll already have the facts. Your father and Brett met, what, five years ago?” César nodded, and their friend went back to his explanation. “From that point on, we know neither one has had sex with another person. Yes, they look, and yes, they flirt, but their relationship’s one hundred percent monogamous, and that suits them well.”

“Other gay couples have different degrees of commitment between them when it comes to sexual activities,” explained King, an attorney at Holland & Knight, the same international law firm that César and Brett used for their personal matters. “Some are like your dads; others allow for different degrees of sexual activity outside the relationship.

“We’ve been together a short time and we feel this may be a lifelong commitment we’re making, but we enjoy experimenting a bit, and want to have some fun while we’re still young. That means we often include others in our sexual activities. However, we're both involved at all times, no playing individually is allowed. At some point that will probably change one way or another, but for now, our system works for us.”

“You wanna know something, guys? I’ll repeat what I told Papa this morning; I know I’m young, but I ain’t stupid. You guys ever hear of the internet? I doubt very much anything you’re into would shock me, unless it involves animals or dead people.”

“Too right, mate, those are way the fuck out of my interest zone,” said King as he reached for the pitcher of orange juice and began refilling glasses. “We also wanted to explain something else to you, the two of us are what certain people refer to as Truvada Whores. That’s an HIV medication approved to help prevent infection with the virus; pre-exposure prophylaxis or PrEP.

“We do practice safer sex when other men are involved, but ditch the condoms when it’s only us, or when someone we know and trust is involved. There’s never a one hundred percent fail-safe method, but we believe we’re responsible in our own way. Some will question our choices or criticize us. If you ever hear any comments about how we behave, anything you don’t understand, or anything you have questions about, please ask us. We'll always be honest in our replies.”

Brett jumped in at this point, telling the teen their circle of friends were aware of how important he was to them, they all wanted to have CJ as a full participant in their activities and conversations, and they all expected the boy to not just call them uncles, but to treat them as such.

“Cool beans. Uncle Dragon and Uncle King it is then,” replied CJ causing the darker-skinned guys to smile and extend their fists to bump. “And don’t worry, I know each couple has different approaches, and prefer not to judge others if those choices are different from the ones I would make.”

“Fuck! The kid is a hottie and smart. This has to be love I feel! So, whitey, how do you feel about chocolate?”

“Dragon, you’re such an ass. Stop trying to scare CJ, or I’ll have to beat you up!” exclaimed King while going into his old boxing stance and facing his lover.

The Gangplank Marina was a three hundred slip marine community, tucked away on the protected Washington Channel, in the shadow of the Washington Monument. This was where Potus and Pope currently kept the PP docked.

The vessel’s name, derived from the first letter of the owners’ nicknames, always caused smiles and giggles, but the 2001 Lagoon 42 Catamaran was not a joke. It was magnificent inside and out, a pleasure boat designed for luxury, unlike the racing ones seen in competitions such as the America’s Cup.

“Permission to come aboard?” César shouted from the dock.

“Come along, landlubbers. Welcome to our home on the water, CJ!” Thomas John Fitzgerald Kennedy, a detective with the District of Columbia Police Department waved them on. A Boston Irishman to the core, from a long line of police officers, Detective Kennedy had left his hometown when his family had issues with his sexuality. To this day he recalled the comments from his father and his brothers: “How is it possible such an obviously masculine man be a homosexual? How can you allow another man to use you as a woman? You’ll burn in hell if you don’t repent and change your ways.”

The cop was not intimidated by his siblings, his parents, or the priest brought in to help return him to the Church. They all got a big FUCK YOU, as he left town never to return. Accepting a position in the D.C. force he rose swiftly through the ranks. His dedication and hard work were rewarded; his sexual orientation was never an issue with his superior officers or his co-workers.

CJ was the first one to walk onto the aft deck and was immediately wrapped in a bear hug by the inked, red-haired, mountain of a man. The teen sensed a stirring in his groin as he enjoyed the man’s chest hair rubbing his face, felt the muscles against his torso, and smelled the musky, clean sweat of the half-naked cop.

“Wow, Uncle Tom, this is awesome! Way cooler than the pictures I’ve seen.”

“Dammit, boy! What have you been doing over the past few months? You’re almost as tall as your dad and it feels as if you have no fat on you. I think you’re gonna enjoy being out on the water with us this summer. You just listen to the boat’s skipper, we might even turn you into a fine sailin’ lad, by the end of summer. ”

“That’s it. If all our friends are going to feel up our boy, we’re just gonna have to lock him up in his room, until he turns forty!” exclaimed César, laughing at the kid’s blushing.

“Jealous much, babe?”

“Fucking A, Brett, damn right I’m jealous! I don’t like the competition or not being the hottest one in the crowd! I miss my glory days.” The pouting face accompanying the bitching made them all chuckle.

“Go inside and get changed, guys. The weather is too damn nice not to get as close as possible to being naked. There’s just going to be nine of us since Chip had to meet with a client refusing to deal with anyone but him. It must be hell to be in such high demand. Our last passenger should be here any minute and then we can head out.”

CJ had not been out on the boat before and was impressed with what he saw. The cat featured a large―fully enclosed―cockpit that bridged the vessel’s two hulls. Peeking into the open and bright salon, he saw a fully equipped galley, lots of storage cabinets, and plenty of seating on comfortable-looking couches.

The detective’s partner, JP, was mixing a pitcher of Bloody Marys while chatting with a gloomy-looking Doc. Anyone could see the friendly Southerner was unhappy. The pair were barefoot and wearing only board shorts, ready for their day out on the Potomac.

“CJ! G’day, mate, good to see ya again! Lifting weights a lot I see; take all those clothes off and show us what you’ve got, stud.”

“This is getting monotonous!” whined César. “Come on, Brett, we’re leaving this pack of old farts, and taking our son home. Are you all so damn horny you have to drool over a high school kid?”

“Hi, Uncle Pope, Uncle Matt,” greeted CJ, smiling and blowing off his dad’s rant.

“Shut the hell up, Emperor. Stop being such a wanker. Come on, kiddo, give me a hug, then I’ll give you the nickel tour of our baby.”

Both hulls of the ship had access from the center section and were laid out similarly. The port and starboard sides both had two cabins, one forward and one aft, each with its own head. There were numerous functional port holes in all cabins, and each had an overhead hatch.

“There are also a pair of single berth cabins, in the foremast sections of the hulls for use by crew, or additional passengers if no separate crew is present. Access hatches from the deck are used to reach these, so I’ll show them to you later. Your dads’ regular cabin is the first one we looked into. Go back there, change, and I’ll see you topside. We’re waiting for one more passenger, we’ll cast off as soon as he gets here.” The Aussie had given the tour before and he knew he sometimes sounded like a used boat salesman, but all the details might come in handy in case of an emergency.

Back in the main room, the other men were quietly discussing Doc’s state of unhappiness when CJ walked out wearing a light blue Speedo and a different t-shirt from the one he had been wearing before. This time, it was a navy colored one with the silhouette of a military man with a rifle, and REMEMBER, HONOR, and SUPPORT next to it

“You little thief!” shouted Brett trying to sound gruff and upset. “I kept wondering where I’d left that shirt. I should put you over my knee and spank your butt.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Papa!”

“How the hell are we going to survive them together on a permanent basis? Can we return the kid?” asked Doc, smiling for the first time since the group of bikers had arrived.

“Not on your life, redneck, my hubby wants to make up for all the years he missed with his son. Plus I’m looking forward to being a full-time father, I’m liking it so far,” countered the marine.

“Hello in there! Request permission to come aboard.” Someone with a deep resonant voice was out on the dock.