Hard at work, p.8
Hard At Work, page 8
I softened a bit at that. It was a sweet sentiment, after all, but still pretty fucked up. I said so, and Alastair explained, “I know it is, but neither of us has ever been in a relationship. We’ve always just been single or had flings, so it’s been hard for us to adjust to one of us having a boyfriend and the other not. He just wanted to see all the things I’ve been telling him about you for himself. You can’t blame him for that. We made a deal that if he ever got you alone, he could take you for a test ride. And I said I was okay with it because I knew it wouldn’t mean anything.”
“It means something to me. How can I trust the two of you?” I asked, totally serious.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” insisted Alastair, starting to smile. “You knew all along it was Ewan you were fucking, didn’t you? I saw how you were rogering him. You were taking it out on him, weren’t you?”
I blushed, caught. “Maybe…” I conceded.
“You right git!” cried Ewan, punching me on the shoulder. “You nearly broke me, you bastard!”
“Serves you right, mate,” said Alastair. Then he turned back to me and brushed my lips in a sweet, swift kiss. “Now, Brad, I know you’re mad and all, but…well, we’ve never done this with anyone else, and from the looks of your willy, you’re not altogether opposed to the idea of finishing up with both of us.” He was right, my joystick was up and ready for round two. Alastair continued, “So I know you aren’t into the whole twin thing, but if it’s all right with you, can I join in?”
I looked back and forth from his to Ewan’s expectant faces and weighed my options. As long as the two of them didn’t touch each other, I wouldn’t be grossed out, and that just meant more attention for me. My balls were aching to shoot their load after the intense fuck session I’d already had with Ewan, but I didn’t want the boys to think they were off the hook yet. I nonchalantly shrugged, and replied, “Well, since we’re all here…”
That was all it took. Ewan was back on the bed, Alastair had his clothes off within seconds, and we were all getting into position. I decided that I’d topped enough for the evening, so I was going to let Alastair have a go at my ass while I sucked Ewan off. Thanks to Ewan’s earlier work, my ass was all loosened up and ready to go, so I assumed all fours in the middle of the bed, and gritted my teeth as Alastair jerked his cock erect, slapped on a condom, and steered it into my love canal.
I let him pump me for a minute or two, waiting for the pain his nine inches was inflicting on my insides to subside and be replaced by pleasure. As soon as my prostate began to tingle and quiver from his thrusting, I turned my head to face Ewan, who was standing directly in front of me, and opened my mouth to take in his heavy prick. With just a few sucks I was able to get him totally hard again and spewing a stream of yummy precum.
Alastair was going easy on me. I think he felt sorry for what he’d done and wanted to accommodate my needs before his own. I reared back on my knees to kiss him and let him know it was all right to fuck my brains out as hard as he wanted, and once he got the green light, he peeled rubber, taking my curves as hard and fast as he could. I was so turned on by what was going on—surprising myself with how okay I was by having my two twins fucking either end of me—that I stayed completely hard even though I wasn’t jerking myself off. I looked in the mirror that ran along one wall of the bedroom, and was entranced by the image I saw there of my two gorgeous Brits stuffing both my holes.
It was difficult withstanding the assault Alastair’s behemoth was inflicting on my butt, but it helped to concentrate on what I was doing to Ewan’s pipe with my mouth and hand…since I knew he liked that now. Apparently Ewan was as turned on as I was by our twin-symmetry fuckfest because he was staring in the mirror, too, rubbing his nipples and stomach, sticking a finger up his own ass, and beginning to ram his meat deep down my throat. Within a minute or two, he was ready to come, probably partially thanks to the anal mauling I had given him earlier.
He plopped his cock out of my mouth and jerked himself the last few strokes to completion, hunching over as he yanked. Each time his foreskin pulled back to reveal his cockhead, he released another fountain of cum. The first flew far above my head and hit Alastair’s stomach. He kept fucking me, but scolded, “Dude!” The next spattered in warm puddles on my back, getting me nice and sticky. Ewan finished with a few shots right at my face level. I opened my mouth to take in the spray, curious to see if he tasted like his brother. That mystery was quickly resolved: no. His semen was clearer and thinner, but also slightly sweeter. I wondered what he’d had to eat that day. I decided to be a good sport, and I approached Ewan’s softening cock with my mouth, sucking gently at the tip and tasting the last drops of cum directly from the source. He laid a hand on my cum-spattered back to steady himself, then crumpled back on the bed.
Though still going at me full force, Alastair had been transfixed for the whole process. I think it kind of blew his mind to watch his twin come all over his boyfriend, making him ache to finish up himself. He was the newcomer to our naked workout that evening, but he was the next one to climax. After Ewan had finished, I began to jerk myself off, and that’s what I was doing when Alastair abruptly pulled out of me, ripped off his rubber, and beat himself off. His strokes were more prolonged and manually forceful than his brother’s. He really dug into his cock each time he tugged at it, but it only took him a few yanks to begin painting the canvas of my back with his sperm. I felt a rainstorm of hot white juice strike my skin, coating me with my man’s juicy essence. He unleashed rope after rope of the stuff onto me, hitting my neck and ears, and even over my shoulder onto the bedspread. It was a full minute before he was finally done—I could tell because he had stopped groaning and begun to sigh softly. I skittled around, still on all fours, and just as I had with Ewan, sucked the last drops of nectar from his piss slit. Creamier, richer, but definitely more sour. I smacked my lips.
So then it was my turn. I stayed on my knees and began to whack off, but Alastair stopped me, crouching down so that he could blow me in a show of gratitude. Ewan was still on his back on the bed, but as soon as he saw what was happening, he sat up to join in the fun. The boys took turns milking my wang, one of them concentrating on the head and shaft while the other sucked at my balls. Then they would switch and take over the other chore. At one point, the two of them ran their lips back and forth down either side of my cock at the same time. It was a heavenly sensation that I wished could go on all night, but before I was really ready for it, I felt my orgasm rising up from the pit of my stomach.
All at once, my penis began to twitch involuntarily, my balls knotted tight up into me, and my creamy serum was erupting all over the twins’ surprised faces. Alastair maintained his grip on me and kept jerking me as I sent load after load of thick goo onto their cheeks and chins, giving them a cum facial. They eagerly lapped at the drops they could catch in their mouths, savoring my extract appreciatively, and I got a thrill watching their smiling faces yearning to clean up the mess I was making all over them.
When I had finished, I collapsed on the bed, ready for a shower and a good night’s sleep. I didn’t want to think anymore about what had happened that night. At least, not until the next day when I could start fantasizing about it. Wiping their faces off on the sheets, the twins lay down on either side of me, each of them spooning either side of me.
I was the first to speak. “That was more fun than I’d imagined, but I think that has to be the only time we do this, boys.”
“Agreed,” said Ewan. But he added, “But it was really brilliant, Brad. Thank you. I’m not going to be able to sit down for a week.”
“Serves you right,” I replied, planting a friendly kiss on his cheek.
“So, Brad…” started Alastair. He had that tone he always got when he wanted to winkle something out of me.
“Yes?”
“Well, Ewan and I were wondering…which one of us was better?”
So that’s what this was all about! “What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb.
“We just wanted to know, you know, who you liked better. In bed, that is,” ventured Ewan.
“Oh, boys, that would be like comparing an apple with…well, another apple,” I said, refusing to give up anything.
“Come on, darling, we won’t hold anything against you. We just wanted to know,” said Alastair.
“Well, in that case, I’d have to say it was Ewan,” I said, pretending to be thoughtful about it.
Ewan gleefully pumped his hand in the air in triumph, but before he could get too celebratory, I feigned a puzzled tone and said, “Or Alastair. Maybe it was Alastair I thought was better.” Now it was Alastair’s turn to gloat, but he didn’t get the chance because I continued, “No, that’s not it. Ewan? Hmmm, or Alastair. Huh. You know, I just can never tell the difference between you two….”
And before they could say anything else, I hopped off the bed and scampered to the shower for a few minutes of peace. Let them figure it out for themselves.
Smooth Sailing
I have traveled a lot in my life, but one of the best trips I have ever taken was a sail down the Aegean coast of Turkey. It was the year after I graduated college, and I was twenty-two. Though I didn’t have much money myself, a bunch of my friends had gotten jobs at big banking firms in New York, so they were swimming with cash. However, because of their long hours and few vacation days, they didn’t really have much time to spend it. That summer, though, a few of them got some time off and decided to charter a yacht in Turkey through one of their father’s connections.
At the last minute, one of the guys dropped out due to a work emergency, and I was asked to take his place. He still paid for his share of the yacht since it was too late to pull out of that, so all I had to cover was my plane ticket. The trip was only a week away, and the airfare was rather steep, but I figured I might not have another chance for a trip like this, so I said yes, bought my ticket, and stocked up on bathing suits and sunblock.
As was my custom, I also purchased as many guidebooks about the area where we’d be sailing as possible. We would start and end in the coastal town of Bodrum in the south of the country. It is an international destination thanks to some amazing coastline and beaches, and many of Turkey’s glitterati spent their summers there, sort of like the St. Tropez of Asia Minor. Personally, I was looking forward to exploring the Crusader fortress at the mouth of the harbor, and the Underwater Museum inside it where you can see the jetsam of an ancient shipwreck.
I was also looking forward to seeing two of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. The first was near Bodrum itself: the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus. It is the tomb of a man named Mausolus who was a satrap (or governor) of the Persian Empire around 350 B.C.E. Gross fact alert: He was actually married to his own sister (as was customary back then), and the two were buried together in the massive structure, which was over 100 feet high.
The second wonder I wanted to see lay farther north up the coast. The Temple of Artemis once stood in the ancient city of Ephesus, though now only its foundation and a few sculptures remain. It was even older than the Mausoleum by about a hundred years, but it was destroyed by a fire right around the time the Mausoleum was being built.
On the flight from New York to Istanbul, I dorked out, imagining all the amazing sights I would see, but eventually dozing off for a few hours. Thanks to my penury working in a publishing house, I was stuck in steerage, but my banker friends up in business class came back periodically to sneak me drinks and snacks. One of them even lent me his laptop so I could watch movies he had downloaded. All in all, it was a fun flight, though uneventful. I thought the rest of the trip would be, too, since I was the only gay man on it, but at least I’d have some eye candy of my fit friends frolicking in their bathing suits.
Finally, we arrived in chaotic Istanbul, hurried through customs, and caught a small plane to Bodrum. About ninety minutes later, we found ourselves in the dusty little airport, lugging our bags around the small terminal and trying to find the driver who was supposed to meet us.
No one was holding a sign for us, so we all stuck our bags in a corner and settled there to wait for a few minutes. I excused myself to use the restroom, and walked down the terminal. As I did, I could see another young man about my age rushing up in my direction. He was a gorgeous Middle Eastern man with tan olive skin, a full head of curly black hair, and the most surprising almond-shaped silver-green eyes. He looked like one of those Greek statues, a koroi, come to life, though there was nothing boyish about him. He was all muscle, and the button-down shirt and shorts he wore seemed ready to burst at the seams, especially where the sleeves constricted his massive biceps. His thighs also stretched the fabric of his shorts, and I could just make out the curling outline of his cock through the thin cotton fabric.
I tried not to stare, but he caught me glancing at him. I’ll admit that, after the long journey and the heat of the airport, I was not looking my best, but he still gave me that telling half-smile I get when guys want to hit on me. He did not seem to have time to stop, though, and kept walking by as I went into the restroom.
I sighed as I emptied my bladder. How would I find that Turkish guy again so I could have a fling? I gave it up for hopeless as I washed my hands, and exited the bathroom to find my friends again. When I got back to the corner where they were all waiting, they whooped when they saw me and said the driver was pulling the car up. We grabbed our bags and made our way outside the terminal to where a Jeep was waiting for us…and who should be at the wheel but the handsome Turkish man I had made eyes at.
He hopped out of the Jeep to help everyone with their bags. I was last, and as I handed him my small duffel, my friend Darren introduced me to him.
“Brad, this is Aslan. He’s going to help out on the yacht, too. His uncle is the skipper.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, extending my hand.
I saw a hint of recognition flit briefly across Aslan’s features, and he smiled at me and shook my hand but said nothing.
“He doesn’t speak much English,” explained Darren as the three of us went to the front of the Jeep.
“Ah, too bad,” I said, giving Aslan one last furtive look.
He went around the other side of the car to get in the driver’s seat. Our friends had all crammed in the back, so Darren and I were stuck up front. I was smaller, so he made me sit in the middle, but that was just fine by me since it meant that I was mashed up against Aslan’s solid frame. My arm touched his, and my thigh was pressed against his, even as he shifted gears to get us going. I could see the sweat break out on his olive-toned brow and I smirked.
When we got to the harbor, Aslan helped us unload our bags, then led us out to the docks to where the yacht was waiting. It was a beautiful seventy-foot sailboat with a white hull and two masts.
One of the other guys whistled that he was impressed, while another said, “Wow, it’s a schooner. Beautiful.”
Without thinking, I said, “Actually, it’s a ketch.”
It was one of those things that slipped out and that made me feel like I was being snotty without meaning to. I wished I could take it back immediately, but it was too late, so I went on, explaining, “See how the second mast at the stern is shorter than the main mast? That’s what makes it a ketch. On a schooner, it would be bigger. Or at least the same length.”
“Such a size queen,” chortled Darren, to the rest of their amusement.
Okay, it totally sounded snotty, but I could tell my friends were impressed, despite their jibes about not knowing “they had a mariner in their midst,” and that I “must have picked that up hanging out with the sailors down by the docks.”
I turned crimson as I saw Aslan laughing along with them in that way that people who don’t really get a joke do to try to fit in. But he gave me a little wink as he hopped onboard the boat and started taking our luggage.
We spent that first night in Bodrum, hitting the bars and dancing in the discos. I had come to relax and see the sights, but my friends were all there to party hard. I had a good time drinking with them—though thankfully they were the ones paying for the expensive bottle service—and we met some interesting Istanbulu down from the big city on vacation and living it up. I was more interested in the daytime activities I hoped to get to over the coming ten days, though.
We all got back to the boat around dawn and slept in. By the time I awoke to the smells of Turkish coffee, it was noon, but I was still the only one of the Americans awake. In my hangover haze, I wandered into the kitchen in just my briefs to find some coffee. It was a second before I noticed Aslan was there measuring out coffee beans by the sink. I was about to rush away when he turned and saw me. I was mortified, there with my pale body out for anyone to see, my hair a mess, some dry drool on my cheek. I looked like hell.
Well, not like hell. After all, I was still only a year out of college, and my frame was wiry and lean. I had some great arm muscles going on thanks to hours spent lugging boxes of books around at work, and my morning wood was just starting to dissipate, so my package must have looked substantial beneath the fabric of my underwear.
I murmured a good morning to Aslan, took a cup of coffee from him, and slunk back to my room. I quickly groomed myself and dressed, trying not to wake Darren, who was my bunkmate for the trip, then snuck off the boat without anyone seeing me.
Though I was tired, the jetlag had kicked in, and I had a burst of energy, so I thought I would take advantage of the gorgeous weather and some blessed alone time to explore Bodrum a little and to stop by the fortress. The yacht was not scheduled to leave until the following morning, so I would have all day to see the sights.
I stayed out for the entire afternoon, stopping first at the Underwater Museum, then having a light lunch before hitting the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus. By the time I got back to the boat, it was well into evening, and the other boys were already getting ready for a night out.
