Initiation

I slaved hard my senior summer. Was a lowly helper for a house painting crew. Hated the work. Loved the scenery. Bert, the crew boss, was four years my senior. He'd been the star guard on our State Championship basketball team. Devastating shooter. Devastating body. Devastated face. He'd really be scared up when he powered through puberty, but now he wore a trim beard. That and the sun gave him a much older and leathered face. He and Pete were tight. Pete was an ancient in his thirties.

I envied them their camaraderie and their looks. I drooled every day as the temperature rose and the guys tossed their shirts and tank tops in the truck. Ray and Tyler were as fish belly white as I was at the start of the summer. That changed as the days passed.

Bert broke out a cooler of beer when we finished our first job. He challenged the new guy, me, to arm wrestle on the tailgate. I lost. Hell, I lost to all four of them. Pete made a sarcastic reference to my manhood, joked about how maybe I'd do better with my ass on the tailgate instead of my elbow. I shot right back at him telling him if he was so hot for a piece of ass he ought to go fuck himself. I was acting macho but trembling inside. Bert caught my eye. I swear he winked with a knowing gleam. Then he weighed in on my side, ribbing Pete about being the old man in the crowd.

Later that evening I lay in my bed remembering that look on Bert's face, picturing myself hanging over that tailgate with first him and then Pete and then Tyler and then Ray porking my ass. Shit, I barely started pumping and the cum came gushing. That happened a lot last summer. That and a lot more raunchy guy humor that always seemed to skirt right on the edge. Particularly when it was Pete sounding off.

There were a couple of more times I caught Bert watching my reaction. Then one late afternoon, it was our third or fourth job completion beer guzzling contest, Pete cut a little too close. Bet yelled at him to knock it off and laid his bare arm across my sun red shoulders. Told me not to take Pete serious, that he was just a frustrated old fart that hadn't been successful getting laid all summer. Sparks flew between Pete and Bert. Pete muttered under his breath that it was no thanks to Bert and called him a donky-dick-sucking ass-hole. During the exchange Tyler and Ray were roaring with laughter while I was trembling. Bert's skin was burning mine. He'd hugged me close with that arm when the yelling started. Our paint splattered torsos were touching. His thick thigh pressed hard against mine. I was blushing.

"Take it easy, kid. Jees, Warren, Pete's just pulling your leg." His arm moved to tightened around my neck. "Don't get so excited." Like, how did he mean that? Did he know I was trembling at his touch, my dick rock hard, or did he think I was bursting with anger, ready to tear in to Pete? Thank heaven for the baggy jeans I was wearing no one but I knew about my erection.

Bert turned me loose, knuckled my arm and climbed into the truck with Pete. He was still going off on Pete as they drove away. I stood staring after that truck rubbing on the stiffness that strained my crotch. It didn't go down until I relieved the pressure sitting on the stool at home, jacking wildly, groaning, cum splattering out onto the floor.

The last two weeks things were different on the job. Bert and Pete had had a falling out. Pete was sullen and constantly challenging Bert's authority. Bert took lunch with me most of the time. At the final completion party Pete just sat and chugged his beers. It was the first and last time I saw Pete get smashed. It wasn't pretty. He just slowly melted into this blubbering rag doll. When Bert asked me to help him get Pete home I agreed. I would have done anything for Bert. I think he knew it.

We lifted and rolled Pete into the bed of the truck. I caught some of his slurred stuttering and it sounded like most of it was about me. He kept referring to me as 'War-n the home wrek-r' and 'cute lil' War-n'. I gave Bert a quizzical look.

He grinned an shook his head. "Let's get the old man home, Warren. Then we can talk." Bert sounded serious. I sat beside him in the cab trying to make sense of what was happening, knowing what I had heard, knowing what it implied, refusing to believe the logic of what I was beginning to understand about Bert and Pete.

We hoisted Pete between us and got him into the house and into bed. I wasn't surprised to recognize that this was their home. In the living room a framed photo of the two of them, hugging and mugging for the camera at some beach, sat beside Bert's championship trophy. In the bedroom . . . well I almost dropped my half of Pete as we sidled in the door. Over the dresser, instead of a mirror (which was on the back of the door) hung four mini-poster size shots that just took my breath away. One of Bert. One of Pete. The other two were of the two of them together. Again at the beach. This time nude. Totally nude. Totally lewd. Totally erotic as hell. Clearly intended to give the viewer an instant shot of adrenaline and a pulse pounding erection.

It worked for me. Bert chuckled at my discomfort as he pulled a blanket up over Pete, brushed back the hair on Pete's forehead and kissed him good night. No embarrassment doing it in front of me. All perfectly natural. Bert patted the bulge in my jeans, took my hand and led me back into the living room.

"So, now you know," he said softly as we eased down side by side on the couch.

I sat, my hands clasped between my knees, head bowed. "Yea," I muttered. "Now what?"

"You weren't really surprised, were you?" Bert's hand clasped my shoulder and then started rubbing lightly on the back of my neck. "I've been watching you, Warren. I've been wanting you, Warren." His fingers dug into my neck. "Damn it, Warren, look at me."

What was I going to say. This was what I'd been dreaming about all summer. I was skittish as a wild mustang. I didn't know what to say, what to do. What did he expect? What did I expect? I sneaked a look out of the corner of my eye.

Slowly Bert forced my head around and then grabbed my chin with his other hand. "You've never been with a guy before have you, Warren?" he said softly.

"Wow," he muttered when I shook my head. "But, you want to? I wasn't wrong was I?" His eyes were begging me to say yes. His hand was now gently stroking my face while the other traced down my arm and laced its fingers with mine. He squeezed, hard. "Let me . . ." he crooned softly as this time I nodded, " . . . love you, baby."

He leaned toward me. He pulled our hands behind his back. Pressing on the back of my neck he brought us nose to nose. I was breathing hard, my mouth open, lips quivering, my body out of control. We were going to kiss. Bert and me. Me. Mashing my lips with a hot, tongue fucking, sucking face. I surrendered willingly. It felt so good. Better than any dream.

His breath was hot. I could taste the tang of the beer, feel the smooth slickness of his teeth, hear the pounding of my own heart, his, ours. I let out a weak moaning cry and collapsed under his weight as he pushed me back on the couch. His hand was groping around between us, squeezing on my inner thighs, rubbing hard across my cock as it strained within the confines of my work pants.

I broke our lip lock. "What about Pete? He . . . "

"My old man already thinks we're making it, Warren. He's been sulking for weeks and drinking, and being a regular pain in the ass. He's had his flings. Hell, we even shared the last one. But, you. He's scared of you, not jealous, scared. You're too young, too wholesome, too prime." Every one of those last adjectives Bert emphasized with a tug where he'd wrapped his fist tightly around my throbbing cock. "I'm not scared of you, Warren. Are you scared of me? Hu? Are you?" He was nuzzling against an ear, pinching and pulling on its lobe with his teeth.

My voice bleated out like a lamb's. "Yes!" I cried, trembling under his attack. Then my tone changed as he lanced his tongue into my ear. "Oh god, yes," I whined and hugged him closer, tighter. "Oh shit, Bert. Bert! NO!" It was happening. There was nothing I could do. My body was thrashing and the ache in my balls busted loose. I felt the gushing release and the wet clamminess that collected in my briefs. "Oh, no . . n-o-o-o!" I wailed as that unexpected climax gripped and shook me. I wanted to tear loose and run. I was mortified. I knew Bert was going to laugh at me. I struggled to get free.

"Easy, baby. Take it easy," he whispered in my ear. His hand was still holding my dick. He pulled it out, looked at the wetness, gripped my thigh, rubbing, letting the cum seep from inside and out to stain my pants. "It happens, Warren. I take it as a complement. If just touching got you that hot, just think what we can achieve with a little more effort. Shit, man . . ." He lifted his hand, it was glistening.

"Baby, you had a load waiting down there." He nuzzled into my ear again. "Let's get you out of those wet, sticky clothes, you hot young stud you." His voice was soft but filled with a husky passion. "Please, Warren."

A jolt of pure electric current shimmered through me. I finally realized what I had heard Bert saying from the moment we sat down. I was not alone in wanting. Bert wanted. Bert. Bert wanted me. Me. And suddenly I wasn't afraid. I was filled with a flaming desire to do, to be, to give whatever he wanted. Finally to experience my dreams.

We slid off the couch onto the floor, clothes being flung away as quickly as we could shed them. It was all so natural, so simple, so right, so easy. It wasn't like I didn't know how to embrace another body, or kiss, or fondle. I'd experimented with girls, trying to prove to myself I wasn't what I was. Those times it had been uncomfortable, awkward, all wrong. I'd ended up frustrated and so had the girl I'd been with. Well except for Shirley Johansen.

Shirley was only interested in one thing, sucking cock. But she craved variety. Some how I felt she know -- and didn't care. I never pressured her for more which I guess every other guy in school did. She left town after graduation. I'd stuck around.

Thanks to Shirley I knew where Bert was going when his lips slid off mine and he started kissing his way down my body. The wonderful thing about it was that the closer his mouth came to closing down over my pulsing cock the closer that bobbing prick of his came to my mouth. Saliva was pouring. I kept swallowing. It kept filling my mouth. Damn it, I was slobbering I was so fucking eager. When he was within arm's reach I couldn't wait. I grabbed a leg an tugged his crotch into my face. There it was, a real live stiff male sex organ.

Bert's cock was clipped neatly, letting his ruddy pink cap sit there, exposed. Its piss hole lips were open. A crystal clear drop rolled free and like molten glass stretched, growing into a fine glossy filament, reaching almost to the floor before it broke. Where he had been circumcised the skin was a bright polished pink, below it was darker, rougher and thicker. I was intrigued.

For the first time I was able to study a penis other than my own. There were all kinds of differences. His cap, the glans, was squat and wide on top of his tapered shaft. It wasn't round and bell shaped like mine. No large pulsing blood vessels were in view, just a flush that coated every inch of that beautiful organ. I wanted to touch it, suck it deep between my lips. But, if I did, I couldn't see, couldn't watch it twitch as I blew gently up and down the shaft. Swallowing I pursed my lips and directed my hot breath out to race back and forth across that head, making the whole organ dance before me.

His pubic hair was thick, luxurious, a burnished bronze, far darker than the blond curls that I had grown to love. Above his pubs stretching sun tanned plates of muscle. Below, two hefty, solid, muscle packed but not overdeveloped legs, white and hairless, passed out of view. The temptation grew.

My hands, which had clutched that leg to drag him to me, traveled over the hard muscles, pressing up into soft flesh. His buttocks were velvet smooth and warm. I clasp him. He moved toward me. My arms constricted. Another drop glistened between those tiny lips as they met mine. The tip of my tongue eased out. Wet met wet. So little to be so salty.

I knew I wanted more. His dick's head eased between my lips. Did I move or did he? I sucked, vacuuming out more juices. I felt a matching pull as he reached his goal and enclosed me, gulping me in. I shivered. I groaned. I sucked harder, easing more of his flesh into my mouth. My lips pressed lightly feeling silkiness. That cock grew as my tongue brushed across and then pressed his bulbous crown to the room of my mouth.

Straining, blood hot, that delicious flesh surged, turned rigid. I opened wider. He thrust forward. I felt myself slide deep between his lips and was swallowed whole. His chin scrubbed through my wiry black curls. Shirley had been an amateur. Bert was a pro.

I tried to reciprocate and choked, finding his shaft's continuing expanding girth impossible to negotiate. I eased back, sucking, licking, moaning at the sensations that piled higher and higher, rippling out from my quivering loins.

He slowly let me glide out. Holding me he stopped the withdrawal and bobbed forward. Not so deep. Not holding me a the bottom. Bouncing, sliding his lips along my flesh. Oh, so much better than Shirley. Together we sucked, teased, licked. He took my balls in his hand and lifted one, sucking it in to join my wet throbbing cock.

By example, diligently, surely he taught me how to worship the totality of man's supreme organ. There was no rush to gain his own pleasure. I could tell he appreciated my clumsy efforts. At times he would even exchange a hand for his mouth, continue softly stroking and talk, low passionate, explicit, telling me what to do, how, why -- the when was now, the who was there with me. My heart was pounding. The warmth of what I knew must be love filled me. Bert. Bert was making love to me. He was letting me, no, showing me, teaching me how to make love to him.

When the time finally came we lay, side by side, hugging, his lips brushing lightly against my neck, stroking away, bringing each other to a final climax. It was so beautiful, so gut wrenching, so impossible, but it was happening. Like in the storybooks we were one, gushing and spewing, moaning, clutching. I felt safe, snuggled in his arms when it was over. He smothered my face with kisses and padded away to return with two fluffy white robes and a towel.

We curled together, cuddling on the couch, watching a movie on TV. I didn't see it, just the flickering light. I studied the face beside me. I ran a finger down from his brow. Feeling the texture of that pocked and leathered skin I traced across and eyebrow and down a cheek. I moved across the blond bristly beard, around the sensuous mouth. He took my hand in his and pressed his lips in my palm. His breath was warm and moist on my skin.

There was so much more. He was so gentle and loving. By morning I had learned all that Bert could teach, except the biggest lesson. He held my hand across the table over breakfast and told me, no, he asked. It shattered my dream and yet I loved him even more. He said I didn't have to. But I could tell that only with this giving would it be possible to keep what I had found. I was growing up, fast.

I hugged him, planted a kiss solidly on his lips, plunged my tongue in and rooted for his adenoids. Standing beside him I bent back and touched my lips to his forehead. I left him sitting there. We smiled across the room as I headed for the bedroom.

Pete was moving restlessly, half out, half under the covers. I smoothed them across the bed, checked that what was needed was in the top drawer of the night stand. I stood looking down at the other man from my fantasies.

The robe dropped softly on the floor. I turned back the covers and crawled in snuggling up against that warm almost feverish body. He stirred, turned toward me and reached out. Our bodies pressed together. Pete muttered something. I laid my head next to his and softly asked him what he had said. His eyes opened just a slit, a sliver of cobalt blue gleamed at me. His eyes flew wide open in astonishment.

I scooted closer, letting my erection rub on his leg. I leaned over and kissed his ear then whispered, "Bert said you love to fuck in the morning. I'm just learning. There must be a few things you can teach me. Please, Pete." I let the tip of my tongue bore into his ear and wiggled against him. "Please."

"Oh, Pete. You animal . . ." Mission accomplished. Initiation complete. We're going to make a great trio.