Grief Of Three: Mmm Gay Menage Romance

by Sam Haywood

  But Roman wouldn't hear of that. "No, they've known I was gay since I was twelve, tops. They've been very supportive, after all, they're both gay, too. I don't think they would want me to marry just for appearances, the way they did. Even though it resulted in me! No, they probably just want to give us best wishes, or talk about this property, or something."

  I wasn't much for conversation over lunch. Finally, Roman leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, and took my hand. Looking me straight in the eye, he said, "O. K., look. Suppose it is your worst case scenario. How would they force me to leave you? I'm almost twenty-eight, I'm self-supporting, you're fuckin' rich. There's no leverage, Jack. And there's also this: I-Love-You. I understand how you feel. This is brand new, just today, for you. But I've known it for years. I've hoped, I've dreamed, I've even prayed for this, for you. I promise you-I'm yours forever, as long as you'll have me." I put my hands around his neck then and drew him forward for a long kiss. More than placated, I found my mood completely altered. I now looked forward to our afternoon together, and our night together even more, and I was content to let tomorrow's problems wait for tomorrow

  After lunch, we adjourned to the big, double hammock under the trees with more beers, and we actually took a nap there, entwined in one another's arms, and kissing gently whenever we both wakened for a moment. I stirred about 3:00, and found Roman sitting in a chair nearby just watching me sleep.

  "What?" I mumbled.

  "Nothing. I hope you don't mind. This is like a dream becoming reality for me. I've seen you like this so many times, in my head. But the real thing, man, this is more than I ever imagined."

  I had always enjoyed being a sex object, and to be frank, I've been one since my mid-teens at least. But to be a love object, shit, that was so different for me. It felt damn good.

  "Let's get a boat out and putter around some."

  So we got out a flat-bottomed jon-boat with a little electric motor that quietly moved us around the lake. For an hour, we explored the little coves and recesses of the lake, and Roman filled me in on a few things about it. This lake was man-made, but it had been here for over 50 years. Our grand-dads had it made as a fishing lake and retreat. Many of the local members of the club had standing invitations to use it for fishing-in fact, Roman was curious as to why, on a Saturday, no one else had showed up out here for that purpose. But he figured that the cabin had been a trysting place for the men of our families for three generations-in fact, he admitted he had used it in that way himself. Oh, well, I had shagged my share of Columbia men, as well. Both Roman and I were cursed/blessed with asses and cocks that turned straight men gay for an hour at a time, and we both understood that phenomenon.

  It felt like we were in a BBC costume production, sans costumes, trolling around the lake together like that. But it was romantic as all hell. My love for Roman grew stronger by the minute. I not only wanted his body, I wanted the core of his being, for my possession, for all time. I knew, as a sure and certain insight, that there could be no one else for me in this lifetime. Much of the time, we just drank one another in visually and orally. I sprawled in the bottom of the boat, cushioned on floating devices, and drank in the form of the most divine specimen of maleness I had ever encountered or imagined, and tried to fathom the incredible reality that he was mine for the remainder of my life. The lake itself was a thing of great beauty. But God's masterpiece lay before me, the body and soul of the living man, Roman Dupree.

  When we returned to the cabin, it was martini time, and I took charge of bartending, while Roman checked phone messages again. I'd left steaks thawing earlier; heating the grill, popping potatoes in to bake, and tossing a salad were no great challenges for me. I'm as good in the kitchen as in the sack, when motivated. I studied the wine selections. Damn, Grand-daddy and Papaw were no slouches in the connoisseur department. I uncorked a very nice Cabernet Sauvignon and set the table on the deck. I selected some CD's of romantic music and set them playing softly.

  When Roman returned, he took charge of grilling the steaks, and I thought, ahah, he is to be the husband here, and I am to be the ever-loving wife. Fine. It was the way I knew it must be, for my love for him had become a burning pain deep within my chest beside my heart.

  We toasted our love. The steaks were mercifully small pieces of tenderloin-I didn't want a full stomach to get between me and the man I loved later.

  "I've been thinking," Roman said at one point, "what do you think, a thin, well- groomed goatee?"

  "I can see it on you. Fine with me, if you like it. Roman, short of setting your face on fire, there's nothing you could do to yourself that would make you anything other than devastatingly handsome."

  "Maybe I'd better not fire up that blow-torch for crème brûlée, then."

  "No, love, keep flames away from the face, please. Goatee is fine, though."

  I well knew what the dessert was to be tonight. Me. My skin, my limbs, my hairs, my organs, my orifices, my emissions. I don't flame, but I couldn't wait to be savoured.

  We sipped the last of the bottle of wine, and Roman excused himself. When he returned, he said, "Did you know there's a hot tub on the back deck, outside the main bedroom?"

  Well, no, I didn't know that, as we hadn't been out there yet, and it hadn't been there when I was a kid. He had turned it on earlier while I was preparing dinner, and now it was bubbling and steaming deliciously. There were also dual shower heads on the wall nearby. We soaped each other, and removed the residue of sun, sunscreen, and lake water from our bodies. Thoroughly cleansed, we sank into the warm turbidity of the Jacuzzi.

  I nestled between his chest and bicep, resting my head on his firm shoulder. He leaned over and kissed me. There was no need for conversation between us now. Roman swivelled around between my legs and leaned into my chest with his own. His tongue entered my mouth again, descending as deeply as his tongue could fathom. My eyes closed. My body was enveloped in warm bubbles, with equally warm skin atop me, drawing me into itself. I felt a hard phallus pressing against my abdomen.

  I moved my hand behind Roman's head, fondling the back of his head and neck, and pressing his mouth down upon mine. I had a notion that I could somehow enter him, merge with him, become one with him, that flesh could not serve as barrier to the two of us any longer. Yet we remained two, though somehow also one entity.

  I felt his hand grasp my scrotum and pull on it gently, forcing my balls together and downward. Then a finger slid toward my anus. It circled delicately, stroking the tender tissues of the outer ring. Is it possible, I wondered, that I have never had his dick inside my gut? Or has every dick been a feeble imitation of his dick? Have I always known him in me, as long as I have known the desire to receive a man? It seemed that I stopped breathing. Yet I was never more alive, more expectant of life.

  Roman gently and tenderly lifted me out of the tub. I weigh about 175 pounds, but it was like picking up a cat to him. My arms wrapped around his strong biceps, my thighs around his narrow hips. I felt his cock pushing at my willing anus. I pressed downward, hoping, and to my delight, the head of his dick slipped easily into my wet sphincter ring. He pulled me up out of the water and stood, the warm rivulets pouring off of both our bodies. His beautiful face smiled into mine, his nose upon my nose.

  "Cheater. You'll get it soon enough. Maybe more than you can take." And he pulled back his hips to extract the head of his cock from my anal ring.

  "I want it, Roman. All the way, all night."

  He began to climb up and out of the spa, still holding me, my balls pressed against his pubes, my long legs wrapped around his hips. I could still feel his hard dick against my crack, but it no longer ventured inside me. He had to pause at the door of the bedroom to finagle the door open, but he managed to carry me into the cabin, through that room and the hallway, and into "our" bedroom, where he laid me gently on the bed.

  The room had been transformed, apparently while I was preparing dinner. There were candles glowing in the corners of the room and
on the dresser. The sheets were fresh, and the covers turned back neatly. Large bath towels covered the sheets, and that was where Roman laid my still-wet body. The condoms and lube for the evening- Magnums-were laid out on the nightstand. Beside them, I saw what appeared to be a baby-food warmer filled with scented oil. I could hear low strains of the music emanating from the living room.

  He started with a long, sensuous massage. He nudged me onto my stomach, where my weight pressed my rigid member mercilessly into the soft mattress. But when his strong hands, now slippery with warm oil, pressed onto my shoulder blades, I forgot about my erection. He made long, firm strokes from tops of shoulders to lower back just at the swell of the buttocks. He kneaded from spine outward toward my ribs. He massaged my neck and the back and side of my head.

  Roman moved up above my head, kneeling with his folded legs straddling my head, and I slid up a bit, arms wrapped around his muscular thighs, and planted my face upon his crotch. While he slid his hands up and down my back from that position, I licked his dick and balls. But I could not lift my head high enough to insert his dick into my mouth. (Note to self: buy three massage tables, one for the house, one for the cabin, and one for Roman's condo!) I loved what he was doing, and I loved pressing my mouth into his groin, too.

  After fifteen minutes, he moved to the side and stroked up and down including my ass as well. Then, he focused more on my ass alone, stroking, pressing, pulling the cheeks apart, kneading them like dough. My free left hand found itself fondling his ball sack as he knelt beside me.

  When he had rendered my butt completely pliable, he moved to my thighs and did the same for them. Then on to my calf muscles, smoothing and stroking and prodding. At last, he reached my feet, and concentrated on rubbing them, one at a time, for quite a while. At last, he spent ten minutes or so on each arm and hand.

  I felt like a large, overdone noodle at this point, with only one bone in my body, the one throbbing between my legs. But now he asked me to roll onto my back. He began at my feet this time, rubbing again, but now licking and sucking them, too. He slurped each toe delicately and ran his long tongue up each instep to the ankle. Bypassing the calves this time, he turned his attention to my thigh muscles, now conveniently exposed. His firm, slippery hands slid up and down them, all the way to my crotch, where the two legs joined. My scrotum seemed stretched all out of proportion by the warmth of the spa and the oil; my balls rested loosely on the towel beneath me. His fingers brushed them tantalizingly at each pass.

  He slid by my penis on the way up my trunk and worked on my chest and abdomen. His hand touched and pushed aside my dick on every downward slide, teasing me with his light, brief visits. He worked my shoulders and biceps, my neck, and my face. I felt as if I were in a coma, yet completely aware of my surroundings.

  Suddenly, I missed his weight on the bed. I opened my eyes to peek and saw his dim nude form moving around to the foot of the bed again. Then he crept up between my legs and laid his armpits across my thighs so that his face was right in my crotch. He gave me a thorough crotch-washing with his tongue beyond anything I've ever seen a cat do to himself! I shot a huge load of cum, just from being licked rather than sucked. Roman lapped up every drop of it and resumed his licking, moving further down, below my balls toward my ass.

  He lifted my thighs over his shoulders and made out with my anus like it was a pouty mouth. His finger slipped inside, and he went straight to my prostate as only a trained physician could do. Massaging it gently, he slid his lips up my perineum, and balls, and cock again, and this time he swallowed my dick down to the short pubes. In minutes, I was feeding him a second load of infant formula, which he devoured.

  I couldn't have moved if the house was on fire. He lifted my legs over his shoulders and rose up to unroll a condom onto his dick. Then he leaned forward and pressed into me, sliding smoothly in like the proverbial knife through butter. Immediately, he began flexing his hips, and he long-dicked my ass from the very entry. I was crooning low moaning sounds of ecstasy. It was as if my ass had been moulded to fit his cock precisely. Whenever it was all the way inside me, I felt completely bonded in union with this perfect specimen of manhood. The momentum of his thrusting picked up so gradually, I didn't even notice, but after several minutes, I found that he was slamming into my south side pretty hard. His groin made a thump sound at each contact, slick skin upon skin. He shuddered and released his first ejaculation into the latex within me, then held still for a moment, while the last drops flowed forth.

  Roman withdrew to remove the condom, but he replaced it immediately with another. He lay beside me, lifted my near leg to twist my hip up just slightly, and entered me again from the side. I was still on my back mostly, and his fingers caressed and delicately plucked at my tits. I felt his wet mouth on my ear and groaned in pleasure. He suckled my earlobe like a clit.

  It took no longer for him to cum in me this second time. Again, he shuddered briefly, and slowed his strokes to savour the pleasure of the seed flowing from his body into mine. In a moment, he pulled out and removed the second condom.

  He lay still for a few moments, but within five minutes, he was up and unrolling the third condom onto his still-erect love-stick. This time, he gently drew me up onto my hands and knees. The front half of me collapsed almost immediately onto the pillows, but my knees held my ass up, and Roman knelt behind me. He slid his yang into my ying, and laid his hands on my hip bones, gently guiding me back and forth against his own hips. Each thrust took his marvellous cock into the depths of me, causing pleasure to flow and ebb throughout my abdomen.

  As his pace picked up, he leaned forward onto my now-sweaty back, and my hips became the fulcrum of the lever impaling my ass. His long, lean, and muscular legs stretched behind him to the foot of the bed, supporting much of his weight on tip-toes, his outstretched arms supporting the rest. His hips rose and fell above me in a modified form of push-ups. My skin was hyper-sensitive, and I even felt the occasional drop of sweat dripping onto my naked back.

  This time, he grunted a bit as the semen squirted into me. His hips slapped firmly against my buttocks, his long prow rammed deeply into my stern. I felt liquid shooting from my own dick onto the towels, but my orgasm seemed to involve my whole body, not just my cock. I gasped with the pure joy of this complete bliss, and my knees buckled under us. Roman lay on my backside heavily, and I revelled in the weight of him upon my own strong frame. I felt the tops of his feet curl under the arches of my own, his hands gently fondling my biceps, his breath at my neck.

  In a few minutes, he put his mouth right on mine, nose to nose, and said, "O. K., your turn."

  I grinned. I could hardly move a cell of my body, especially with him lying on me. It was 1:00, and he had been fucking me and massaging me for nearly four hours. Now he wanted round two? It seemed ludicrous.

  I locked my lips on his and sucked his tongue gently. But I began to think about having my dick up his ass, and miraculously, my cock began to thicken. I rolled him off of me and positioned him on his stomach in the middle of the bed. I got up and stretched my body thoroughly. This was going to be quite a night. Then, I proceeded to do exactly to Roman what he had done to me earlier, play by play. I massaged every inch of his body, just as he had done me. I licked him all over. And I fucked him all three times, just exactly as he had done to me. At quarter to four in the morning, I was lying face down on top of him, my nose to his nose, my mouth to his mouth, kissing him gently.

  "I think I just became a bottom," he said.

  "Like hell, you did. Seventy/thirty, you said."

  "Fify/fifty?"

  I considered carefully for a moment. "Well, O. K., then, fifty/fifty."

  He caressed my right tit. "Let your chest hair grow for me?"

  "Sure, why not, easier for me."

  He gave me his dazzling smile. "You always appreciate what you don't have, huh."

  Now I caressed his smooth chest. "I know I appreciate you, and I have you."

  "Touche." />
  I dozed off right there, lying atop my man, my head resting atop his shoulder, nose to his neck. I must have sweated all over him. When I awoke, though, I was lying on my back on one side of the bed, and his side was empty. I reached out for him but did not find him. I opened one eye, and there he sat beside the bed just looking at me, like in the afternoon. It was 5:30, and the sun was just coming up. I squinted. This time, there were tears on his cheeks.

  "What?" I groaned.

  "Nothing," he said. "I'm just looking at you, hope you don't mind. You're so beautiful, I can't help it."

  "Anything wrong?"

  "No, love, nothing is wrong. I'm happy. I've never been so happy."

  I smiled. I was glad the man I loved could be as given to maudlin sentiment as I could be. I dozed again. When I awoke, this time it was past nine o'clock. I heard whistling and movement in the living area. Soon, the still-naked Roman came bustling in, all showered and combed.

  "Ready for some breakfast?

  Morning perkiness was to be the price I paid for a night of torrid sex, I figured. No way around it, though. I sat up and smiled back through sagging eyelids. My face felt puffy and red. I stretched.

  "You mean your dick?"

  He smiled wider. "That's for later. Right now, no-- actual eggs and country sausage. And biscuits. And gravy." Of course, there were also grits, but he didn't have to say that.

  I got up and went into the living room, and he led me out to the deck, where he poured me a cup of fabulous coffee and served up the hot breakfast.

  "I'll have to run all day tomorrow because of this."

  "Or fuck again all night, tonight. Your choice, same calorie burn."

  "That's not a fair choice."

  I drank my coffee and bit into a gravy smothered biscuit. Damn. The perfect man was also a really good cook. Go figure.

  "What do you want to do about tonight? Didn't you say dinner for Papaw and Daddy? You want to order out?"