No Church in the Wild

by Paine, Bacchus

  Our sympathy for the shooting victims would come later. In the moment we weren’t totally sure what had happened, and our perspective on the event was shaped by my memory of Isis grinding herself against me and Wesley’s of embroiling Grant in some dance of his own, and we had all been ungraciously interrupted. Later, we would mourn the unfortunate demise of a former high school basketball star and the unfortunate circumstance of teenage gangs. But then, this shooter had left me disillusioned, having burst the bubble that had surrounded me as I deemed the entire day a moment of unadulterated joy. As we approached my apartment, Grant and Wesley walked alongside one another and I slipped forward, still dancing and watching as she ran away in my head, all at once.

  Something of the instant where I’d felt her face pull away from mine had drawn out with her movement the entire feeling of bliss and triumph that had preceded it, and I yearned to have it back.

  At my house, darkly countenanced, I poured three large glasses of water and asked the two of them, simply, “Are you done for the evening?”

  Wesley answered a resounding, “No! It’s early!”

  “I’d like to continue a bit not knowing for sure whether anyone was actually shot, if that’s alright,” Grant added.

  “It’s alright with me. You guys want drinks, or bud?”

  “Both, please,” Wesley said. He looked up at me and caught my eye with an expression of purpose. Still caught in his gaze, I contemplated for a split second what he wanted, and whether I could do it, and somehow calculated that I could make that the escape I so painfully desired from the pain of watching her run away. I smiled slightly back at Wesley and offered a tiny, unobtrusive nod.

  Our climb had certainly tempered our intoxication, though there was far too much alcohol in all of us for it to have sobered us completely. Nonetheless, the stiff helpings of Jack and Coke I had poured reinvigorated the intoxication that had been all-consuming from the foot of the hill and only slightly dismantled during the climb. As they drank and chatted, if I recall it was something about basketball, I sat in the corner and filled a cigarette paper with a hefty helping of marijuana and rolled it into shape, when suddenly the thought of the hot tub shared among the three condos in my building, tucked in the backyard, bubbled up into my mind. I was perhaps too sweaty, but also too tense, and the idea was alluring.

  “Hey,” I interrupted them, “you guys wanna smoke this in the tub out back?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Wesley said without the slightest hesitation.

  “We don’t have suits, though,” Grant queried.

  “If you’re wearing underwear I think that will be sufficient.”

  “Oh. Sure, okay.”

  “Okay,” I said, and I curled a piece of paper bag into a long filter in preparation for the moisture of the tub. When my joint was done I stood, finished off my drink, and reached out to take their glasses and refill as I conferred custody of the joint upon Wesley, then pulled three towels from the closet and threw them at Grant. I walked into my bedroom and put on a suit, called them outside, and let Grant almost throw me into the warmth of the tub, queuing the jets.

  I settled backward as the heat swirled around me, the disconnection between brain and body splaying into the water. Wesley lit the doobie and handed it to Grant, who handed it to me, and I felt my senses expand and my focus shorten to the now.

  “Your tits bubble nicely in this water,” Grant said to me. We’d commented on one another’s bodies oodles of times before, and it was not at all jarring or leering.

  “Thank you. They’re excited to be in the presence of two such impressive specimens. I’ve never been in this tub with like a hundred and twenty visible abs.”

  The joint passed from Wesley to Grant again, and I was vaguely aware that their hands had grazed one another as they handed it off. “Bacchus rocks the body,” Wesley said.

  “I thought you liked men!” Grant.

  “I prefer men, but I dabble. Dabbling can be quite nice.”

  “There’s a reason we get along so swimmingly, Grant. Pleasure is pleasure, and Wesley believes that as I do.”

  “You’d kiss her?” Grant asked Wesley.

  Wesley held my eyes as he said, “Sure.”

  “Would you do more than kiss her?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, darlin’, “ I said to him. At least someone will.

  “You guys never hooked up?” Wesley asked.

  Now I looked to Grant. “I daresay we considered it, but we’re not exactly one another’s relationship ideal. Not that I don’t love the body, my dear.”

  “Not to worry,” he said.

  “Who really needs a relationship?” Wesley asked. I smiled to myself as I pictured the long line of sharply-dressed, finely cut, striking boys Wesley would bring to events as his date from time to time.

  “Who does,” I said grayly.

  “I am SO fucking over relationships!” Grant said suddenly. “I don’t have the energy.”

  “Maybe I’m over them too,” I replied, cloudily. I pulled on the close of the joint, patiently, luxuriating. I looked up at Wesley and made him a tacit offer with my expression, my eyes jumping toward Grant for a nearly imperceptible moment. “Perhaps one of you can just fuck my brains out instead. And I mean it, brains out. I don’t care to have possession of my brain at the moment.” Wesley quickly nodded to me.

  “I specialize in sexual healing,” he answered.

  “I specialize in fucking brains out,” Grant said.

  “Oh boys,” I purred, crushing out the joint and looking up. “I don’t want you to fight over me… I want you to cooperate.”

  Grant looked to Wesley. “We can do that.”

  There was almost another person altogether siting there then, watching as the two magnificent bodies, contrasting in color, lifted from beneath the water, dripping, and moved toward me. They sat on either side of me, and Wesley slid his hand around my back as Grant reached out and lay his on my stomach, and I turned my face to Grant to accept his kiss.

  This was no kiss of fire, or magic, just lust, just abandon. When I broke from him and kissed Wesley it was the same. I indulged the impulse to reach out my hands and run my fingers along both sets of abs at once. I turned my back to Wesley, leaning against him as I pulled Grant’s body toward me, and Grant’s hands circled my torso, his arms coming to rest against Wesley’s chest. Wesley wrapped his massive arms around us both, and I felt his erection creep to attention along my lower back, Grant’s sword pressing upward against his boxers as I lifted my leg to wrap it around him.

  I reached forward and released Grant from his shorts, feeling Wesley’s chin fall on my shoulder as I did, circling Grant’s cock with my hand, blood pumping beneath my fingers, squeezing it slightly as it hardened. I became vaguely aware of the windows of others’ houses surrounding us, looking down on our exploits, and I suggested we go inside. I heard no disagreement.

  Grant’s cock stuck out from the waistline of his boxers as he stood. Wesley handed us towels, taking one for himself, wrapping it around his shoulders. I paused for a moment at the size of his cock. Grant’s was no joke itself, reaching toward I supposed seven inches with proportionate girth, but Wesley’s was thick too, and inches longer.

  “Damn, boy,” I said to him, swiping the head of him downward with two fingers and watching it bounce back to attention. Grant’s eyes fixed on it, burning a path over my shoulders toward the standing mass. I led them back inside and into the bedroom, drying as I walked but still damp, and I dropped my towel on the bedroom floor.

  “Take those off,” I directed, gesturing at the boxers, “lest we end up rolling around in wet sheets.” They obliged.

  “You too,” Grant ordered. I wrapped my hand behind my back and grabbed the string of the suit, pulling it loose, and slipped the top away, then I wrapped my thumbs underneath the waistline of the bottoms and slid them down my hips. Grant stepped forward and put his hands on my breasts, kneading them, and he let his hips and th
e erection between them rest against my lower body, his chin falling forward slowly to take me in a kiss. I sensed Wesley move to stand behind me, his hands curling over my hips, the mass of him lying between my ass cheeks, demanding recognition of its presence. But I knew, even fucked up as I was, that my fucking Wesley was not the purpose of this exploit. He and I were adept at understanding the tacit intentions of the other, and we both knew there was plenty of Grant to be had for all. I’d be compensated for my participation with ample pleasure.

  Whatever uncertainty I maintained about Grant’s compliance evaporated as I felt his hands leave my breasts and wrap backward, losing contact with me and sliding back along Wesley’s waistline to his ass. I felt Wesley’s shaft jump against my backside, and his hands return Grant’s favor.

  I pulled my face from Grant, winding my neck around backward and taking Wesley’s mouth in mine, our wet lips caressing one another for only a few strokes, Grant’s breath hot upon our faces. When we parted Wesley shifted the short distance necessary to nearly touch his nose to Grant’s, and, finding no opposition, Wesley closed the distance and laid a hard deep kiss on Grant’s lips. Wetness pooled beneath my legs, two hard bodies pressing into me, two urgent cocks poking with pulses into me, as I struggled to permit their attention to deploy elsewhere.

  When Wesley lifted his face from Grant, after what seemed like ages percolating with steam, Grant’s eyes opened in an expression of detachment. I used the space to reach downward, grabbing a pulsing shaft in each hand. Grant groaned, and I turned my body to hold them facing each other, then I slipped my hand down and up Wesley’s plump shaft and let it go, barely resisting the urge to take it in my mouth. Instead I turned to Grant, wrapping the fingers of my second hand around him, extending him toward me with soft strokes, Wesley’s eyes boring into the movements, his hand reaching out to squeeze Grant’s ass. I looked to Wesley and jerked my eyes toward Grant’s pulsing shaft and back, questioning, and he nodded slightly.

  I dropped downward, positioning Grant’s head at horizontal, which required some effort against his hardness, and took him in my mouth, circling my tongue around the rim of his head, which dropped backward as I moved my mouth downward and around his shaft, my tongue gripping the underside of his cock, rolling to half-encircle it. Wesley fell to his knees beside me and reached out to take Grant’s sack in his fingers, rolling it between his hands, tugging lightly. I released the grip of my mouth on Grant, shifting to the side, and yielded my task to Wesley. Grant either didn’t notice or didn’t mind.

  Where I had been slow and deliberate, Wesley was rabid. He transferred Grant’s balls to his left hand, lifting it to roll against the perineum as well, while his right index finger joined his thumb in a tight circle around the base of Grant’s cock. He dove onto the shaft with his mouth, his cheeks concave with his effort, driving inches and inches of it down his throat and twisting to pull upward and circle the head of it with puckered lips. Grant moaned loudly now, his neck dropping backward in ecstasy.

  I left my knees and rubbed my fingers into the small of his back as his hips bucked forward, watching Wesley perform, watching the big powerful jaw encircle Grant’s arousal, watching him move and shift along the length of Grant, enlisting his hands, his left hand creeping backward along the perineum as his right complimented the movements of his mouth. I took note.

  I reached my mouth out to Grant’s then, kissing him briefly, waiting, without any intention of taking his attention off the pleasure streaming through his cock. He kissed back, but soon parted with distraction as Wesley demanded attention, Grant’s piece disappearing in full on occasion as Wesley plunged. I slipped backward and lifted two condoms from the drawer as I watched them, tossing the protection on the top of the bed, sitting down beside it as I watched Wesley suck.

  The pace of Grant’s bucking increased, and Wesley heeded the warning as he lifted his lips from the tip of Grant’s cock. I dripped in spite of myself, watching the flexing of their big cocks and grand muscles, washboards of abs creasing and tensing with pleasure, bold glutes flexing in excitement. I crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs together, tensing my sex.

  Grant’s head swung back to upright as Wesley stood, his hand falling absentmindedly on his own cock, and he looked back at me. Wesley followed his gaze. I picked up the condoms beside me and held them up, silently, splaying them apart so the duplicity was obvious, and Wesley cracked a smile.

  “Two…?” Grant began to ask. “…oh.” Of course we had only identified that two cocks would be sheathed, not at all where they would go. I thought that an open question, though I would have been surprised if Grant had moved to fuck Wesley’s ass without some formidable goading.

  “You wanna fuck?” he asked me, the licentious tone returned to his voice from some past engagement with some past girl who was not his friend and not his lover but just an evening, as I was now.

  I shrugged but grinned, held out the condoms. Grant took one, as did Wesley, the head of his cock grazing the cheek of Grant’s ass and bouncing off as he twisted to grab it.

  I moved back on the bed, breasts forward, sliding along the sheets, eyes jumping between the cocks before me, no longer thinking of anything, anyone, as though it were a day I couldn’t identify, in a year I didn’t know, and both of these personalities were relative strangers. Grant tore the wrapper and slipped the condom on his dick, and when I glanced over to Wesley’s I was glad suddenly that in a moment of mischief I’d grabbed a handful of magnum condoms from a free supply during my walk alongside Jackson earlier in the day.

  When Grant reached the edge of the bed he fell forward on his hands, his arms on either side of my legs, and he crawled toward me, prying my legs open with his knees, sliding his hands up my thighs, and he abruptly dipped his mouth to my clit, lapping, spiking pleasure inside me, and said, “You’re drenched.”

  “It’s been engaging,” I replied, watching Wesley as he walked back to the drawer where I’d found the condoms and rooted around, his hand emerging with a trial packet of some kind of lady love self-warming lube.

  Grant lifted his head and dropped his hips so his cock could rest on the inside of my thigh, sliding it upward toward my slit, both of us throbbing in anticipation of the contact. His mouth fell to my nipple as I wrapped my palms around his ass, feeling him enter me, explore me with the tip of his shaft, upward and downward, finally slipping inside me and filling me up in one deft stroke.

  The big cock sated me with girth, my body pulsing tight around him. I shifted my hips into him, pleasure closing my eyes, me forcing them back open to peer at Wesley’s statuesque figure standing aft of Grant, stroking his gargantuan cock in big, broad strokes. I dropped my head back down to the pillow and looked up to Grant as he began to shift inside of me, his hips glued to mine, his movements coming from short, thick thrusts through his ass.

  He’s fucking good, I thought with some surprise, having always imagined ungraciously that he would be a selfish lover, pump hard and squeeze tits past the point of pain and rub one out on the girl’s pussy without much consideration for the experience of the pussy itself. Instead, he was deliberate, slow, even in his inebriated state, pressing his body strongly into my clit as he pumped against me, the expanse of his girthy shaft moving inside me in wide circles, pressing against me in all the right places, hot and sliding freely around inside me. My breath quickened as he moaned and said, “My god, you’re so tight… wet…”

  His body collapsed on top of me, his hands taking hold of the back of my head and my shoulder, as he pounded against me without lifting off my now-throbbing clit.

  And now I could see Wesley move to the edge of the bed, placing himself between Grant’s legs, condom on his cock, hand propping it outward, eyes trailed hungrily on Grant’s ass. His other hand reached out and rested against Grant’s flexing thigh, up around his hip and the dimple of his ass, flattening against the cheek and squeezing it as it flexed. He released the hand that had been holding his cock and took Grant’s bal
ls in it, rolling them against one another, Grant purring at the touch, then slid the backs of his fingers along the back end of Grant’s shaft, eliciting a further moan from Grant’s lips and a wider, involuntary thrust from his crotch, and then I moaned as well with the fill of it. Wesley’s fingertip rolled along Grant’s sphincter, circling, pushing inward just slightly and causing Grant to grunt with abandon. Exploring and loosening Grant, Wesley looked into my eyes, half-closed as they were with pleasure at the movements inside of me, and he smiled a wicked smile.

  Balancing himself against the hand gripping Grant’s glute, he knelt one knee between Grant’s writhing, bouncing legs, bringing his hand back to his shaft in guidance, using the strength in his core and his arms and his bustling chest to direct his hips, carefully pointing his shaft toward Grant’s exposed asshole. He let the tip of himself rest against it, ever so lightly, following Grant’s strokes into me, so that the head of his cock barely peeked inside of Grant as Grant pulled himself outward from me. I felt Grant’s body tense and relax in reaction above me and inside of me, his breath sharpening, moans escaping. I watched Wesley draw Grant against himself, slowly, gently, a millimeter at a time. Wesley’s movements soon seemed to match Grant’s atop me, his crotch pulling him toward and away from me as he steadied his upper body on the bed. He circled like this, eyes rolling shut, before he released a measured thrust at Grant. Then the circles Grant made within me were suddenly interrupted by a downward thrust in his shaft, and a raspy sigh escaped his lips as I moaned with the change of pace.

  Now Wesley eased his slickened cock farther into Grant’s ass, dipping deeper as he moved slightly forward with each stroke Grant took in me, remaining staunch in his position as Grant pulled back into him, his exploration soliciting spasms in Grant’s thrusts and weak sounds of pained pleasure from Grant’s lips, little grunts and moans and moments of tolerable pain. Wesley was patient, only small moans escaping between his teeth, his figure held tense in abeyance above our writhing bodies, never permitting himself to enter too hastily, but waiting for Grant’s body to meld to him in all of his vast glory. I grew enthralled at watching it, that visual score to the rapture rolling inside me, Wesley’s titanic cock disappearing bit by bit to slide along the inside of Grant’s own, which began to roll between the two of us. It seemed a centimeter, now, of mammoth black shaft would slip further inside with each of Grant’s strokes, and as the bulk of Wesley made it’s way into Grant, Grant’s movements inside of me could but slow.