Brothers on the sofa

This will be my last installment on the pig party from last Saturday. I was there for so long, and the evening had several moods. It was difficult to roll them all into one entry.

There was a moment before the sex started, though, when all of us were down in the basement and outside of the dungeon door, removing our clothes. I was talking to Chaz, whom I’d very much enjoyed at the first of Hardy’s pig parties. When we weren’t fucking that first night, we’d spent a lot of time on Hardy’s sofa, talking about concerts we’d both attended and musical groups we admired. We were kind of catching up, Saturday night, as we removed our clothing at the bottom of the stairs, when out of the blue he asked, “So does Mike ever come with you to these things?”

“Mmmmike?” I repeated, not really understanding. Hardy’s friend, out-of-town Mike, was standing across the room. “He’s from Ohio. He’s Hardy’s friend, not mine.”

“Not that Mike,” said Chaz, gesturing with his head to the guy near us. “Your Mike. Mikey.”

I blinked several times, and realized exactly who he was talking about. I also realized that Chaz was letting me in on the fact he knew what Mikey was to me. “Oh. Mike. Well, I’m sure he would, but he and Hardy don’t know each other.”

Hardy was walking down the stairs, carrying bowls with the snacks I’d brought. “Who is this?” he asked, overhearing.

I opened my mouth to speak, though I didn’t know exactly what I planned to say. Chaz stepped in and smoothly announced, “One of his friends.” There was a certain flatness to the word ‘friends’ that let me know, if I’d had any lingering doubts, that Chaz had talked to Mikey at some point.

It wasn’t until later in the evening, after I’d fucked everybody there and fisted both out-of-town Mike and Hardy, that Chaz and I got a chance to talk again. We sat on the sofa, naked. Our limbs were intertwined together. He reached up and rubbed the back of my neck, hard, making me purr like a kitten. Hardy had laid down a towel on the cushions on my other side, and was leaning against me. “So I’m the only person who didn’t get to be in a sling tonight,” I said, after a moment.

The Silver Fox and out-of-town Mike were still playing with each other across the room. We watched them idly. “Did you want to be in a sling?” asked Chaz.

I kind of did, actually. If someone had offered to give me a really good rim job in one, I would’ve hopped right up. I would’ve tried the deceptively simple wrist restraints, and put my feet in the straps. No one asked, though, and I worried slightly about what would have happened after that, so I kept my mouth shut on the topic. “I got in my first sling at the age of fifteen,” I told them.

“No way,” said Chaz.

“Get out,” said Hardy. I nodded. It was the truth. “How old were you when you started messing around with guys?”

“Twelve,” I told them. “Started getting fucked at twelve, started whoring at fourteen, first sling at fifteen.”

They seemed both delighted and appalled by the confession. “I had a friend who put himself through school with money he made whoring himself,” he said. “He got me into it for two weeks because he told me it was easy cash. I didn’t like it, though. I wasn’t cut out for it.”

I grinned. “In my mid-twenties I actually made the down-payment on my first house with money I earned from selling myself in my teens.”

“Oh my god. You.” Hardy hopped to his feet, cracked his knuckles, and wandered off. I could tell he didn’t know whether to believe me or not.

Chaz ruffled my hair. “Was Mikey your first sling?”

I laughed. “No. Hardly.” Since we were alone, I decided to ask. “You know that Mike’s more than my friend, right?”

“He told me. We talked.” His hand reached down to my dick and began to stroke. After about four hours of non-stop action I was a little worn down, but I had enough oomph in me to get hard again.

“Okay. As long as you aren’t freaked by it?”

“I was surprised, but not really surprised,” he admitted. “My brother and I were active with each other when we were kids.”

“Younger or older?”

“He was older. So you and I are both younger brothers. Cool. Yeah, we played around for about four years, then he went totally straight. He’s married now, two kids. I try talking to him, but there’s always something left unsaid between us. I know he’s got to think about it. We just never talk in that direction.” When I let my hand drift down to between his legs, I discovered that Chaz was rock hard again as well. “So when Mike told me that you two . . . well, I kind of gathered you still do stuff.” I inclined my head to agree. “It’s hot.”

“Guys either find it totally hot, or totally repellant,” I admitted.

“I think my brother worries, when he looks at me. When he looks at me. . . .”

“. . . You think he’s worrying that he made you what you are? I think Mikey worries about that a lot.”

I’d spoken too soon, and wrongly. “No, I think he worries I might come on to him,” said Chaz. He thought about it a minute. “Maybe I should. Maybe I should just grab him and bone him. Bone the shit out of him.”

His voice was kidding, but his dick was not. “Mikey tends to be very competitive with me. We . . . compare notes,” I said. “Talk about things. Guys. After I tell him I’ve been with a man, three days later I’ll find out he’s sweet-talked his way there too.”

“Hilarious,” said Chaz, squeezing me. He kissed me. “And hot.”

“Mark my words. By Tuesday you’ll be writing me an email to say he’s been over to your place. It’ll happen.”

Hardy wandered back then with a drink, so we changed the topic to other, more general things. The Fox and out-of-town Mike finished up their fuck, and collapsed on the floor near us. The party was due to break up soon. We all could sense it, but we sat there for a few minutes and shot the shit until our heads had cleared enough to dress and go on our ways. “Say hi to Mike for me,” said Chaz as we parted.

“Who’s this other Mike person you guys keep talking about?” Hardy asked.

This time, both Chaz and I spoke simultaneously. “A friend.”

“Three days,” I told him, as I waved goodbye and walked off down the dark suburban street where I’d parked my car. “Mark my words.”

I got an email from Chaz, Monday night. It only took two, he wrote.