Finding Tim
A Fourth Alternate Reality
by Charlie
With editorial assistance from Dix and John
Wrestler
Well, we were home from Boston, trying to settle into our normal routines, as if anything about our lives was going to be normal. I marveled at how easily Tim slipped back into his practice routine. Both diving and gymnastics were going well. School was going well. His straight A average was never in doubt. His picture regularly peeked out from the sports pages of the local papers.
There was never a weekend without a meet or some other special event. The next of these was a trip to Ann Arbor, Michigan, to see Jim compete in the Michigan State High School Wrestling Meet. Again, we tried to limit the travel, and so it was decided that only the original eight members of the Gang would go to Ann Arbor, along with Jim's parents and his sister and Andy's parents. Tom's parents were there as well, as they hosted the Gang at their house.
We all flew and arranged for our flights to get into Detroit as close to the same time as possible. We gathered in the Detroit airport where we were met by Tom with his car and Andy and his parents with a car. Jim and his family were driving directly to Tom's house, where the two cars from the airport joined them.
Tom's folks, Sam and Beverly, greeted us all warmly and invited us in. We were fifteen strong-eight in the Gang, six parents, and Jim's sister Phyllis. Beverly was ready with drinks and refreshments, and we all seemed to pick up our conversations from where they left off at my archery meet. At about 5:30 Beverly pulled a few of the boys into the kitchen and had them carry a cold cut buffet into the dining room. It was quite a spread, and we were all hungry. We wiped out the food in short order. As we were sitting around the living room after the supper, Sam got up and spoke to the group. "First, welcome. Especially to Jim and his family, welcome, and good luck tomorrow. Now, here are the sleeping arrangements. My brother, Adam, lives about two miles from here in a huge house. He and his wife live alone, having four kids college age or older. They have lots of room, and that's where all of the parents are going. Along with Phyllis. You eight boys have this house to yourselves. I have talked to Jim and Andy's parents, and the six of us agree that we don't want to know the details of how you sleep. Phyllis wants to know the details, but we doubt you're going to tell her. We leave for Ann Arbor at 7:30 tomorrow morning, and we're going to eat breakfast on the road. The meet starts at 10."
At that the six parents and Phyllis got up and headed out. Soon they were gone and the eight of us were sitting alone in the living room wondering what would come next.
I broke the silence. "This is Jim's night. Jim, how do you want to spend it?"
Andy immediately spoke up, "Listen, Jim, I know you would feel guilty saying anything but, 'With Andy'. But we spend as much time together as we like. Tonight let some of your fantasies become real."
Jim responded, "Andy, do you really mean that? You aren't just saying it?"
Tim jumped right in. "Around here we always tell the truth, and we always accept what others say as the truth."
Andy said, "That's right. I meant everything I said; that's why I said it."
Jim said, "Thanks, Andy. I do love you." Then he turned toward the whole group, "I know exactly what fantasy I want to come true. Tom, is there a king size bed?"
Tom answered, "My parents', and it's available."
Jim continued, "Charlie and Tim, I want to spoon between the two of you. I don't promise that that's all that's going to happen, but it makes a good starting point."
Franklin said, "Let's strip the three of them, spank them good, and send them up to bed."
I was the first to lose my clothes, and then I quickly learned that Franklin is not always a gentle giant. His idea of a gentle spanking could sting a little! Jim was next, and he got the same treatment, except that Andy was detailed to spank him. Then it was Tim's turn. Before they could catch him he had stripped and run upstairs. They could have caught him and dragged him back, but it seemed to be accepted that he had escaped fair and square. Jim and I were escorted upstairs and pushed into the master bedroom, where Tim was standing in the middle of the room. Andy then announced, "Tomorrow morning you can have your clothes back only when you have given us a complete blow by blow of the evening's events. Perhaps even a demonstration. Good night."
With that the door was closed, and the three of us were staring at each other, with eyes focused more on genitalia than other body parts.
At six the next morning the other five members of the Gang came in the door-all stark nude. They were holding our overnight bags which had been left in the hall downstairs. Tom spoke. "Unless you want to go to the gym naked, we expect a complete blow by blow of the evening. Jim, you're the story teller."
Jim was a good story teller. "Tim has the softest dick I have ever had in my mouth. It was wonderful."
Franklin said, "Start at the beginning."
"That was the beginning!"
"Tell the story from the beginning."
"OK. You left us standing stark naked in Tom's parents room, this big king size bed staring up at us. And I was staring at two of the most delicious hunks you can imagine. And my imagination had been running rampant about these two for years! It was clear that they were going to wait for me to make the first move. I wanted desperately to grab someone, hug them, kiss them, do all kinds of things to them. But who? Or, at least who first?
"At this point I have to apologize to Charlie and Andy. Sorry guys, but Tim is just the most fabulous piece of human flesh I have ever seen. When I look at him I drool, then I picture him on the trampoline, or diving, or on that horse thing, or flinging off his clothes, or lying nude on the bed, or standing there naked in front of me--which is exactly what he was doing. My dick, and legs, and arms, and lips all went into gear at once. I stepped up to him, grabbed him, hugged him tight, kissed him deeply, and we fell onto the bed together.
"The only thing better than hugging Tim is having Tim hug you. The only thing better than kissing Tim is having Tim kiss you. And he did both with wild abandon. We hugged, kissed, released each other, rolled a little, and started over. I'm not sure how long this lasted, but I finally realized that we had to move forward. I pulled Tim to me, spooning his backside to my front. Then I patted my ass and said 'Charlie.' Charlie got the hint and spooned behind me. I'm not sure how long we lay there that way; I think we snoozed a little. Eventually my hand started exploring Tim's front, and I encouraged Charlie to do the same to me. We were totally calm now, but our hands explored our whole bodies. Soon Tim had wiggled so that his dick was near my mouth, and I took it in, sucking it slightly. Then I felt Charlie doing the same to me.
"Things went very slowly; nobody seemed to be in a rush. But eventually I felt Tim jerking and I tasted his cum. This pushed me over the edge, but with wild jerking that made me lose my mouthhold on Tim. Then I felt Charlie kissing me, while Tim seemed to be massaging my genitals. There was nothing I could do but lay back and enjoy.
"Sleep followed, and it was disturbed only by you guys. What time is it anyway?"
"About 6:30."
Tim picked up the story. "Jim was sound asleep. I had had my pleasure, but Charlie was clearly still very horny. I asked him what he wanted, and he just pulled my hands to his groin. A quick hand job seemed to be all he wanted, and that's what he got. He was tired, and didn't even let me clean him up before he rolled over and went to sleep. I followed quickly behind."
Franklin said, "That explains Charlie's mess."
Tom said, "Do you think they have earned their clothes back?"
Hal said, "Not a chance. I want to see this three person spooning that they bragged about. Go for it guys."
Jim, Tim and I easily wiggled into our spoon position. I let my hand slide over Jim to Tim, and reached around and grabbed his balls. He sort of cooed in response; and he wiggled. But now Jim was getting the benefit of the wiggle and not me! We lay there a while till Franklin said, "OK, guys, on your backs. Close your eyes."
We felt a sheet draped over our heads, and then our dicks being sucked. We couldn't tell who was sucking whom, and they never told us. But it wasn't long before three unknown Gang members were having a pre-breakfast. With that, the five of them were gone, our overnight bags left behind.
Tim and I took Jim to the shower. Tom's folks had a large shower stall; we put Jim in it and I knelt near him. Tim handed me a soapy washcloth and I started in at the obvious place, while Tim started in on his shoulders, breast, nipples, and stomach. It wasn't long before he was both clean and hard. I said, "Ready to go again?" He didn't speak, but pulled my head towards him. I made sure he was rinsed, and took him in my mouth and let my tongue do its dirty work. It hadn't been but a few minutes ago that he had come on the bed. Oh, to be eighteen again! He very quickly had me tasting him. This was followed by his hands taking my head and pulling him up to kiss him. His tongue demanded that I share with him. Meanwhile, Tim was on his knees insinuating himself between Jim and me so that he could get his mouth on my dick. To my own surprise, I came very quickly. I then picked Tim up and held him in front of Jim, who gleefully sucked him. Tim had no trouble having his second ejaculation of the morning, the third in about ten hours.
The shower was crowded with three, so we took turns rinsing, but we all insisted on drying each other.
At breakfast, the parents were true to their word; none asked any questions about the night before. I suspected that once each family was alone that details might be provided. But breakfast conversation was about wrestling. Jim tried to explain the rather arcane weight rules for high school wrestling. He weighted 132 pounds, and so wrestled in the 130 to 135 pound weight class. Highly competitive wrestlers controlled their weight, and lost weight before the season in order to wrestle in a lower weight class. Jim absolutely refused to do that. Whether his coach liked it or not, he was who he was, weighed what he weighed, and that's where he wrestled. To put even more pressure on kids to lose more weight than was healthy for them, half way through the season, on the assumption that teenagers naturally put on weight as they grow through the year, an extra three pounds is allowed in each weight class. Some kids used this as opportunity to drop down a class, by losing only minimal weight. These rules encouraged unhealthy diet and weight patterns, and have been changed significantly over the years.
If Jim made it to the finals this year, he would meet the same wrestler who had beaten him last year. A bigger kid, who dieted heavily before the season to make a lower weight class, and then used the three pound rule to drop down to Jim's 130-135 class. Jim had lost to him pretty badly last year, but had refused to get into the "making weight" game in order to wrestle in a lower weight class this year. He was optimistic about making the finals, but not about winning against big Paul (for Paul Bunyon) from Ironwood, Michigan, in the UP.
We all tried to encourage him as best we could. He assured us that our all being there was the best thing we could do for him. He also suggested that "last night" didn't hurt.
Jim was right, getting to the finals wasn't difficult for him. He was a good wrestler, in excellent physical condition, and had an incredibly even temper which kept him cool in almost any situation.
The final match in his weight class came in late afternoon. It was Jim and big Paul, matched up as last year, except one weight class heavier. The Gang made sure that it made its way to the center mats in time to get good seats. We spread apart, so just about any direction Jim would look, he would see one of us. If he didn't see us, then he would see parents, sister or teammates. Every time we saw him look our way, we gave him a thumbs up.
I am afraid that I don't really understand the fine points of wrestling, or even much of what's going on. I do know that it puts a lot of nearly nude, very sexy teenage boys on display for all to see. But I digress. Despite the distractions, I was able to keep myself focused on Jim, including parts of him that the rest of the fans would never see! I don't know what Jim's mind focused on; but big Paul must have wished it was focusing somewhere else. To Paul's great surprise, and maybe even more to Jim's, they were tied 7-7 at the end of the match and it had to go into overtime. The first to score any point would win. If no points were scored through two overtimes, the match was a tie. They grabbed, grunted, pushed, strained, and stretched through the first overtime with no score. The second produced more effort, but no more score until a swift move by Jim took big Paul down, with what I am told was a duck-under. It was the first score, one point, of either overtime, and won the match for Jim, 8-7. I'll never forget the look on big Paul's face-as if he really didn't understand what had happened to him. I learned a little later that he had been undefeated through three seasons, and now was ending his high school career with his only loss since 9th grade.
I really admired Jim. As Paul got up, Jim put his arm around him and they walked off the mat together. Paul was in tears. If you hate to see a grown man cry, seeing a tough athlete cry is worse. Jim ignored the officials that wanted to award him a medal. He ignored us, the crowd, and his teammates. He stood with Paul, quietly talking for about ten minutes. The two of them walked back to the mat together. Paul had pulled himself together, shook Jim's hand, and said, "Congratulations. It takes a good man to beat big Paul, and I just met him. Maybe I'll get even on the college circuit. Jim hugged Paul, who stepped aside and let the officials do their thing. It was an anticlimax, but Jim proudly accepted his trophy, as did Paul. But we knew that taking the second place trophy hurt a lot. But he managed a smile, and the scene ended quite gracefully.
Tim leaned over to me and said, "I feel sorry for Paul. But if I ever get that confident of first place, kick me in the ass. You don't have to be first to be good."
I said, "You certainly expect firsts in all your swimming meets."
"Not true, Charlie, at least on the springboard. You look at my trophy pile in the basement, quite a few seconds, even a few thirds, but they're pretty old, thank God."
Hal was standing on the other side of Tim and heard the conversation. He interjected, "I've seen Tim get a couple of those seconds. He grins just as much as he does for a first; in fact I think more. He tends to be pretty sober when he gets a first, because he doesn't want to appear cocky or smug. In second, that isn't a worry, and he grins like a monkey."
Tim said, "I mean it, Charlie, I desperately want a couple of Olympic medals; I truly don't care about the color."
I believed him.
Jim's folks were the hosts for dinner that evening. They had found a restaurant on the west side of Ann Arbor that had a large private dining room that could hold a big crowd. It had set up a modest, but plentiful, buffet on a side table, and everyone was able to sit at round tables for eight. I wondered how we were going to fill the room, after all there were just the fifteen of us, weren't there?
Wrong. Walter and Trudi, Jim's folks, clearly had other ideas. People seemed to be coming from everywhere. First I saw big Paul, with his parents, coach, and the entire Ironwood delegation-two other wrestlers, three parents, two girlfriends. Jim's coach and his wife, and the entire Flint contingent-about 13 of them. A number of others there were never really explained, invited by Jim, Walter, Trudi, or who knows whom else. Walter seemed all the more delighted as each new person arrived and helped to fill the tables. Tim and I made our way over to big Paul and introduced ourselves. Paul recognized Tim and asked, "How do you fit in here? I know the papers say you do a lot, but I didn't think you were a wrestler."
Tim said, "I'm not, but Charlie and I are old friends of Jim and we wanted to be here to support him."
Paul said, "I suspect you supported me out of the title." It was said good naturedly, and with a little bit of a grin on his face.
Tim said, "I think you're right; and you can't imagine how wonderful it is to see you smiling about it."
Paul said, "It hit me pretty hard. Three years undefeated, it sort of becomes an expectation. I can't believe that I broke down and cried. Your Jim is quite a guy; he seemed more concerned about me than about getting his trophy. Then his parents came up and insisted that I come here tonight, with all of us from Ironwood. We aren't heading back until tomorrow morning, so we were just going to eat at a diner or some hamburger joint. This is really nice."
Jim joined us, along with Andy. Jim said, "Paul, glad you could come. Let me introduce my friend Andy. He and his folks were part of my cheering section today."
They greeted each other, and Paul said, "I know all about your cheering section. I hate them all." It was said with an even bigger grin than before.
Andy said, "You should. The same bunch were at Charlie's archery meet a few weeks ago and he set a personal best way over his head. Hal ran a spectacular marathon being urged on by the same crowd."
"Are all of you guys super athletes? Just what was I up against?"
"Just eight really good friends who love and support each other. Really only four athletes in the bunch."
Franklin came up and was introduced. Paul said, "I saw you in the front row. I'm glad that I didn't have to wrestle you."
"That's why they have weight classes. But you were up against my cheering."
"I'm learning; I'm learning."
Jim said, "Paul, my beating you was pure luck. You're the better wrestler. We saw that last year when you creamed me. But this group is on a roll right now, and I was able to hold even with you for the regular match. In fact, you scored the first points in the match. As evenly matched-at least for today-as we were, it was pure luck who was going to get the first point in overtime. I got lucky. In a way I'm happy, in another way I'm really sorry to have broken your streak. But out on the mat, those considerations don't matter. We both tried our best. I couldn't do otherwise. And I know you couldn't."
"I was so pissed at you at the time I could have.... I don't know. But you're right. And you certainly won fair and square. And it didn't hurt just then to have you say that it was luck. Another thing, Jim. You don't have that lean, mean look of a wrestler that has taken off weight to get ready for the season. What's your normal weight?'
"132, exactly the weight I wrestled at. Actually I'm up four pounds during the season-I weighed in at 136."
"You're kidding! Your coach didn't push you to get down a weight class or two?"
"He pushed a little, but he knew better than to push hard. I figure I'll wrestle at my weight, and if I can't win at that weight, tough."
"My God, if you were able to hold even with me without pushing down a weight class, then you really did win fair and square. I think you're the only trophy winner in the tournament, except the heavyweights, that didn't control their weight to at least go down one class. And then there are those-like me sometimes, but thank goodness not today-that have to dehydrate themselves to make weight, because they have pushed themselves too far. I really admire you. But I guess that I'm just more wound up in my wrestling. It's no wonder I beat you last year, and a miracle we were so evenly matched this year."
Tim jumped in. "Last year Jim didn't even tell us about the tournament until it was over and he had second place. He was afraid that we would push him into heavier competition. But each person has to make those decisions for himself. We're here to support him no matter what decision he makes. And we're going to be looking for you to make your mark at the college level."
All of a sudden Jim looked stricken. He stammered as he said, "ScScScholarship. You're looking at a college scholarship. Today didn't screw that up did it? Please tell me no."
"No. I'm lined up at the University of Michigan for next year, and I already have my commitment letter. I'm going to get kidded a lot back in Ironwood, and here in Ann Arbor in the fall; but that just goes with the territory. But the scholarship is secure."
With that Jim grabbed Paul, hugged him tight, and sort of laid his head on Paul's shoulder. "Thank goodness. I would have been devastated if I had cost you a scholarship."
"What about you?" asked Paul. "If Michigan is willing to pay me to come here, then they ought to talk to the guy who beat me."
"They might. But I'm not interested. I'll be here next year, but not on an athletic scholarship. As I said, my commitment to wrestling isn't that strong, and accepting a wrestling scholarship would make demands that I couldn't accept."
"I understand," said Paul. "But I'm committed, and the scholarship will make it possible for me to come here. Otherwise I'd be at a community college in the UP."
Paul looked at Tim and said, "I can't believe I'm meeting Tim, the kid with no last name, who dives like a submarine, and kisses on the cover of Sports Illustrated. God you have guts." Then he looked at me, and realized who I was. "You're the Charlie, man of the same cover, and gay lover. You've got as many guts as Tim."
I said, "It's a lot easier to come out as gay lovers when you already have established yourself, as Tim had."
"Even so, I admire you. We had a couple of gay kids in Ironwood; I'm sorry to say that the school didn't do well by them-at least the students. The principal and faculty were OK. For about a week, we had to keep one member of the wrestling team with each of them. They seriously needed protection."
"How did that fall to the wrestling team?" Tim asked.
"One member of the team was a close friend of one of the boys. The day after they were outed our team member came to the team and said, 'Jimmy and Leon got beat up this morning on the way to school, just because they're gay. Who's going to help me escort them home this afternoon?' Every hand went up. I was really surprised. We'd never had a queer in the school.... Oh my God, that's not the right word, is it? I'm afraid that old habits die hard. Sorry."
Tim jumped right in. "I used queer too, until Charlie insisted on gay. But any kid that'll put himself on the line like you did can use any word they like. I'm impressed."
"In any case, it wasn't an issue that the team had ever talked about, much less had any experience with. But we knew beating up kids on the way to school was wrong, and we stepped in."
Tim asked, "How about your football team? They can make or break a situation like that."
The football coach got them together and simply read the riot act to them. He wasn't sure where they stood, but he made it clear that any one of them that did or said anything out of line would be off the team, permanently, no questions asked, no appeal, no nothing. He meant it, and they knew it. A couple helped us, but the rest stayed way clear of the whole situation."
Tim said, "My kind of school. I have always said that if the school wants to, it can control the nastiness. Some actually encourage it."
Paul asked, "How about your school?"
Tim said, "They have been great. The principal was in on all the planning for the coming out. But it's a lot easier when the first morning at school after you come out there is a press conference featuring Sports Illustrated. I know Charlie and I had it easy, and I really feel for kids that don't have the advantages that we had. But the kids in Ironwood had you, and the football coach, and evidently the principal. That makes all the difference. God, I'm glad you're here tonight; I love hearing stories like that. It really feels good."
Paul asked, "So where do you all come from? You're Twin Cities, right?"
Jim jumped in, "I'm from Flint. Andy from Alma. Tom from Detroit. Tim, Charlie and Hal from Minnesota. Ronnie from Madison. And Franklin from Kansas."
"He's here just for this tournament?"
"Just for this tournament. His partner would have come too, but we asked that it just be our Gang of eight this weekend. Partners stayed home."
"Are you guys all gay?"
"No, just Charlie, me and Franklin. Jim and Andy get carried away from time to time, but they have girlfriends. I think they're in between right now."
"I wish Jimmy and Leon could meet you. They really need to know they aren't alone in the world."
Tim pulled out a business card-well not a business card; I guess you would call it a personal card. He had gotten them for the myriad times that he wanted to give someone his address. In fact, he had two cards, one with his phone number and one without. He was much more cautious about handing out the phone number, but that's what Paul got. "Give them this and tell them to please call. I'd love to talk to them."
Paul said thanks and that he hoped that they would. With that we all sort of drifted apart to new conversations. I got to talking with Trudi. Well, actually, Trudi seemed to have been watching and headed my way when our talking with Paul ended. She started right in, "Charlie, I don't believe what Walter and I did last night. We walked out of Tom's house knowing that the eight of you were going to have some kind of sex. And we weren't even upset. Before your visit a couple of years ago, we would have grabbed Jim and headed home when that was even hinted at."
"Did you know Sam's announcement was coming-that the parents were all going to leave?"
"Yes. Sam called us about two weeks ago and said that was what Tom hoped we would do. Sam talked to Curtis and Melanie-Andy's folks-too. In fact, I think that he called all of the parents, except Tim's. He knew Norman and Betsy were comfortable with Tim.
"He got one of two answers from everyone. Either, 'We're comfortable with the kids making their own decisions'; or 'Is Charlie going to be there? If Charlie's going to be there, we're OK with it'."
I chuckled. "Little do they know. I was right in the middle of it last night. You do understand that, don't you?"
"Oh, yes. The boys are grown up. They aren't your campers any more. And they all love you, Charlie. That's the word they use. All the time."
"I love them, too."
"Life has changed since your visit, Charlie. We got up the nerve to ask Jim about drinking. He does, more than we thought. But we also know that he and his buddies are really careful about having a driver who doesn't drink. And we are sure he's telling the truth about that. He's a little queasy about talking to us about his sex life, so we don't push him. But we do trust him. His grades have improved, and he and Walter have had some good times stewing over some of his homework assignments. Your wedding, well I guess it was a commitment service, but we think of it as a wedding...."
"That makes me feel wonderful."
"Good. It was there that we realized just what a great bunch you guys are. And how sexy. Jim has hinted about his night with you, but he isn't comfortable about talking about the details. So, when Sam called about sleeping arrangements, we knew what we were saying 'Yes' to, and we were comfortable saying it. Charlie, how comfortable are you in talking about last night?"
"I guess you're making me put my money where my mouth is. I guess that may have been a poor choice of words."
"Or a good choice?" asked Trudi.
I laughed a little. "Jim was the honored guest last night. We all let him call the tune. He slept with Tim and me. There isn't much that could have happened that didn't. Just how many details do you want?"
"Charlie, I'm going to be blunt. I guess I could be with Jim, but I think he needs to take the lead in talking to us about sex. I take it that you all are into oral sex. How about anal sex?"
"Well, that's being blunt, all right. The answer is 'No.' I don't know what Jim and Andy do alone together, but the group has never had any kind of anal sex. I'll be perfectly straight with you. Tim and I sometimes do, but very seldom. And we never do with anyone else. I'm not sure I can explain why. But that's our rule."
"Well, you taught us not to ask questions if we couldn't deal with the answers. That put me to the test. I don't know what I really think, but I guess I'm glad to know that you all do actually have limits."
"We have lots of limits. Never behind anyone's back is rule number one. Always done in love is rule number two. After that, we exercise good common sense and a hearty respect for each other."
"I wish life's rules could really be that simple. Maybe they are, and we work at making things more complex than they have to be. Oh, well. I don't really know what I'm talking about. Charlie, thank's for your honesty. I just want you to know that you're the best thing that ever happened to Jim."
"Thank you, Trudi," was all I could say.
Conversations were going on all over the room. And the people from different places seemed to be talking to each other. Most of the conversations were fairly casual, and I have no idea of the specifics. Walter and Trudi were delighted with the success of the dinner.
It was fun to watch the buzz slowly go around the room as people figured out who Tim and I were-emphasis on Tim, I had no status except as Tim's partner. Soon there were tentative requests for signatures: some included me. Some sought out Jim, but he refused to sign any that Paul hadn't signed first. A few figured out that the Gang of eight was an interesting set of signatures to get, and Jim did break his rule to sign as part of the Gang.
After everyone had eaten, and conversations seemed to be fading, Walter got everyone's attention. After the usual thank yous for coming, and hopes that everyone liked the dinner, he got serious. He insisted that the Gang stand up in front, and he told a little of the history of how we had come to be. Then he went on: "There're two important things about this Gang of eight. First, they truly love each other and would do anything for each other. Each one is vastly better as a member of this Gang than he ever would have been alone. Big Paul found that out this afternoon. I'm sorry Paul, but when the rest of the Gang decided to be at Jim's match today, your fate was sealed. Second, you need to know that this extraordinary group of eight is going to have three of its members on the United States Olympic team: Hal running the marathon; did you know he was ninth in Boston this spring? Charlie in archery; with the seven others behind him he just aced a match in Iowa; already shooting at Olympic levels. Tim will be that rare competitor that competes in two major sports: swimming (actually diving) and gymnastics. If trampoline were an Olympic sport, I think he would be a competitor in that as well. I'm going to make a prediction: At least six medals between them. One other thing, and this is for you, Paul, as well as others. Tim, and the others, refuse to talk about the color of medal they might win. Bronze hangs on the wall just as well as silver or gold.
"I want to say just one other thing: Jim's life has been utterly changed because of this Gang of eight. And my life, and my wife Trudi's life, have been changed almost as much. We're different people, and a much stronger family for knowing Charlie, Tim, Tom, Ronnie, Andy, Franklin, and Hal. Thank you, to all of you."
The party continued another hour, with people leaving at different times. I think that the Flint contingent was first, as they were driving back that evening. Ironwood stayed until the bitter end; Paul simply couldn't get enough of being with Jim, Tim, and the others. On his way out he told Walter, "You know, I'm glad I lost today. If I had won Jim would have gone one way and me the other, like last year. I wouldn't think of trading that bigger trophy for this evening. Thank you."
Jim was standing there, and he whispered in Paul's ear, "Do you want a hug or a kiss?"
Paul didn't answer, but pulled Jim toward him in a big hug, followed by a very quick kiss. Paul was learning but he had a ways to go. We all understood-we had all learned the same lesson at one time or another..
Back at Tom's we all sat down in the living room and rehashed the day. Jim said, "You know, last year I would have said big Paul was just a conceited little shit. I think maybe he was. But getting beaten today brought out the best in him."
Tim said, "No. You didn't hear the story of his wrestling team protecting a couple of gay kids that were outed at his school. He's a good kid; you just couldn't see it last year, because you just saw the stereotype of a typical conceited jock. But he wasn't, and he isn't. We were lucky to get to know him. Keep in touch next year at Michigan, Jim."
I said, "How're we sleeping tonight?"
Someone said, "Two by two."
"OK. I'm going to sleep with Charlie." Much to my surprise that bit of aggressive jumping in first came from Ronnie.
I said, "First to speak. Ronnie it is."
Hal said, "Franklin and I claim the king size bed-he's the biggest here. At least I think he is. He has the biggest dick too."
Tom said, "Andy, do you want Tim tonight? Jim was with him last night?"
Jim said, "No, I need Andy tonight. This was my biggest day in a long, long time. I can't imagine ending it with anyone but Andy."
Tim and Tom looked at each other. Tim moved over to Tom, hugged him tight, and said, "I think you and I get the smallest bed. That's good, the tighter to hold you." Tom just smiled and hugged back.
Ronnie and I were in what Tom called the guest room. It had a double bed, a couple of nice chairs, dressers, and not much else. Ronnie sat down in a chair and waited for me to sit in the other one. Then he spoke: "Charlie, I'm very conflicted inside about this evening. I have dreamed about it ever since the night before your commitment, when you and Tim and I slept together."
"Nothing happened that night, Ronnie."
"Oh, yes it did. I crossed a line, a line in my mind. I realized that just as you talk about there being a little straight in you; there's a little gay in me. That took some getting used to. More than one night, which is why nothing happened, even the next morning. Charlie, I want something to happen tonight. But I don't know what. That's up to you."
I said, "Ronnie, it's up to you as well."
Ronnie stood up and began to undress. I said, "Would you like me to help you with that?"
"No. There's something exciting about this. I have undressed in front of you many times-we lived in the same room at camp. But knowing that this time it's going to lead to sex changes it." His shoes, socks, and shirt were off, and he was beginning to unbuckle his belt. I could see that he was getting hard under his jeans. His hands were shaking a little as he loosened the belt and undid the top button and zipper. Very slowly he pulled them down and slipped them off. He seemed frozen in place, and said, "I guess I would like you to help."
I got up, walked over to him as he stood there in front of his chair. I got down on my knees in front of him, grabbed his briefs near his hips, and very slowly pulled them down. I got my face so close that when the elastic band let his penis go it came up and hit my nose. He laughed, and that sort of broke the ice. I pulled his briefs off, stood up, stepped back, and looked at him. I said, "You have grown since that first summer. You now have a man's organs. What do you want to happen to them?"
"May I undress you?"
"Of course."
He started with my shirt. Then gently pushed me down on the bed, with my feet hanging off the bottom. He unlaced my shoes and slipped them off; then my socks-tickling my feet in the process. Usually when Tim and I undressed each other, we took care of our own shoes. I think that this was the first time that anyone had taken off my shoes and made it erotic. I knew that I was going to be in for an interesting evening with Ronnie-even if he was totally inexperienced.
"Stand up." I did. He didn't just unbuckle my belt, he removed it. He stepped behind me and reached into my pockets and removed everything, managing to disturb the items underneath in the process. Then the top button, still from behind. He turned me around and faced me; then knelt down and undid the zipper. Slowly the pants came down, leaving an obviously hard dick trying to poke out from under my briefs. He used his teeth to pull down the briefs, and I stepped out of them.
The he stoop up, faced me, and slowly enveloped me in his arms, and I did the same to him. We stood a long time, and then backed up enough so that we could kiss. I sort of expected to feel his tongue try to enter my mouth, but it didn't come. I decided to push, and my tongue went into his mouth, fought its way through his teeth and found his tongue. Our tongues danced a little bit, and suddenly Ronnie completely lost it. He grabbed me tight, rammed his tongue as far into me as he could, passionately kissing harder than I think I had ever experienced. It was as if a trigger had finally gone off. Soon we were rolling on the bed, never having released our kiss. Slowly his hands crept down my body. They couldn't get to my nipples, but he found my buns, then the crack between them; then they worked their way around my hip and to my balls. I did the same for him. Then my hand reached up to his penis and I began to rub it.
All this time we had never released that first kiss, and Ronnie showed no inclination to do so. He came in my hand, accompanied by a shaking of his whole body, but the kiss didn't end. My hand was covered in his cum and I pulled it out and brought it up to our faces, working in between our cheeks and toward our lips. Ronnie loosened his grip enough to take some of it in, and then returned to kissing me just as hard as before. I could taste a little of his cum, and I presumed that he could too. But still there was no inclination to stop. I decided that this was Ronnie's evening, and just lay there, hugging and kissing him back. Slowly he let go, moving his face down my body to my nipples, belly button, pubic hair, and penis. As soon as his mouth wrapped around my penis, I came. He didn't let go, but held me as he continued to use his tongue to keep me excited and tried to swallow my cum. Finally, the whole mess was too much for both of us. We separated, and he fell with his head on my stomach, utterly exhausted. We were both silent for long time, and finally Ronnie said, "My God. I don't believe that. God, Charlie, it was wonderful. I was completely out of control, like I was on autopilot. But clearly headed the right direction. Thank you."
"Don't thank me, let me thank you. It was just as exciting for me, you know."
"Charlie, I'm a little scared of how I got out of control. What if I was going too far and couldn't stop?"
"Ronnie, you don't need to worry. You may have felt that you were out of control, but you were getting positive feedback from me the whole time. If I had pulled away from you and said, 'Ronnie, please slow down, I'm not ready for this,' you would have stopped-or slowed down. You're a responsible young man. But you were in a situation where I was utterly delighted that you were 'out of control' and enjoyed every minute of it. Whoever is going to be your life partner is in for one Hell of a ride."
"Oh, Charlie, I hope you're right. I really do think that you are. Do you think among my scientist friends that I'm going to find a partner?"
"Ronnie, out there somewhere, in the great halls of science, is another young genius, worrying about whether he or she is going to find a truly exciting partner amongst all of the scientific nerds he or she has to work with. You'll find each other. Trust me."
"I love you, Charlie."
"I love you Ronnie, along with all of the Gang. But, except for Tim, I have never been taken for the erotic ride that you just took me on. You're something special."
"I don't compete with Tim, huh?"
"Nobody competes with Tim, at least for me."
"That means that I'm going to have to try Tim out. Will you let me?"
"Of course, Ronnie. The time will come; but I'm afraid not this trip."
"There is tomorrow morning."
"You don't miss a trick, do you? There's Tom to think of."
"Don't you think Tom would like to wake up tomorrow morning with you? Wait, don't answer that. I'm going to go ask Tom." With that, without a stitch of clothing on, he headed to the room where Tim and Tom were sleeping-or doing other things.
Soon, Tom arrived, equally devoid of clothes. "God, Charlie, I get to go to bed with Tim and wake up with you. What a deal."
"I take it that Ronnie persuaded you to trade partners. What did Tim think?"
"He's still chuckling. He thinks its funny. He told me to tell you that he has always had a thing for Ronnie, and you, Charlie, will just have take second place for the evening."
"I should go over and break those two up, and spank Tim good."
"I already did, Charlie; at least I got in one good whack before he escaped."
"You did better than most."
"Charlie, I'm really looking forward to tonight-even if we are starting late. I know that I got sucked two months ago. But my times sleeping with you have all been hands off. We're past that tonight, right?"
"Right Tom. Let's go to bed, let your hands roam; nothing's off limits. Tomorrow morning we can really explore each other. Who knows what might happen?"
"If my dreams are in any way accurate, I know what the morning will bring."
"Don't tell me, surprise me."
He crawled into bed, and didn't hesitate to let his hands roam where they had previously been forbidden. I followed suit. But it was late, and we had both had sex with different partners in the past hour or so. Now was the time for sleep, and we did exactly that, quite quickly and peacefully.
Peace did not reign the next morning. I awoke to find my dick in Tom's mouth, getting a thorough workover. I gently pushed him away, as I hoped that the pleasure might be a little more prolonged. He said, "I just wanted to wake you up. I seem to have succeeded."
I said, "Tom, lay in the middle of the bed. I would like to explore your body, top to bottom, ending in the middle." I did precisely that. Ending with his balls in my hand, examining them very closely; rolling them around, poking around behind them. I moved slowly to his penis. It was hard as a rock, and I took the time to scrutinize every part.
Tom said, "Charlie, nobody has ever looked at me like that, not even a doctor; not Nancy, nobody. I feel naked and exposed; vulnerable. But with you doing it, it's one of the sexiest experiences of my life. Kiss me, please."
"Where?"
"My balls, silly."
I did, very slowly, deeply, softly. He came as I did, getting it on my face and hair. I pulled up and kissed him on the lips, and he kissed back almost as hard as Ronnie had. Then he attacked my dick, with only scant attempts to make it gentle. It felt good, but not for long, as I was soon exploding in his mouth. He gagged a little, but swallowed it all, and then kissed me on the mouth. We lay like that a while, and he said, "Let's go visit Tim and Ronnie."
When we got there, they both looked spent, but contented. Tim looked up and saw us. He said, "Wow, Ronnie's the best kept secret of the Gang. They have been lining up for you, Charlie, but after word of this night gets out, they're going to be lining up for Ronnie."
Tom said, "Is that so? Well, Ronnie, here we are. We're both nude. I'm still horny. There's a bed. Let's throw Tim out of it, and see what happens."
What happened is that Tom and Ronnie kissed, hugged, and sucked until both of them came a second time that morning. Tim and I watched. That can be almost as exciting as actually doing something-especially when you have the kind of relationship with the participants that we did.
Then Ronnie said, "We want to watch you two. You're the experienced duo. Let's see you do your stuff."
Tom said, "Wait, let's go up to the king size bed, get the other four, and then let them show all of us how it's done."
I said, "Guys, don't you think sex might be a little more private than that?"
All three of them, including Tim, answered, "No. This is the Gang."
Tim said, "Let's go, Charlie, before I chicken out."
Franklin and Hal were sleeping. Tim didn't hesitate a minute, but jumped on Franklin saying, "Awake, sleepyhead. It's time for sex."
Hal responded with a sort of grunt; Franklin about the same.
Tim said, "Out of the bed. Charlie and I are going to use it. Tom go get Jim'nAndy, while I explain all of this to Franklin and Hal.
Tom returned without the last two, saying they were "preoccupied."
Tim said, "Franklin, go get Andy. Charlie, you and Hal bring Jim. I don't care what their state of affairs is."
Their state of affairs resembled the number 69, and Franklin didn't have the heart to break them up. Instead he sent Hal to go get Tim, Tom and Ronnie. Soon all six were surrounding the bed, cheering them on. It wasn't clear whether this was heightening the sex or dampening it, but they tried their best to ignore us. Perhaps they succeeded, because soon one and then the other was swallowing breakfast, accompanied by raucous cheers.
"What the Hell are you doing here?" asked Andy.
"Watching," said Franklin.
Jim said, "I'll have to admit it added to the excitement."
Andy said, "Let's see. We have eight boys, well I guess Charlie can be considered a boy, at least at a time like this. We have eight hard dicks. There must be some sort of logic to all of this. Would you like to share?"
"Sure, said Tom. Charlie and Tim are about to have sex on the king size bed with all of us for an audience. First it was going to be with just Ronnie and me watching, but in fairness that got expanded. Come on."
Franklin picked me up, and Hal picked up Tim, and they led the parade to the king size bed, where Tim and I were gently placed in the middle. Tim looked at me and said, "Fuck me Charlie. Love me and fuck me."
That was not what I had expected! I had fucked Tim exactly once. He had fucked me exactly the same number of times. We had agreed that we would save anal sex for just ourselves. Now, here he was asking me to fuck him in front of the other six. Well, I had my "Say Yes" rule, and I didn't think that there was any real reason to say 'No.' So, "Yes" it was.
I said, "OK," and rolled him on his back. Magically, one of the six produced a jar of vasoline with the comment, "No, KY."
Tim put his feet in the air and used his hands to spread his cheeks. I lubed him good, and started to stick my finger in to loosen him. "No finger," he said.
"OK."
The six were spread around the bed, all looking intently. When Jim and Andy had been going at it, they cheered and encouraged. Now, there was silence. I think that they understood that Tim had invited us all to something special, something just for the eight of us.
It was in that spirit that I approached him, pressing the head of my penis against his anus. He pushed against me, and I was inside. He didn't wait for my action, he shoved hard, pulled back, and shoved again. I joined in, and we quickly got into a strong rhythm. He wasn't going to let me slow down, and I was quickly sending spasms of cum up his ass. He grabbed me and kissed me, and I softened and slipped out. He rolled so that I was on my side, and he was facing me, hugging tight. Then he wiggled his hips so that his dick was aimed up, to the side of me. Franklin got the idea immediately and took Tim's dick in his hand and stroked it. He took turns with the others and soon Tim had his own climax. Neither of us knew whose hand had been responsible.
He continued to hold me tight, and the others just stood and watched. Slowly we separated. Tim whispered in my ear, "Thank you, Charlie. That meant a lot to me." Out loud he said, "I think that we just became more of a group than we have even been-if that's possible. You guys just shared our most intimate experience. It was better for your being here. Thank you."
Silence reigned. Then all of a sudden there were eight boys on the bed, peacefully hugging, sometimes kissing. Tim slipped out and showered, followed by the rest of us, one by one. The last two were Franklin and me. As we lay there, waiting for Tom to finish his shower, Franklin turned to me and said, "Charlie, this group's special. I wish that Phil could have been here. But there'll be many other moments like this over the years. I'm more determined than ever that I'm going to live near the Gang-and that means near you. It's going to be quite a life.
We kissed. But then the moment ended as it was time for him to head to the shower. "Come with me," he said. We washed each other gently, and stood, hugging, under the hot water. "I love you, Charlie."
"I love you, too, Franklin."
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