After Doug and Marc finished drying themselves, they collected Doug's things from the bedroom and left the house. Marc hung Doug's camera around Doug's own neck and told him, "If you want to take some great pictures you always have to be ready, like I wasn't when you stretched," he giggled, "but then of course, there were extenuating circumstances. Mine's in the bunkhouse and I'll be ready from now on. I've got some really fast film for tonight. I'll give you some. It works great in low light, like candles and the light from the fireplace. No one likes being blinded while they're fucking, so a flash is no good. I tried using a tripod and a timer, and even a remote to shoot Paul and I, but it's all too distracting, so I gave up. Tonight, you can shoot Paul and I, and I'll get you two. Between us, we should get some great shots."
The boys were careful not to touch each other as they walked down to the bunk house, by mutual agreement because they both knew they would no longer be content to just hold hands, or cop a casual feel. If they did, they'd have to stop and have a serious sex break in the middle of the lawn. Doug saw Paul swimming strongly to a float a hundred yards out from the front of the bunkhouse. He raised the camera and clicked a couple of frames, hopefully including a portion of the building. Doug giggled as he looked around the beautiful setting. "Paul called your lake a big pond and your home a little farm. He had me fooled until I saw his fucking truck. "Do you go to public school?" He asked.
"Are you fucking kidding. No way. Dad worked his way through college and law school, and now that he's making big bucks, nothing's too good for his sons. We go; or rather I still go to Branson Prep. We started going there because they have a great gymnastics coach; hence a top team on the private school circuit. Now that Paul graduated, I don't have any reason to continue except to get an education. Do you go to the new regional high?"
"Nope, the Oaks Academy. Our fathers should get along great. Mine worked his way through college too, and now that his company is so successful, he's got the world by the balls, just like your dad."
"What's your dad do?"
"He's a Civil Engineer. The company is Henderson Constructors. It's a design/build operation."
"Holy shit. Even I've heard of them. They just finished the new interchange on the Interstate," Marc giggled, "and I might add fucked up traffic for a year. My father started taking the train to New York just after they started that. He's called your father every name in the book, and then some whenever he had to drive to the airport to fly out to his office in L.A. every other week."
"An office in Los Angeles. Really?"
"Yup. Haven't you ever heard of John Wilcott, Attorney at Law, and defender of the rich and famous, or anyone else with a million bucks for the retainer?"
"Sure. That's your father?. Doug was impressed. "Damn, too bad he lost that case with that drug lord guy."
"He didn't. It was a plea bargain. That fucker was guilty as sin. He could have gotten life without parole. He was happy as a clam to get twenty years," Marc giggled again, "and he's already paid up front for his parole hearing.. Marc suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "Hey, do you board there?" Doug looked at him quizzically. "I mean at Oaks. Do you board at Oaks?"
Doug shook his head, "It's too close, someone drives me. Why?"
"I was just thinking, if I transferred to Oaks, and if we both boarded, it sure would be convenient if we roomed together." Marc's huge grin told the rest of the story.
Doug started to giggle, "Goddamn, that's brilliant. We could fuck each other's brains out until we graduated!" Then he looked depressed. "But I'd have to do some fancy talking to get my father to agree." He snapped his fingers, "But if our fathers got to be friends, they probably could convince themselves that boarding would be best for both of us. Would that work?"
"Shit, it's worth a preppie try at least." Marc slapped Doug on the back as they rounded the side of what the brothers insisted on calling the bunkhouse.
It resembled nothing like any bunkhouses Doug remembered seeing on old TV westerns from the side facing the lake, or the actual front of the building. He looked questioningly at Marc, just as Paul started to climb submerged steps in the lake to the terrace. He remembered his camera, raised it and started shooting each time Paul's beautiful body got one step higher and closer. Paul saw Doug, and raised his eyes heavenward and implored God to give him strength to tolerate another eager shutter bug. He decided to end the candid shoot by posing dramatically, because his brother preferred only candid photos mostly.
"Goddamn it Paul, you know Doug's just learning. All you had to do was walk your ass in and start fucking dinner, ignoring Doug by just looking the other way."
Doug didn't give a flying fuck about candid. He just wanted to get the maximum number of shots of Paul's fantastic body. When he saw that Marc's attention was diverted to shout at his brother, he turned the camera and started to photograph him, that is, until his camera started to rewind. He ended Doug's anger by looking at his camera cross-eyed. "Shit Marc, who buys twenty-four exposure film anyway? He asked with a giggle. He shrugged and looked around.
They were standing on a large flagstone terrace, which jutted out into the lake forming a half circle. A fieldstone-sitting wall at water's edge, protected users from falling in, except for an eight foot wide opening in the middle which opened on the steps into the lake. Tables, chairs and lounges mitigated the extent of the area. Marc and Paul watched him look about in puzzlement. "What is this place. It sure isn't any bunkhouse," he concluded with a frown.
Marc turned effeminate, and took Doug's arm, walking him toward the building. "This dear boy," he said, waving his arm with a limp wrist at the open French doors, "is our lakeside pavilion, which we use on occasion for large parties.. He dropped his act and put his arm around Doug's shoulders and continued in a normal voice, "At least that's what Mom calls it. They built it to have parties in to keep drunks out of the house, but after the first party, they discovered that it was too far from the house. Paul and I sort of took it over as a playhouse first, then when we started bunking out here in the summer; we started calling it the bunkhouse. Pretty neat isn't it?" He asked when they stood in the doorway.
Doug stared open mouthed, not at the contemporary décor, but at the ten-foot high windowless back wall which was built in the slope. The wall was covered with photographs in assorted sizes, but all oversized. None was less than poster size, and most of them were of Paul. Doug walked spell bound to the largest one in the center of the group. It was a black and white of Paul hanging suspended from the rings, in an iron cross. He was naked and lighted by an intense light from directly above. The background was totally black. His arms were perpendicular to his rigidly held body. His legs were perfectly straight and together, with his toes pointed down at the unseen floor. While every muscle was clearly defined, Paul didn't appear to be straining, and looked like he could hold the position for hours. This was reinforced by his facial expression, which was serene, even beatific. If his figure had wings attached, he could have been an angel descending to earth.
Marc nudged Doug to break his trance. "This one's my all time favorite. It took me hours of trying to get it. I don't always do candids, and he normally always wears at least a jock when he's in the gym. He was one big tired puppy by the time we were finished, but it was worth it. Even he likes it, but won't admit it. He wouldn't let me get near him with a camera for a week afterward."
"It's really beautiful," Doug mumbled. He started to walk the length of the wall studying each photo he really liked. "Have your parents ever seen these? He asked. The concept of going naked around his parents was beyond him, although the little speed suits he wore all the time around the pool left little to the imagination.
"Sure, they come down here a lot to look at them because I keep changing them whenever I get one I like better. I've run out of wall space as you can see. Dad wants to hang some in the field house, but Paul claims looking at himself would be distracting when he was trying to concentrate on his routines, so we haven't hung any in there, YET!"
"Never mind yet!" Paul hollered from the kitchen area. "Just don't. I don't want all Dad's friends ogling me naked when they go in there to play poker."
"Okay. I heard you. Shut up and cook, we're starving." Marc shouted back. He looked at Doug with a grin and a raised eyebrow.
"What?" He asked suspiciously.
"Oh nothing, except don't be surprised if you find a few of your own long swimmer's ass up there the next time you come visiting"
Doug laughed. "Yeah, right. I'm sure your parents would be impressed with you being able to talk a stranger into going buck naked, so you could take my fucking picture. No thanks I pass on the wall. You can take all you want, just keep them out of sight."
Marc developed a pouty look. "Okay, if you insist, I won't hang any of you on this wall."
"That's bullshit Douggie, don't trust him. You won't be through the gate before he has the negatives he likes FedEx'd to wherever he gets the big ones printed."
Marc tried to look indignant, but he couldn't quite hide his grin. "I promised I wouldn't hang them on this wall and I won't.. He burst out laughing. "But I've been thinking of the empty stone wall around the fireplace. It needs a few Marc Wilcott originals, and I don't remember promising anything about not hanging Doug there."
Doug gave up, shook his head and laughed. "Can I at least get to see them before your parents?"
Marc cheered Doug's graceful capitulation, slapped him on the butt and pushed him toward the bar, where Paul had dishes and silver waiting to set a table on the terrace. Dinner started out in silence, while the initial hunger pangs were satisfied. Then Doug looked at the brothers and grinned.
"Okay gentlemen, I think now, with both of you sitting here together, would be a good time to finish telling me how you two first got together.. Doug said just before he put a rare piece of steak in his mouth and started chewing slowly.
Marc coughed and cleared his throat. "I did sort of promise I'd tell you the rest. Where'd I stop. Oh, I remember. The first night I saw him beat off and that nasty fucking tissue. After I shot the second blank and felt strong enough to get back in bed, I thought I should be tired, but I wasn't. I just lay there thinking up ways that I could get some of his cum directly from his cock, and not have to chew on another tissue, which by the way, I still had stuffed in my cheek like a wad of chewing tobacco what was left of it anyway. I must have already eaten half of it without knowing it. It was there when I fell asleep, but in the morning, it was gone, so I guess I swallowed it."
"I decided my best course of action would be to crawl in his room from the hall since the door was open again the next night, but his door to our bathroom was closed. That's what I did. I figured that if I waited until the last second when he started to cum, I could just stand up and get my mouth on his cock before he knew what was happening, and wasn't able to do much about it anyway. It didn't exactly look like coming was something anyone could stop once it started and I was right. I sat my ass down at the foot of his bed just like a patient little Indian. I could see his feet moving while he jerked himself, shit, the whole fucking bed was moving. Gradually it started shaking faster and I could hear him puffing, breathing real hard. Then he spread his legs and his toes started pointing down at the foot of the bed. I got ready, up on my knees. I risked looking over the bed up between his legs. Man, his hand was a blur. I heard him suck in a lung full of air and his ass lifted off the bed. It was then, or never, so I kind of slithered up between his legs as fast as I could go. He was holding his cock up with his fingers right down at the root, near his balls, so the coast was clear for me to at least get my mouth on him."
Marc paused to look at his brother and grin at Paul's red faced embarrassment. "What's wrong with you big brother?"
"It's just that this is the first time anyone's heard this story. Shit, it's the first time that I've heard this first part. I remember the rest. Go ahead and finish."
"He didn't know I was there, until he felt me laying on his upper legs with my mouth locked on him. First, he tried to push my head away with his hands, but I clamped down on him with my teeth, not really hard, just enough to let him know that pushing me off was unwise. He stopped pushing, then his hands just kind of fluttered around my head, like there was an invisible barrier, and he couldn't touch me. Then he started bucking, I thought he was trying to throw me off using his body, so I wrapped one skinny arm around each thigh, right up at his crotch and just held on for dear life. He was always good at gymnastics and he was already strong, but he couldn't use too much of his power without risking getting his cock chewed off. I felt like one of those suckerfish that attach themselves to sharks. I just went along for the ride. All the time he was trying to shake me, he was pumping cum, and I didn't miss a drop."
"Then gradually, the bucking changed somehow. He stopped trying to throw me off and was just kind of thrusting his hips up to get his big old jamoke into my mouth further. Then he'd pull back by forcing his ass down into the mattress, then up again to make his cock slide in and out of my mouth. I realized he was using my mouth like a hand to jerk himself off without touching himself. I thought that was kind of a neat idea, so I started using my head to help. He put his hands on my head again, but he wasn't trying to push me off, he was steering me, up and down, up and down."
Paul interrupted with a shrug. "He knew he had me. He'd already swallowed an entire load, a whole day's worth, and I was so horny then, I didn't even think about resting or wilting. I just started over. I think part of it was the thought of having my little brother service me, want to give me head and pretty obviously enjoy the shit out of having my cock in his mouth, and swallowing my cum."
Doug nodded. He knew what it was like for both Paul and Marc, because after getting his own cock into his mouth the first time, that there was no stopping either his head, his brain, from wanting it. Or, his cock, with a mind of it's own from constantly wanting to bury itself in its owner's mouth.
"You know when you're a little kid, you keep hearing older guys talking about getting sucked off, and blow jobs?" Marc asked. Doug nodded again, he knew the question was rhetorical. "Well, right then and there, I thought about experimenting with both. I sucked for awhile, then switched and blew him until my cheeks hurt. Old Paul here started moaning, and I knew I was doing something right. I knew when he was going to come the second time, and I was ready. By then I was bending over him on my knees, kneeling between his legs. I was comfortable, and I could have stayed there all night. After he finished the second load, I tried for a third, but he pulled me off, and up his body so I was laying on top of him, with his cock between my legs. I tried to kiss him, but he wouldn't let me. His big excuse was that I had his cum in my mouth and none of it was getting into his. I didn't push him about that because the next time I tried, I'd be sure he didn't have that as an excuse."
"Of course by then, I was more than ready to pound on myself for an hour or two, so I rolled off him to my back and started jacking off. Big brother here was laying along side me, on his side, with his head propped up on his arm to watch me. Then his hand came over and started rubbing my chest at first, then just kept getting lower and lower, until I finally grabbed it and wrapped it around my cock. When I let go, he kept it there and finished me off. It was another blank, but he knew something happened. After, the prick told me to go to bed. I just told him, that I was already in bed. I was ready for a fight, but he just kind of pulled me back up against his body and wrapped his arms around me, stuck his nose in the back of my head and, that's the way we fell asleep."
"In the morning when we woke up, we were both hard of course, but we both had to piss. After, in the shower, I nailed him again, and after I finished him, he stood me up and turned me around, then hugged me up close with his cock between my legs. He reached around me and jerked me off while he humped my crotch. A couple of times he got carried away and his cock popped out, and up between us. It seemed logical that since feeling it sliding along my crack was so great, I thought getting it into my ass would be fantastic, but that took another week before I could convince Mr. Bashful to try it" Marc grinned and yawned dramatically, looking first at Doug, then his brother.
"All this bullshit has made me kind of sleepy, or at least ready for bed. Is anyone else ready?"