Catalina Cherries
by Joe Butterman


Chapter 7: The Unkempt Yard

Do you remember that unkempt yard I told you about?  The one where I picked the poppies to put behind Gary’s ears so that he could be a proper king?  Well, about two weeks after Gary’s coronation, I was walking down to Johnny’s, I thought we should go over to Gary’s and go swimming.  I immediately saw Johnny standing in front of the unkempt house; he was on the sidewalk, facing the house, and something about it had his attention.

“Johnny,” I yelled with a wave.  He waved back but stayed right there.  As I approached I saw that he was talking to a boy who was in the middle of the yard; I came up next to Johnny, considered the company, and didn’t touch him.  Sometimes, when we met, we might pat each other affectionately, or even kiss, but we’d never kiss in public or in front of anyone but Gary.

“Charlie meet Roberto, Roberto – Charlie,” Johnny introduced as I went up to the rather dilapidated picket fence that ran along the sidewalk, and stuck my hand over it.  Roberto shifted the rake that he’d been holding, came forward and we shook hands; he had a pleasant grip.  We exchanged “hi’s” and then Johnny shook his hand saying, “I guess we should shake too.  Roberto works here sometimes,” Johnny expanded.  I looked around and noted that the rake had created two piles of trash, one on each side of the walkway and that the flowerbeds were now free of leaves, twigs, scraps of paper, and other oddments.  Roberto was explaining the circumstances in the house: apparently the owner (whom I’d never even seen) was ill and his daughter was moving into the house to help take care of him, and she had hired Roberto’s older sister to help her out, and he was going to get some odd jobs, and so forth.  I wasn’t really paying all that much attention because I was looking at Roberto, a very attractive boy.  He had beautiful coal black hair that fell in wide curls, it was longer than any of ours; he had dark brown eyes, flashing white teeth that smiled through these wonderful, almost heart-shaped lips; he had a glorious light brown color to him and was wearing a silver chain with some kind of medallion around his neck; his neck had a really elegant line to it that made it seem to sweep, like he could fly if he really wanted to; he was also wearing one of those sleeveless t-shirts that was way too big for him, and a pair of cut offs that were likewise way too large.  He had to wear a belt to keep them up and his waistband was bunched in several places where he had tightened the belt; they were way too long also, the frayed hem came down to his knees and his legs were beautiful and were meant to be seen.  As it was, there would have been little point in climbing a tree with him because you wouldn’t have been able to see anything at all sexy.  This outfit, however, accented his slender physique, and the fine lines of his long and graceful limbs.  He was also wearing sandals, an article of apparel that was yet to appear in the stores where we shopped.

I forgave Roberto all of these infractions.  He was obviously not in control of his wardrobe.  Neither, for that matter, was I.  I still went barefoot or in sneakers, t-shirts could come off or on at whim; but I was now wearing khaki shorts with razor sharp creases.  My Grand Belle had observed this style on Gary and approved the look.  So that was pretty much that for cut offs.  On the day that I was preoccupied with bringing Gary and Johnny together, she had gone shopping for shorts for me, had of course, succeeded in her quest, and now I had several pair in muted colors and that is what I wore.  Actually I liked them.  I never wear underwear when I wear short pants, and there was a lot more room for me in these shorts than in cut offs.  There was a feeling of freedom around my cock and balls that I liked a lot.  I looked at Roberto’s waist wondering if he was wearing underwear but could see no sign of them.  I knew that Johnny was not.  I noted that Roberto had a tiny tuft of hair under his arms, but none was visible on his chest, the most of which was visible because of his saggy undershirt.  I liked Roberto’s long graceful hands and the way his ears were neatly tucked against his head and his hair sometimes fell over the tops of his ears.

“We’re sposed to go to Gary’s,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I know…well…see ya,” Johnny sounded reluctant, smiling at Roberto.

“By Roberto, see ya soon,” from me.

“See you guys,” from Roberto, also smiling, a little wistfully, I thought.

When we got to Gary’s, we went in the backyard gate as we usually did.  Gary was naked by the pool; fishing leaves out with that long aluminum pole with the scoop screen thing on one end.  He grinned, we waved, and as the door to the house was standing open, went into the room that I had decided to call a den, thought I sometimes thought it should be a veranda.  We were going to pay our respects to Commander van der Leyden, Nurse Corps, United States Navy.  We stood in the doorway and chorused, “Good morning, ma’am.”  (Gary had taught us a lot more about the Navy than just how to tell time “properly.”)

“And a fine good morning to the two of you,” she replied.  Unlike most of the ladies in our world, she did not immediately attempt to feed us.

“I’ll be at the pool,” said Johnny and disappeared in a twinkling.  I remained for a few moments and discussed the possibility of a trip to the beach for the three of us.  Transportation was something of a problem; none of us were old enough to drive (though I knew how because I lived on a ranch and there was a pick-up truck that was, for all intents and purposes, mine; I let everyone know that I possessed this important skill too).  Of the three adults available for transport, the Commander seemed the most likely prospect: simply put, I wanted the adult member of the party to drive us to the beach and drop us off, like about nine or ten in the morning; then they were to disappear until about five or six in the afternoon, when they would return to pick us up.  Johnny’s Mother was clearly out: she was always gone almost all day, and sometimes late into the evening, what with office work and showing real estate and all that stuff.  My Grandfather, equally, was absolutely out of the question, it would have become an expedition: there would have to be an umbrella, a pick-nick basket (“an hamper”), beach blankets, assorted lotions, and worry.  We would be under close observation whenever we got within ten yards of the water; if we got into the water: he would be at the surf line, ever alert for cramps, rip-tides, killer whales, and every other peril of the sea.  Certainly, we would not be on the beach naked.  Then: it would get too hot, too quick, (“you’ll catch polio in this heat”) and we would have to reload our expeditionary force, and there we’d be, motoring home by two o’clock in the afternoon at the very latest.

There was some loud whooping from the pool followed by two serious sounding splashes.

I think the Commander liked us, she looked smilingly thoughtful, and thought that she might be able to arrange this, but coupled this with the usual dire warning about what would happen if we behaved irresponsibly, in any of several ways, or failed to be at the appointed place at the appointed time, to be picked-up.  This might happen, possibly as soon as next Thursday, but she’d have to check at the hospital first.  I thanked her sincerely.  None of the infractions she had listed were among the ones we were planning.

I went out to the pool, shucked my shorts, and dove in with Gary and Johnny; I swam to the deep end and got out by the ladder on the side; I went to the closet in the dressing room where the masks, snorkels and fins were kept.  Gary had shown them to me when I had explained that I would really like to see his naked body under the water.  I selected the mask that had the snorkel attached, ran back to the diving board and caromed into the water.  I had, at first, been reluctant to go skinny dipping in the pool when the Commander was present, given all of the authority that she represented in addition to that of ‘Mother’; but Gary had pointed out that she expected it, and that she was a nurse and dealt with naked people all the time.  This made sense, and I do like to swim naked.  I went to the medium shallow part of the pool where I adjusted the mask and snorkel.  I practiced being a “submersible,” (Bobbin’s word) for a few minutes; I regretted that I’d not brought a pair of fins too, an underwater attack on Gary, Johnny, or both, had vast potential for sexy contact, but without fins, my speed would be severely limited.  Instead, I feasted on the visual spectacle of Johnny and Gary diving in, swimming to the ladder, clambering up and out, and repeating the process.  Arms, legs, wieners, and balls were in constant motion and the underwater view was somehow slowed and really sexy.  Since we’d met Gary, and started coming regularly to the pool, our tan lines had all but disappeared and I considered this with misgiving.  An even tan was sexy; but then, so were tan lines.  I fussed about this for a minute but then decided it was no big deal.  If we’d been in Siberia we probably wouldn’t have tan lines, or even tans.  We would probably be cold, but that would be okay; we’d have lots of sex to keep warm and that, really, was the important thing.  Here I am in the cool water, under the warm sun, conjuring images of fucking and sucking on a rug in front of a fireplace in Siberia of all places.

I’d noted idly, a few minutes before I’d been distracted by the tan line dilemma, that there was no more diving taking place, but had continued to carefully explore the bottom of the pool while I practiced breathing through the snorkel.  It dawned on me that I was alone in the pool.  I kicked over to the ladder and stood up on the bottom rung looking around.  Nobody was there.  The pool chairs were all empty too.  Faintly miffed, I went to the dressing room where miffed turned quickly to aroused.  Johnny was down on Gary.  What a great sight.  Gary opened his eyes and, seeing me, smiled his beautiful smile.  Johnny had him in a kinda new position: Gary’s legs were up and over his shoulders, his butt was right on the edge of the bench and Johnny was going up and down on Gary’s boner while Gary’s thighs sorta trapped his head between them.  This looked incredibly sexy.  Gary didn’t have either hand on Johnny’s head, and usually we were big about rubbing and feeling whoever’s head was on our dick.  Gary waved me over and grabbed my boner and pulled me toward him.  He didn’t have much freedom of movement, so I put one knee and one foot on the bench, straddled the slurping Johnny, and stuck my cock in Gary’s mouth.

This position, pleasant as it was, was kinda awkward for me.  Plus, Gary couldn’t move his head much because of the way he was curved against the bench and wall.  Sex is always great, but there were other positions that we had tried that were lots better: it didn’t really matter though, because it was important to get Gary off, as he had to go to the base with the Commander to take care of some Navy stuff; he’d be gone all afternoon so he didn’t have a lot of time for sex, but Johnny and I had all the rest of the day.  I thought that Gary must be close to coming, so I slid out of his mouth and got out of that crab-like position I was in.  Gary’s eyes were closed and he had a really sweet smile, open mouth, tongue in the corner, head as far back as it would go.  I stood to the side and stroked myself, really loving the view.  When Gary came, he really clenched Johnny’s head between his thighs, holding him down on his dick, and moaned blissfully shuddering and wiggling with joy.  It was really neat.  You couldn’t see much of Johnny except that he was keeping Gary in his mouth so that he could get every drop, like we always do to each other, and that his nose was right at Gary’s stomach, just above Gary’s hidden sex.

Gary started to break out of the position he was in, “Great, Johnny, great,” he whispered as he spread his legs off of Johnny’s shoulders and put his feet on the floor, scooting his butt back a little on the bench.  Now he used his hands to keep Johnny’s head on his dick as he sat up straighter.  His blue eyes gleamed as he smiled at me, watching me stroke my boner.  I shifted my legs, swaggered my hips, and put on a little jacking-off show for him.  I grabbed the nearest bottle of sun tan lotion and looked a question at him; he nodded and widened his smile, he pulled out of Johnny’s mouth, swung off the bench, shifted Johnny a little, and kneeled face to face with Johnny. Johnny’s cock was standing tall and the tip was drooling.  Gary Frenched Johnny for a few seconds, then slid back, stuck his ass in the air, and went down into Johnny’s lap, licking, and then engulfing his boner.  That was all the additional invitation I needed, I applied a lot of lotion to my boner, and put a generous glob in my palm, kneeling down behind Gary, I rubbed the lotion all over his crack and hole and put one of my belotioned fingers into his hole, moving it gently around.  I moved up, put tip to hole, and slowly and gently moved into his butt.  He made a sort of growling purr as I entered, which I knew to be a sound of enjoyment.  It took a few seconds to get synchronized.  Johnny was pretty much stationary, butt on heels, hands on floor, head back with mouth open and tongue out, eyes closed.  Gary would rock a little forward and down on Johnny’s dick, then a little back and up; when he went forward, I went back a little, when he came back, I went forward.  Once we had the rhythm, we picked up the pace a little and really got with it.  I had my eyes closed, awash with the sensations from my dick, when I felt a tongue and lips on mine.  I opened at once and sucked on Johnny’s tongue.  I looked at him, but his eyes were closed.  And there we were: all together – all in each other.

I sucked harder on Johnny’s tongue.  Watching the guys you love doing it, while you’re doing it with them, is just about the hottest thing there is. I knew that this heaven couldn’t last long because I was almost ready to cum before I entered Gary.  It seemed like I’d only just started pumping, and here I was, cuming already.  I leaned down over Gary’s back and hugged him around the chest licking at his neck as I spurted to completion.  Johnny leaned over me and grabbed us around Gary’s stomach, sandwiching me wonderfully.  His tongue was out and he was licking my back.  He started clutching us really tightly and making that “umph, umph, umph,” sound and I figured that he was cuming.  Actually, I knew that he was cuming.  It wasn’t like it was the first time or anything.  After he finished and we were all in that quiet laze that happens after you cum, through some kind of mutual accord, we rocked over and lay on our sides, so that knees and ankles could relax along with all the rest of us.  We slowly stretched and relaxed and slipped out of each other and lay there in deep comfort on the floor.  After a few moments we got up and took a shower.  We lay on lounge chairs in the sunshine until the Commander told Gary to get dressed, that it was time to go.  Johnny and I got dressed and bid them goodbye.  The Commander startled me somewhat, by giving us both a parting hug.

When we got to my house, in response to my Grandmother’s first question, we said we were ready for lunch.  I really was hungry.  I’d worked hard all day.  I mean, think about it.  I’d been scheming and planning, sucking and fucking, swimming and sunning – all of it just since breakfast.  Makes me tired and hungry just thinking about it.  Soon we were tucked into grilled worst sandwiches with onions and melted cheese on rolls, Fritos (what else where my opinion was all but paramount?), and those really crisp Polish pickles that I called, “smack Zee Y-robs”.  Grand Belle joined us at the table and said, “I hear that Master Gary has a colored girl working at his house.  Is that true?”  Clearly, she already knew the answer, but I would have to proceed with extreme caution.  You see, “Master” is one of those double-edged words, it would have been a meaningless formality were Gary being introduced to another adult, but neither Gary nor another adult were present.  Had Grand Belle said: “Master MacCrimmon” or “Master Scott” or “Master van der Leyden” just to one or all of us, it would have meant big trouble.  Trouble, like they say, with a capital “T”.

“Yes, Grand Belle, they do.  Gary’s Mom is a really important Nurse and needs the help, and she needs the help because she’s at the hospital a lot and Gary’s Dad’s the Captain of a ship and isn’t there a lot.  She’s a really neat lady and fixes us lunch a lot.”  This last bit established a commonality between Miss Jean and my Grand Belle, both of whom held it as an article of faith that boys were to be fed.  It was a good touch and I wish it had been intentional, but it was just part of the truth.

Grand Belle held to a notion of something called “Good Christian Work.”  This notion was never specifically detailed or defined in any way, but she would pluck it out of the air, just like Johnny coming-up with a new rule for a game that we’d played many times before; she’d bestow it with approbation upon one endeavor, while viewing another effort, devoid of this blessing, with something between distant disinterest and withering contempt.  As best as I could figure, if you were never finished with something, it was almost be definition – Godly: if the projects were merely utilitarian, or dubious for any of a host of other reasons, they were not.  Thus cleaning the kitchen, or a horse stall, was “Good Christian Work,” while building the Golden Gate Bridge was not.  Painting the Golden Gate Bridge, on the other hand, was “Good Christian Work.” But pouring a concrete sidewalk was not.  And so stretched this concept, mysteriously on.

“What do you call her?”  She continued, I breathed easier.  This was going to be about deportment, not sin.

“Miss Jean,” with the guilelessness of absolute truth.

“Good,” relieved, she bestowed her blindingly beautiful smile, but she had a point to make, “Always speak to her politely.  Keeping house is Good Christian Work.  And under no circumstances are you ever to refer to her color in any way.  And that goes for you too Master Jonathan.  Is that clear?”

“Yes’um,” we replied.  It wasn’t a chorus because one of us had to finish chewing and swallow before responding.  Failure to do so would, of course, have been trouble with a small “t”.  Summer pleasantries occupied us for the rest of lunch.  We asked to be excused to go outside, rinsed and stacked the dishes, and burst out to the glory of the day.

I took Johnny to the Walnut tree and expounded on the problem of the tree house.  If this were to become reality, it would be up to us, the spectacle of my Grandfather in necktie and shirtsleeves building a tree house, had it even occurred to me, would have been too funny for words.  We selected a couple of ripe apricots from the Apricot tree and then saw Roberto trundling down the sidewalk with a wheelbarrow.  So naturally, we had to hail him and dash to the sidewalk, offer an apricot, and find out what was going on.  Nothing was going on, of course, but it took a few minutes of discussion to determine this.  Then too, we were eating apricots.  They were juicy and delicious.  Grand Belle appeared on the front porch, so we introduced Roberto.  Roberto “Ma’am’ed” her with complete propriety, and while being named to my Grand Belle, he gave a little bow with a half wave of his hand, which was one of the most genuinely courtly moves that I’ve ever seen.  Grand Belle and I beamed approval.  Grand Belle had neighborhood concerns, however, and skillfully elicited all the latest from the house with the unkempt yard.  During this we learned that Roberto’s sister was not really a maid, as Johnny and I had at first assumed, but was more like a nurse who cooked.  I listened to Grand Belle as she visited and I learned that the owner’s name was Astimendi; Grand Belle also knew that he, “poor dear,” had been gassed in the Big War (the ‘Big War,’ of course, was World War I; World War II was merely ‘The War,’ due, I suppose, to a lack of seniority or something) and he had suffered ever since: she learned, though, that it was his eldest daughter who would be moving in, but she also worked so couldn’t be there all the time; she learned that his son was still out amongst the hang jongeren and so was of neither assistance nor account; Roberto only worked there every once in awhile for specific tasks.  Roberto bore up beautifully under all of this and I’m sure that he had given Grand Belle a great deal more information that I had missed.  She beamed on him approvingly, told him that he must not let Johnny and I lead him astray, and swept back into the house.  Roberto said he had to go, we watched him wheel off down the sidewalk with approval.  Johnny said, “let’s get naked in the jungle.”  I thought this was a grand idea, so off we went and did.

We were sitting in the usual corner and we had the book that Johnny’s Father had bought him out and were discussing it.  This was a sort of Young-Persons-Guide-to-All-About-Sex; part of it was about girls and we skipped those parts.  We concentrated on the parts about boys and learned any number of new words and a considerable amount of real information as to how everything worked.  We had been very concerned about something called a “foreskin” which had been illustrated in the book with a drawing.  We looked at each other closely and carefully, compared ourselves to the drawing, and came to the conclusion that the listed bit was missing.  In a later chapter, we discovered that formidable word “circumcision” and discovered what had been done to us.  We didn’t know quite how to assess this, we had no basis for comparison, and could not think of a single boy that we’d seen naked that didn’t look just like us.

We had been sitting side-by-side, on towels, Indian fashion, while we considered the book.  I stretched out my legs in front and leaned back on my hands, enjoying the warmth, the nudity, and the companionship.  I made a little rustling in the leaves as I did this, and it seemed that the rustling continued after I had stopped moving.  I thought little of this, as leaves do rustle.  Seconds later, Johnny also stretched out on his side, propping his head on his elbow and bringing his foot up onto his leg, almost to his balls, while he continued to explore the book.  This is just the sexiest pose, and I think that he did it for me because I’ve told him about how good he looks like this; but he caused some more rustling in the leaves when he did this, and again, the rustling seemed to last longer than his motion.  I rustled the leaves with one foot, and the rustling stopped when I stopped.  I wasn’t worried.  Grand Belle would never come out here, she would call us in, or clatter out the screen door to attend to any chore she might be involved in. The Packard and Bobbin were both absent.  In any event, Bobbin would usually leave the Packard running in the driveway and call for me to put it away.  So there’d be plenty of time to get decent if it were Bobbin.  I thought perhaps Gary was planning a sneak attack; that seemed highly unlikely, it was only just past lunch, hardly time for them to get to the base and back assuming they did nothing at the base.  I decided, though, that I should prepare for that possibility.  Johnny was expounding about how the flow of blood to the “penis” (what a dull word for such an important part) causing an “erection” (sounds like something to do with an Erector Set) as a result of “sexual stimulation” (I’ll probably just stick with “hot” or “sexy”); I rustled the leaves gently, but the noise stopped when I stopped.  I started a surreptitious scan of the jungle; I made no sudden movements, languidly stretching and relaxing as though I had not a care in the world, as in fact, I did not.  My attention became riveted on a slender brown foot, in a tatterdemalion sandal, that was beneath one of the branches that partially covered our path to this nook.  This is interesting.  How did Roberto find us?  Why did he come looking for us so quietly?  What did he think about us being naked?  I did not look-up, not wanting to risk eye contact yet.  I thought about saying something like: come here Roberto; or, we know you’re there Roberto, something like that; but instead I whispered to Johnny, “Roberto’s watching us.”

You’ve got to give it to Johnny, he was completely unfazed, and after a short pause, he continued his discourse about “cum” containing “sperm” and really being called “semen” in the same tone of voice that he’d been using.  He paused and whispered, “tell him to come here.”

A short pause, “Roberto.  We know you’re there.  Come ‘ere!”  There was a short pause, then with a gentle rustling, Roberto stepped onto the path and into our nook.  He’d taken his shirt off and one end of it was tucked into a back pocket.  I thought that his cut offs were riding a little lower and thought that they looked kinda tented over his crotch, but couldn’t be sure because they were so baggy.  Johnny and I, of course, were completely naked.  Somehow, though, I felt we were completely in control.  Neither of us had an “erection;” we’d done nothing in the nook this afternoon.  I was already considering explanations involving Johnny’s Fathers book, in case Roberto took it into his head to tell someone we were naked in the bushes.  The “circumcision” thing, would, I thought, be just perfect as a distraction.  Roberto didn’t seem threatening or anything.  In fact he had a kinda wistful half smile that showed a little sparkle from his teeth; I again noted how beautiful his eyes were, and I noted that his eye brows started well back from the bridge of his nose, almost on a line with his eyes and arched gracefully for almost the exact length of his eyes.  He had no hair on his chest, but there were a few on each shin. His toes, like his fingers, were long and elegant.

“Hi,” from Johnny, “what’cha doin’?”

“Well,” long pause, during which I noted that his eyes were roving all over us as if drinking of our nudity, “I, uh.”

“We can be friends, ya know,” I offered, “here sit down,” and I resumed an Indian style seat, patting the leaves while Johnny remained spread out as before.

Another pause, still with the wistful smile, “I.  Uh.  Kinda.”

I reached over and pulled gently on his big toe, “take your sandals off, it’s way more comfortable barefoot.”  He slipped them off and pushed them away as if he meant to stay awhile as we resumed our awkward silence.  So there we were, Roberto and I sitting cross-legged, Johnny spread out in a way that really emphasized his beauty.

“Well?” Johnny asked.

“He means, ‘do ya wanna be friends’, or what?”  I amplified, “Cuz it ain’t real nice to sneak around in the bushes.  Ya coulda just said: ‘Hey,’ ya know?”

“Yeah.  I wanna be friends and all.  But.  You know.”  And of course we knew very well what he was trying to say.  You can’t just go up to a guy and say let’s be pals and get naked; you needed to be a little surer of things.  Then too, we were naked gringos and he was Mexican and that doesn’t always work too good.  You had to kind of admire him.

“We like to be naked,” Johnny observed.  You could see Roberto blush, he didn’t get red, but he darkened a little and he looked down at his lap.

“Sometimes we go to Gary’s and go skinny dipping.  You ever go skinny dipping?”  This would be me broaching one of my favorite topics.  “Have ya met Gary?”  I continued as it had dawned on me that if he had, it hadn’t been while I was there.

“Not yet,” he replied – it was getting easier for him to talk.  “No, is he the dark haired guy?  I seen ya talkin’ to him once.”  I smiled at him encouragingly.  He hadn’t been skinny dipping, but he hadn’t ruled it out as a future possibility either.

“Yeah, that’s him.  We’re kinda like The Three Musketeers.”  He looked blank.  “It’s a book where these four guys are best friends and do everything together,” I explained.

“Four guys?”  He wondered not unreasonably.

“Yeah.  First there were three, and then they met another guy, so there were four, but they already had the nick name so they were stuck with ‘Three’.”

“Oh.  I’ve never been naked with guys before.  Except at school, ya know, after gym, and ya know what that’s like,” he’d returned to Johnny’s question.  He had a real interesting look on his face, it seemed like he was scared and hoping all at the same time.  I decided that it was time to be a little more direct.  He wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t have answered the way he did, if he weren’t interested.

“Let’s try it and see what’cha think,” I said and reached over and started to unbuckle his belt.

“This has gotta be awful tight.”  He flinched just the tiniest bit as I began to undo the buckle.  I discovered that he had a boner too, because I had arranged for the edge of my hand to rub his front as I reached for the buckle.  I’d say it was “on accident,” if he objected but it wasn’t and he didn’t.  I gave Johnny a little smile and look as I worked the buckle.

He smiled at Roberto saying, “Guys do lotsa stuff together” and he ran his hand from Roberto’s upper thigh, where his shorts covered him, down onto his bare shin, and back again, letting his hand linger on the thigh.  Releasing the buckle, I ran my fingers around the inside of his waistband, I pretended I was loosening the belt, but I was actually checking for underwear.  I found none, but I let my fingers slide slowly across Roberto as if it were the most normal thing in the world.  I sat up on my knees beside him and unsnapped his fly.  Johnny was gently straightening his legs.  I looked at him.  He was sitting back with his hands on the ground beside him, his eyes closed, breathing quickly through his slightly open mouth.  He wanted this to happen as much as we did. It took me both hands to get his zipper down because the cut offs were so big on him; we pulled his cut offs down and off.

“It’s nice being naked,” I remarked.

Roberto was lying on his back; Johnny was to one side, down by his legs, I on the other, closer to his chest.  He was a beautiful picture.  Eyes still closed, a small barely open-mouthed smile, his silver medal lying right at his throat between those two little bones, with the chain going every which way – a sparkling contrast with his light brown flesh.  He was a little lighter where his cut offs had been, just like Johnny and I.  But the glory was his boner; long and slender like his fingers, stretching toward his belly button, with two lovely balls hanging really loose in his sac (“scrotum” is what the book calls it, but come on, what an ugly word that is for something so truly beautiful).  Roberto had more pubic hair than any of the rest of us; it formed a lovely black bush in a perfect triangle above his triumphant boner.

“We do this a lot,” I lied: it was only a lie because the idea had just popped into my head.  I’d have done it a lot if I’d a thought of it earlier.  I spread my fingertips on his upper chest, and slowly pulled them, gently tickling, together.  I repeated the process several times before using first one nipple, and then the other, as a point where the fingers came together.  I got to see his nipples rise to a point; they seemed to try to follow my fingertips into the air.  I did it again with more touching of nipples.  Johnny had been gently massaging one leg, and then the other; now he was drawing his fingers up and down Roberto’s legs, from ankle to hip and flank.  First he would use his fingertips, and then he would drag his nails.  He came closer and closer to Roberto’s balls.  Roberto’s eyes were still closed so he didn’t see Johnny and I smiling at each other.

“You have nice hair,” I commented as my fingers marched into his bush, scratching gently at the roots and then kinda fluffing-up the hair.  My fingers touched his woodie several times as they wandered in the bush and Roberto just sighed contentedly.  At the tip of his boner, was a drop that gleamed silver in the sunshine like the medal around his neck.  I nodded this to Johnny’s attention and joining the tip of my finger with the tip of my thumb.  I drew the ‘v’ that this made, slowly up the length of his dick; he shuddered deliciously.  I leaned over him and flicked the tip of his tongue, still just peeking between his lips, with my tongue. His tongue did not retreat; we kissed, tongues lashing each other.  I felt a hand on my boner and assumed it must be his; another arm embraced me and held me in the kiss.  Roberto was sighing around the kiss.  With my free hand, I reached down for his dick, but I encountered Johnny’s head.  It wasn’t just the kiss that was causing all the sighs.  We continued like this for just a few moments before Roberto broke the kiss, panting, his eyes staring into a distant place; he hugged me tightly around the shoulder and really grasped my dick.  He was cuming into Johnny’s mouth and he softly moaned, “Dios.  Dios.  Dios.”  As he relaxed, I kissed him again, real tender.  He was still holding onto my dick, gripping and relaxing, then he’d stroke it a little, play with it, gripping and relaxing while he kissed me.

“See,” I commented, “guys can do lotsa neat stuff together.”

“Si.  Yeah.  Wow.”  Roberto was softening and his dick was relaxing across his leg.  Johnny and I were hard as rocks.

I kept Roberto’s hand on me as I sat back.  Johnny sat back, spreading his legs and stroking his dick, and I sorta guided Roberto into position between Johnny’s legs.  He grabbed Johnny and started stroking him while holding onto me with the other hand.  Slowly he moved down and started nibbling on Johnny; he released my cock and began licking Johnny while feeling his balls and stroking his legs.  I think that he had wanted this for a long time.  I got up and stood over them and fed my cock to Johnny.  He took it and slurped happily away.  I held his head with my hands and we moved together.  There was all this wonderful slurping going on what with two dicks being sucked at the same time.  I don’t know which of us came first, but we were pretty close.  I couldn’t tell if Roberto had swallowed or not, but Johnny certainly seemed as happy as could be.

Afterward, we sat around together, like three Indians in the warm rain forest.  Roberto said that he didn’t have to work at the Astimendi’s tomorrow, so we planned to introduce Roberto to Gary.  Unlike previous introductions, this did not seem like a big deal.  We decided that Johnny would go over to Gary’s in the morning and that Roberto would come to my house for lunch, and then I would bring him over to meet the Commander.  We thought it fortunate that he would meet the Commander before Miss Jean.  That way there would be no question of his being accepted by Miss Jean, who might otherwise have been concerned about Roberto being Mexican.  We knew, somehow, that this would not be of any importance to the Commander.  That way Roberto would be able to go skinny-dipping and stuff.

The plan worked flawlessly.  It was a simple plan and they’re the best.  Roberto had already charmed my Grand Belle and she enjoyed feeding him.  The Commander was also pleased to meet him and his natural courtesy worked well on her.  I think she was pleased to see how many friends Gary was making.  We swam, sunned, and showered.  In the dressing room, we went to work on each other at the same time; basically, Roberto gave me a blowjob, while Johnny did Gary, then I did Johnny while Gary did Roberto.  We all swallowed. It was a great day.

I was already thinking of him as “Berto.”


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