I had been a cop for a lot of years...a lot of good years. I was proud of who I was and what I had done, and then the one lousy little mistake... just one. It was Jake's last night on the force. We had been together for a lot of years, me and Jake. Hell, he broke me in...trained me, and then the idiot even took me on as a partner. I was the cop I was because of Jake. Jake had taken us all...me, Hank and Charlie...under his wing when we joined the force. He was about ten years older than we were and took a liking to us right off. He called us Huey, Dewey and Louie, so we called him Sergeant Donald. Everyone got a big kick out of it until the Captain got wind of it. "If we don't have respect for ourselves, who's gonna have respect for us?" he had said. Asshole. Well, I suppose he was right. Anyway, we stopped doing it. From that time on, Jake was just Sergeant D to us, and he called us One, Two and Three. I was always Two. I know it sounds silly, and it was, but it just sort of happened and we liked it and had a good time with it. It stuck...what can I say?

Anyway, the three of us wanted to throw a surprise party for D on his last night on the force. We were all older by that time...old, and weather beaten. We hadn't done anything real crazy for about 100 years, so we decided to have a surprise retirement party under the South Street Bridge after D's shift. We'd tell him to meet us there and then spring it on him...big mistake. We built a little fire, and when D got there we all sat around the fire and got shit faced. We had such a blast remembering old times, and made so much noise laughing and clowning around that someone reported a bunch of drunks under the bridge...only we weren't just a bunch of drunks. We were a bunch of drunk cops.

They didn't do anything to Jake at all. Hell, he was retiring anyway. But they threw the book at the rest of us...hit us with it too. Hank and Charlie had had enough by that time anyway. They cut their losses and left the force. I was the guy who loved my job. I wasn't in it for the money. Besides, both of them had families...I had no one. What would I do with my time anyway? Where would I work...McDonalds'? So I stayed and took my punishment like a man. I was completely busted. For awhile they even made me work a desk job...the policeman's hell...but finally they let me out of there. I think it was my whining that did it. I hated that place, and never shut up about how bad it was. Since then, they had given me nothing but shit jobs. How long was I going to have to pay for that one little mistake? Shit.

That's why I was all alone in this beaten up old squad car on this dumb little house check. It was an old deserted place on Meyers Avenue...the Carter House. It was in a real old and pretty classy part of town. All the other houses around it had been restored beautifully to their glorious Victorian splendor. This one, however, was still bogged down in its old Victorian squalor. It was owned by some guy in Tennessee who had no intention of restoring anything about it. He had inherited it from a grandmother he couldn't stand, and he was going to let it rot in tribute to what he thought of the old lady's personality. The guy had the grass cut on a regular basis to keep the authorities off his back, and that was it. It was an eyesore, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. He had a right to his eyesore, I guess. If only Granny had been just a little nicer. We were all waiting for someone to burn it down. It was only a matter of time before one of those pissed off home owners got so tired of looking at the place that he just torched it. We had talked to all the home owners on the street, telling them that we understood how they must feel, but that, if anyone took it upon himself to rid the street of that house, he would certainly be prosecuted and probably spend some time in jail. So far that had worked, but....

So now here I was driving out Meyers Avenue to check on a call about something strange going on at the Carter House. Anything going on at the Carter House would have to be classified as strange. I was being wasted on this job and I resented it. The Allison kid was still missing. He had been missing for three days now. Time was running out. I figured he had one more day at the outside. Shit, he might already be dead. But, I could find him...I knew it. Why wouldn't they let me help? So I got drunk under a bridge once. I paid the price. Now that kid was going to pay a heavier one because no one would let me find him. Instead I was tooling out to the Carter House to investigate "something strange". They really were assholes down there...goddamn, dumass, fucking assholes. I would be retiring soon, and that check coming in every month would be my final victory. I had hung on and I would hang on just a little while longer, and then I would leave with a sigh of relief that could be heard all over Missouri. But, if that kid died just because some son-of-a-bitch was still pissed and had his head too far up his ass to put me on the case....

I got to the Carter House and pulled up into the long driveway. I wasn't afraid exactly, but I have this thing about spooky, and this was spooky. It makes me nervous. This whole thing was like being in one of those old haunted house movies you saw when you were a kid. I think everyone's kind of like that about those old movies...they just won't admit it. Yeah, cops are tough, but we're human too, and I don't care how old you get or how tough you are, those weird feelings you picked up from Dracula and the gang hang on to you all of your life. And, boy, was this the perfect haunted house. I could almost hear organ music in the background. Even though I knew there was absolutely nothing other-worldly cruising around there, I would be waiting for something to pop out at me around every turn until I was back in my car and driving the other way on Meyers Avenue. I had to be very careful of those feelings. That's how innocent people got hurt...someone at the wrong place at the wrong time being mistaken for a thing that goes bump in the night.

I got out of my car and walked slowly up to the side of the house. There were narrow steps there leading up to a small stoop by a side entrance...probably for deliveries or servants. It was as good a place to start as any, so I climbed up there to check it out...locked tighter than a drum. I was sure that's the way I would find all of them. What a waste of time! Someone was going to hear about this when I got back to the station. Hell, if I bitched hard enough, maybe they'd give me early retirement. It was a sure thing that they weren't going to demote me.

It was about ten o'clock and should have been dark, but there was a big full moon, so everything was kind of nestled in an eerie shadow. Let's see now: a full moon, a haunted old mansion, a call about strange happenings in the middle of the night, a lone cop on patrol...perfect. I could have saved myself a little time by just going down into the basement where the man with the ax was waiting, but what would be the fun in that? Nope, I would save the basement for last. The ax man would just have to wait until I found the society lady covered with blood on the stairs and the gross old man hanging in the closet.

I walked around the house slowly, checking each door and window as I went. There must have been fifty entrances to the place. I had my flashlight with me, but didn't have to use it because of the bright moonlight. I had worked my way around to the back of the house, and was just about to chalk this one up to another case of over-active imagination, when I noticed a slight opening in a set of French doors near the far corner of the house. On any other night I might not have noticed, but the panes of glass had caught the moon at just the right angle. It was probably nothing, but I was the police, and we always got our man or woman or ghost or goblin or whatever was in there. Tonight, if anything, I would probably get, at the most, a feral cat. I didn't really want to go inside (I was afraid a floor board would give way or something.), but I must confess that I had always been curious about the inside of the old place.

I slowly pushed the door open. Drats...I wanted it to have that low creak...you know the one that all the doors have in the haunted house movies? It just silently pushed open. The place smelled real musty. It brought back memories of my own grandmother's house just before she died. I always associated that musty smell with death after that. I had that same feeling here, and I didn't like it. I had stirred up some dust and it was playing in the moonbeams coming through the window. I got all wrapped up in the dust in the moonbeams for a second and almost forgot what I was supposed to be doing. That always fascinated me. That same soft moonlight was filtering through all of the windows, and my eyes adjusted fairly quickly to the amount of light in the room. I was in the main dining room...at least that's what it looked like. There was a large table in the middle of the room, chairs, a buffet, even a large old candelabra in the middle of the table The door to my left must have been to the kitchen and the far door, way down at the end of the room, the door to the rest of the house. Nothing bumping in the night in here except me and the dust, so I would venture on inside. I took a moment to check out what must have been the ugliest wallpaper ever created. Even in the subdued moonlight, I could tell Grandma had awful taste...great big giant gardenias surrounded by even bigger giant gardenia leaves. Grandma, grandma, what were you thinking?

The door opened out into a large, high hall that ran the full length of the house, from the front to the back. A grand, beautiful double staircase stood in the middle of the hall about half way back, and there was a very large window cut just above the landing where the staircase split in two to wind around opposite walls. A shaft of moonlight shone through the window, bathing the staircase in enough light to allow me to ascend it without my flashlight. Although I looked closely, I could find no evidence of a society lady lying dead in a pool of blood on the stairs. Rats. Perhaps she had crawled on up and I would find her draped dramatically over the tub in the bathroom.

I don't know why I decided to investigate the upstairs first. I guess it just seemed natural to start at the top and work my way down. As I reached the landing, I couldn't help noticing the curtains framing the large window. They were of a heavy red velvet ("Frankly, Scarlett, I don't give a damn.") and had been beautiful at one time, but now were in tatters. The sun had done its sinister work through the years. I flipped an imaginary coin and decided to take the left staircase. It would be darker at the top without the moonlight, so out came my trusty flashlight. It always made me mad to have to turn on my flashlight because I could never do it without thinking of that goddamn bunny. I did hope he was on the job tonight, however, because the thought of being in complete darkness in this old place was not a comforting one.

There was a bedroom at the top of the stairs and I peeked inside...nothing in there but an old four-poster bed...nice. I had to check the closet. I know it was silly, but, if there was an old man hanging in there, I had to find out. Nope. There weren't even any clothes hanging in there. Ole Junior from Tennessee must have made off with all the loot he could find before he locked up. The master bedroom must be through the large double doors at the end of the hallway. I was anxious to see it, as I knew it had to be huge. Without thinking about it, I opened the door slowly and quietly, so I wouldn't disturb the people who were sleeping in there. I laughed at myself for being so stupid. Habits are hard to break. The last person to sleep in there had dried up and blown away years ago. Again the room was light enough to see without my flashlight, so I turned it off and waited for my eyes to adjust. This was indeed the master bedroom. It was huge with another four-poster bed, only this baby was gigantic! The posts stretched to almost touch the very high ceiling and there were remnants of a sheer material that had been tied at the top of each post and draped down from each to the floor...probably with more of Granny's gardenias. This room must have been amazing in its day. There was no way Junior could have carted this monster off to his lair even if he had wanted to. What a bed!

It was then that I saw it in the shadows. A body laying in the middle of the bed? Was it an optical illusion? No, no, there was something there all right, and whatever it was, it wasn't moving. I hoped it was some homeless guy who had come in through that open door downstairs and camped out for the night. I did not want to deal with anything serious tonight. I wasn't in the mood. I had come here only to do a routine check of the house and go home to bed. I wouldn't turn on the flashlight. Whoever it was was either dead or sleeping and, if it was sleeping, I definitely wanted the advantage of surprise. I crept closer around the side of the bed. As I passed the first post, I saw it...a rope tied there tightly. A chill ran down my spine. Whoever it was was not in this bed because he wanted to be. Holy shit I hoped he was alive. Grisly was not my favorite adjective. Silently, I crept closer for a better look. It was a man, a naked man, tied "spread-eagle" by his legs and arms to the four corners of the bed. There was blood on all the ropes and on his wrists and ankles. It was obvious that he had been struggling to free himself. He was breathing, but it looked like he had worn himself out trying to pull himself free. He seemed to be okay, so I wouldn't disturb him. It would be easier for me if he continued to sleep for awhile and, by the looks of things, he needed the rest. I'd check out the rest of the room and then help out our friend on the bed.

And then I made a mistake. I looked closer at him...in the moonlight. He was absolutely beautiful. His skin was pale and had taken on the color of the moonlight, a sort of creamy color with pale blue shadows. He was muscular, probably an athlete, and muscled like a runner. He had one of the most perfect faces I had ever seen. His lips were full, his cheek bones high, and you could just tell that there would be warm, deep blue eyes behind those soft, beautiful lids. And his dick....holy shit! He had one of the biggest dicks I had ever seen in its flaccid state. It was uncut and was just laying there up over his abdomen in a bed of beautiful blonde pubic hair. I wanted to reach out and touch it. Hell, I wanted to reach out and touch all of him, to caress him, to hold his beautiful soft balls in my big clumsy calloused hands, to have wonderful sex with him. I was instantly in love.

Oh, did I mention that I'm gay? You probably had picked up on that, right? I had pretty much kept it a secret from everyone else. I know it's okay to be a gay policeman now, but not then, not when I started on the force. I had to keep it a big secret. Not even Hank and Charlie knew. Besides, no one was in grave danger. Contrary to popular opinion, gay guys do not get turned on by every thing that has a dick swinging between its legs. Some of us do have our standards. Anyway, I had had this great lover named Brad. Isn't that a great name for a lover? I don't think I could make love to a guy named Ollie or anything like that (No offense meant to any Ollie's out there. I'm sure you're just as cute as hell.) Well, Brad, the asshole (nice one, too) just dropped me one day. He said he had found this guy at a bar and was going to move in with him...said it was the man he had been looking for all of his life, and he was sorry, but he just couldn't help himself. He still loved me, of course, and thought I was great, but Drew was the guy for him. (Wouldn't you know he'd have a name like goddamn Drew?) He thanked me for a wonderful year, grabbed his clothes and he was gone.

I was a basket case (no pun intended), and cried like a baby for three days. I loved the asshole, I really did. I thought we'd be together for life. I thought he felt the same way. Finally, when I was able to go back to work, D could tell there was something really wrong with me. I did my work and pretended nothing had happened, but you know how it is with something like that. You can't really hide it. Finally he said that, if we were going to continue being partners, I had to cut the bullshit and tell him what was going on because he couldn't take my sick puppy behavior much longer. I just looked at him for about a minute and then I broke down completely. D took me in his arms and held me. I'm not kidding, he just held me. He had no idea what was going on. He just knew I needed him and he was there for me. And all you guys who think that's a sissy thing to do can just shove it up your asses, because it was one of the most caring and manly acts I have ever experienced. I cried for what must have been at least half an hour...there was no way I could talk...and then I told him the whole story.

D, of course, was great about it. If I had thought about it, I would have known he would be...he was that kind of guy. He told me that it didn't make any difference to him, but that I had been smart not to tell anyone. He said it could definitely ruin my career. He asked if Hank and Charlie knew, and I said that I hadn't told them, because I hadn't felt any need to. He said that was good. He didn't think it would make any difference to either one of them either, but that there was no need to put that burden of secrecy on them. Besides, he had said, they had probably pretty much figured it out for themselves since Brad had been my roommate for so long and there didn't seem to be any women in the picture. So that was that, and I had been open with D ever since.

And now, here I was in a big old house, looking at the most beautiful man/boy (about 19 or 20 I thought now) I had ever seen, who was naked and tied to a four poster bed, and when I should have been fishing for a knife to cut him loose with, I was standing there looking down at him with probably the biggest hard on of my entire life. Thank God that, even though my dick was completely amoral, I wasn't. The first thing I needed to do was to cut this kid loose and get him to safety. Whoever it was who had him tied up here wouldn't be gone for long, and we had no idea what kind of wacko we were dealing with. The best thing to do would be to call for back-up and get the hell out of Dodge. There was no way I was going to die a hero so close to my retirement. This had to be Tim Allison, and I had been right...his time had been definitely running out. I tried to rouse him, but with no success. I would have to carry him out. He was a big guy. I might have to retire in a body cast.

I cut him loose and knelt down by the bed. I would pull him over to the side of the bed and roll him onto my shoulders. It was a good thing that I had been down there, because it was then that I heard it, a creaking door. Yes, this one creaked. (Thank you, God.) I froze where I was and waited for whatever would happen next. I prayed that I would not end up being the old man that the next cop found hanging in the closet. This guy was huge! Maybe it was just the size of his shadow in the moonlight, but, if he was even close to that size, he was going to be at least seven feet tall and built like a tank. I was glad the kid was still out. In the darkness, it was impossible to tell his bonds had been cut, and so I had the element of surprise on my side. As the guy came around the side of the bed to check on his prisoner, I sprang up out of my position, catching him under the jaw with my best right. It knocked him backwards and I went for my gun, but he was too quick and too strong. In no time he had me down on the floor and was on top of me. I remember that I couldn't see any of his features, but that the moonlight reflected in his eyes. It was like I was being attacked by some sort of demon. He was too strong for me. I could feel it. I tried every trick I knew, but couldn't budge him. It was then that I felt his hands on my neck and he started to strangle me. I had never felt such strong hands, or such large hands for that matter. I knew I would die. I just more or less accepted it and was surprised that I didn't mind too much. It hurt like hell, but dying didn't piss me off nearly as much as I had thought it would. I did feel bad for the kid, though. This idiot was definitely going to kill him too, and he had most of his life ahead of him. I had to give it one last try. With every bit of energy I had left, I tried to roll the guy off me and onto the floor...and then I lost consciousness.

The first thing I remember after that was being slapped hard on both sides of my face. Instinctively, I reached up to grab the guy and get him before he tried to kill me again, when I was stopped by a very strong arm and the most soothing voice I had ever heard. It was soft and gentle and loving...and instead of fighting with everything I had left for my life, I found myself slowly letting go and relaxing. My head was lowered gently to rest on the floor. My neck hurt like shit. All of me hurt like shit. I didn't want to move. I just wanted to lay there and listen to that voice and let it soothe me forever. When I finally came around enough to open my eyes there he was, Tim Allison, kneeling beside me, talking to me and trying to wake me up, just like I had tried to wake him up earlier. Let's see, I had just been thrown to the floor, held there and strangled, given up and decided to die, and instead of thinking about any of that, I was laying on a hard wood floor, my head being cradled by what had to be the most beautiful creature in the world, with a ten inch hard on straining to get out of my pants. I was shameless. I was going to hell...except of course, that right now I was in heaven. But what about the seven foot creature from god knows where? Where was he? Would he attack again?

"The big guy!"

"Over there. Out...cold. I hit him with a lamp...a very big lamp...a very heavy lamp. I hope I killed him."

"I hope you did, too. Did he?"

"No, but he would have. He told me he was going to do it tonight and then he was going to kill me. You came along just in time."

"But I thought you were...."

"I was just coming out of it when you started cutting the ropes. I saw you kneel down and was just about to say something to you, when I heard the door creak. I pretended to be asleep. I was hoping that you would take care of him, but when it became obvious that he was going to win the fight...."

"Hey!"

"I know. He was big and you were out weighed by about a hundred pounds."

"More like a hundred and fifty."

"Okay, a hundred and fifty. I grabbed the old iron lamp beside the bed and let him have it...about sixty times. I think he'll wake up eventually, and if he doesn't...."

"I know, I'm probably not going to be real upset about it myself. You're the Allison kid, right?"

"Well, I'm not exactly a kid. I'm twenty."

"Trust me. You're a kid. You hurt bad?"

"No, not really. He hadn't got around to doing the bad stuff yet. He just seemed to enjoy playing around with me...mentally torturing me. He made me undress and lay on the bed, tied me up, and then...."

"How many times?"

"None, really. He never did. He fondled me and held me and licked me all over a lot. That was the worst part...the licking...but he never seemed to want to physically hurt me or to even fuck me. I think he might have tonight...fucked me. I know he was going to kill me tonight. He said so. And he was nuts. Real nuts."

"And he didn't hurt you at all?

"No. The only physical damage I did to myself, trying to get out of those ropes. It hurt like hell, but there's nothing like knowing you're going to be killed to keep you going. Finally, I think I just exhausted myself and passed out."

Tim stood up and helped me to my feet, and then over to the bed. The fact that he was naked didn't seem unusual. I had never seen him in clothes. Apparently he had brushed against me as he helped me off the floor because in spite of everything that had just happened, my sex-starved old dick was springing to life again.

"What's your name?"

"Oh, Cal, I guess we haven't been formally introduced. Officer Calvin Krause at your service."

"Thank-you, Officer Krause, for saving my life. How does one usually thank an officer for life saving?"

"No thanks necessary, Mr. Allison. It's all in a day's work."

"But, if I could think of a way, you wouldn't object, right?"

"Depends on what it is. We at the department have our rules."

"How about if I helped you get rid of that little problem you seem to have in your pants?"

"Problem in my pants?"

"This one...."

And with that, Tim Allison...beautiful Tim Allison...unbelievable Tim Allison...sexy Tim Allison, reached down and grabbed my hard dick through my uniform pants. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. He took me completely by surprise. So, I just stood there while this beautiful kid, unzipped my pants, took out my hard cock and started to suck on it. Oh my god! What was going on here? About a half hour ago this kid was tied up by a crazy man to a four-poster bed waiting for the guy to come back and kill him and now he was calmly sucking my cock. I pulled away and looked down at him.

"What's the matter?"

"You're sucking my dick. That's what's the matter."

"You don't like it?"

"Of course, I like it. That's not the point. I'm a cop. You have just been tied to a bed for like three days. The man who did it is laying in a clump in the corner. You have bloody wrists and no clothes on. I have a sore neck with probably permanent finger marks on it from an attempted strangulation, and you are now kneeling down and sucking my dick."

"You're point?"

"My point is that this is the craziest thing I think I've ever done in my whole life."

"And you want me to stop?"

"Well, I don't know if I want you to stop or not. No, I guess I don't want you to stop. You've got to be the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on. Why would I want you to stop? But we should stop. What if someone finds out? We shouldn't be doing this. You're a kid. I'm an old man."

"You're gay, right?"

"Yeah, I think that should be pretty obvious by now."

"And I'm gay, right?"

"That would also seem to be the case."

"You saved my life."

"Yeah, and you saved mine."

"So we both owe each other a favor, right?"

"Okay, I can go there."

"Then I have an idea: I'll blow you and then you fuck me and we'll be all even...that okay?

"Well........yeah, I guess that'll be all right."

"Then get your fine ass back over here, Mr. Policeman. You're my hero, and I want to show just how grateful I can be."

And he did, too. That boy was as grateful as a boy could be, and he had the most talented lips in three counties. After he finished blowing me for awhile (and quite expertly I should add), he slowly undressed me, moving my hands into position to fondle his balls the whole time he did so, and then, laid me down on the bed, spreading my legs as wide as they would go. Then, he climbed over the foot of the bed and planted that beautiful head and that wonderful soft, caressing platinum hair right between my legs. He hadn't eaten in three days and the kid was making up for lost time. I was sure that, when he came up for air, there would be nothing left of me down there. He actually seemed to be consuming everything I had. First he ate my dick, inch by inch, down to the nubs, and then, he nibbled slowly on my balls, making a feast of them that seemed to last for hours.

"Kid, I'm an old man. I may have survived the fight, but, if we don't get on with this soon, I ain't gonna survive the fuck."

Tim laughed and came up from my balls, positioning himself over my chest with his mammoth dick ready for insertion into my more than willing mouth. It had been some time since I had been with an uncircumcised man and I took the opportunity for some long awaited foreskin fun. I loved the feeling of inserting the tip of my tongue inside his foreskin and licking the tip of his dick. That was out of sight. I also loved chewing lightly on the foreskin, and sucking it tenderly into my mouth. Tim had a lot of foreskin and I took plenty of time to enjoy each little bit of it before....

Oh, my god, what a dick! Oh, my god, what a gorgeous dick! Oh, my god, what.... Well you've got the picture. Sucking on that boy's dick was probably the best sexual experience of my life. Brad and Drew could just fuck themselves into oblivion as far as I was concerned. Have fun, fellas. I have found nirvana. I am home. Yes!!!! I did not hurry this suck, because in spite of everything, I was a realist. I knew that Tim would probably not be this grateful to me ever again and that I should enjoy his gracious magnanimity now for all it was worth. Lordy, did I suck that dick, and Lordy, did that boy moan and writhe. While he was moaning and writhing, he reached back and fondled my dick and balls. I finally made him stop that, because I had no intention of shooting my load anywhere but in that heaven that was between his ass cheeks. Finally, even he could take it no longer.

"Cal, baby, you've got to fuck me now. Otherwise, we are going to fire a two gun salute into the cold thin air and I know neither of us wants that to happen. So let's go, baby. My ass is aching for you. Come and get it."

I needed no further invitation, but I would stop for a short hors d'oeuvre before enjoying the main course. Such an ass...it almost made me forget the amazing dick. Such as ass! Oh, such an ass! But I do go on. But, such an ass! My tongue hit that baby, and twirled this way and that and up and down and in and out until I thought it would break off. The beautiful essence of that boy reached my nose and angels sang "hallelujah!" I would have stuck around there for a couple more choruses, but there was no way my dick and balls were going to tolerate that. We had no lube handy, so Tim gave my dick one of the wettest lickings it had ever taken and I did the same to his beautiful rosebud (Did I mention what an ass this kid had?), and it was prime time. He stuck that pouty little sucker up in the air and my dick hollered "hot damn!!!" and away we went. My, my, how my dick did slide inside that boy with ease. He had done this before, and was oh, so good at it. I didn't have to do much of anything except grab the reins and hold on for dear life. If I hadn't just decided not to, I think I might have lost consciousness about half way through the ordeal, but I just decided that, no matter how good it got to feeling, I was going to stay with it. And it got to feeling better and better and we got to going faster and faster and I got to thrusting deeper and deeper, and we got to moaning and groaning and then screaming and hollering and finally it was the Fourth of July and my whole body was the fireworks finale. Reds, blues, greens, yellows and purples were going off in my head and in my balls, and they didn't stop until the canons fired off at the end of "The 1812 Overture!" Holy shit, but that boy could fuck. And I must have been pretty good myself because the bed beneath us was really wet and Tim was saying over and over: "Oh, my god; Oh, my god; Oh, my god; Oh, my god."

And then, we just sort of collapsed on the bed and held each other. He was so nice and warm and muscular and cute and I was...well, he was nice and warm and muscular and cute. I would have liked to have loved him. I think I could have. But we both knew better. We knew exactly what it was and enjoyed it for what it was...probably the finest fuck the world had ever known.

"Cal, I liked that...a lot."

"Me, too, Tim, my boy."

"I think I love you, Cal."

"No you don't, Tim."

"Well, maybe not, but you sure can fuck."

"And you have probably the nicest ass ever placed on God's green earth."

"Good match, huh?"

"A very good match."

"We can fuck again, can't we, Cal?"

"I don't see why not."

"I mean, we don't have to be in love to keep fucking."

"Nope."

"I mean, I can come to your place a lot and we can fuck."

"Tim, I really like you. I would like you even if you weren't the most beautiful man in the universe. You can come to my place anytime you want and we don't have to ever fuck again...although that would certainly be a tragedy, but I would get through it. We can be friends as long as you want. But someday, you will meet the love of your life and it won't be me, and you will want to be with him and that's great and our wonderful fucking will be over."

"But we'll still be great friends."

"Absolutely."

"Even though I have a lover."

"Absolutely."

"What if I could get him to fuck you too? Could we do that?"

"You know, Tim, I like you better all the time. Now, let's wrap you up in an old curtain and get us all the hell out of here."

"Ah, do we have to?"

"Yes, we have to, and wipe that smile off your face, son. You've just been through a terrible ordeal."