5 comments/ 26710 views/ 4 favorites Miseries in Mauve By: CalHollows OK. I'm pushy. I'm an abrasive, irritating, know-it-all. 'Asshole', I guess would be an appropriate - strike that, PERFECT - term for me. I'm that guy at the party you see talking in the corner, wearing a beatific smile of intellectual arrogance you want to beat into jelly. Then, as the evening wears on, I become louder and louder, drowning out everyone else. At some point, you either want to kill me or do so. I'm still alive, so you missed. Sometimes, I get thrown out. But... dammit... I make my point And I can be hurt. Bad. Some time ago, I managed an apartment building in San Francisco. It was on the frontiers of the Castro, toward downtown, and most of the residents were gay, like me, or were heading for the hills. The Castro was in that "transitional" phase moving from Irish-Catholic working class to Hungry Man. There was a collection of youngsters, also, who came and went - students at surrounding universities like Berkeley, easily accessible by then-new BART train. Some were gay, most were straight, and all of them short-termers. They avidly took advantage of rents that were still low around Upper Market neighborhoods. Boy, did that change... Anyway, one day this kid moves in who looks real good. Lean, tanned, blond - a gangly yet somehow graceful guy I took to be early-20s, but found out to my amazement was only 18. He was attending school at UCSF, the medical school above the Haight, learning to be a nurse, of all things. Something about him told me he was a straight as they come, but he had an infectious enthusiasm and charming naivete I usually found absolutely grating but in him was... cute. There was very little about him that wasn't cute, in fact. His body was covered with nothing more than peach-fuzz, the same blond as his head, so it blended away into his skin in a way that made him seem almost feminine. High cheekbones, happy blue eyes that squinted when he smiled. A big dimple in his chin. Terry was gorgeous. The kind of natural sexy that's impossible to fake. But something even more attractive about him was that he wasn't a bit put-on or arrogant about it. He really was friendly and caring. In big cities, in this country, many times that's taken for dumb, and he certainly wasn't that, either. In fact, it amused him that some took him that way. After I helped him move in, and he helped me paint an apartment for showing, Terry and I became pretty good pals. Sometimes, when I went to the roof for my daily sunbath, he'd be there, stretched out irresistably naked. When I sat down beside him, he'd roll over and put on some of drudgy boxer-style swim trunks. He was honest about being bashful, telling me he was from the conservative Midwest. Nevertheless, he seemed at ease with me, even when I stripped down to bust-out nakedness and sat on my towel like a paunchy, bearded Buddha. At first, he was reluctant to let me oil his back, but finally relented. I was careful not to get carried away as I spread lotion over his warm, tawny skin. Everything businesslike, I'd tell myself, never drifting too low on his hips, never getting to suggestive with my touch. Occasionally, when I'd approach the roof and see him there, alone and naked, I'd pause to watch him awhile. He lay in the sun with utter abandon, unaware of how delectable he appeared in the sheen of tanning oil. More fit than athletic. Firm shoulders and upper arms, same for pecs. But a kind of arousing fragility began to set in around his nipples. Somewhat more prominent than usual, they appeared flush and supple, dotted with the central nubbins, little cylinders of flesh. They were extraordinarily... perky for his sex. And as torso dropped lower, it seemed to become more delicate. Not so much soft as tender. Long lean belly, slightly mounded in an alluring way, punctured by the gaping socket of his navel. A sensual sinkhole poked into smooth abdomen, it riveted attention simply by its size - a sexy recess so pronounced it seemed to wound his belly with vulnerability. And I think he was aware of me watching him; I could tell he was growing to like my attention. Maybe it was imagination, but it seemed at times he proffered his body to me. He'd arch his back slightly, toward the sun in absolute surrender, the smooth bow of chest and belly a dazzling prize. He made breathing a hard-on. I had no real designs on him. But I was beginning to like Terry. He had a real no-nonsense kind of approach to problems and was, for lack of a better term, nurturing. He helped me through a summer cold, and soothed a bad sunburn with red cider vinegar, believe it or not. And his shyness was somehow alluring, too. I comforted myself that I was a big-brother figure, even though I knew in my heart my emotions were setting me up for what could be a huge fall. As the summer wore on, I began to wonder if I was developing a crush on him. And, of course, I wondered how he felt. Since we were in a sunny part of town, on the fringe of the Mission, we got a lot of sunshine in that foggy city. We spent a lot of time on the roof, and gradually, as we got to know one another, Terry began wearing less and less. First smaller trunks, then a brief Speedo. Finally, he was down to bikini underwear that seemed to get successively more miniscule. I couldn't take my eyes off him. When he'd get up to retrieve a drink from a cooler or just survey the city splayed out below, I'd drink him in. Sometimes resting on an elbow, ogling him behind my shades, I'd consider attacking him with a kiss. We'd lay side by side, our upper arms pressing together, our sweat intermingling there. Once in intimate conversation, I felt him trembling when our talk turned sexual. He told me he was straight. Then he said something odd: "Gay sex is for the brave." Without much thought, I categorized Terry. He was just friendly eye candy. That's all. I tried not to think of him when he was out of sight, and mostly I was successful. Then I saw the photographs. Walking downtown, I passed a camera shop with a large poster in front advertising an exhibit by a well-known, avant-garde photographer. The poster was illustrated with a huge black and white photo of what looked like two men posed in rough sex play. With an almost sledge-hammer jolt, I realized one of them was Terry. He was kneeling in the foreground on what looked like an endless field of black vinyl, wearing only a pair of black-leather chaps slung so low most of his pubic hair was exposed. Terry's very familiar mid-section arched out in surrender. A naked man behind him gripped his arms to his sides and was sucking on his neck, vampire style. Terry's head was turned upward in what looked like terror - or ecstasy - and for a long time I couldn't tell if it was him or not. But as much as I tried to deny it, I knew it had to be. Another guy came up and gave a low whistle and jealousy washed over me. I was about to turn, to shake it all off, when I saw it: a tiny mole just beside his left nipple. No doubt now. It was Terry. The long stalk of his body seemed to glisten with sweat or oil. This is an innocent seduced, the photo screamed. In shadowed perfection was the midline of his torso, running from the bottom of his neck, between his pecs, through the small of his stomach and down the smooth plane of his abdomen to infinity - a furrow broken only by the fragile cavity of his unprotected navel. So... I took in the show. Photo after photo of grinding bodies, and, finally, another of Terry; this one in full color, shocking in its naked intimacy, but relaxed, almost innocent. He looks down, one arm up as if he was scratching the back of his neck. His trousers are splayed open and his naked torso bursts out of them as he leans against a doorjamb. He seems at once unaware and beckoning. I was furious. I raged for hours. Finally, I realized the futility of it. I was angry at Terry the same way I would be had he betrayed me with another man, but he wasn't a lover. We weren't intimate. I didn't own him. Yet the obsession wouldn't cool. I found myself going back again and again to the photo shop. It seemed each time I did, I found something new in the image, like his attacker's finger extending to press into Terry's nipple. His nakedness seemed to ripple, inviting violation. The next time I encountered him on the roof, I guess my feelings gave me away. He asked me what was wrong. First I denied anything was wrong. After a moment, he let it go. He chattered on about how, as he lay in the sun, soaking up the rays, he felt a new, direct warmth in his body. The sun seemed to pour over him, filling every part of his body with moist, warm heat. He began to see his body as a map of jumbled wiring with the most senistive spots - where nerves clustered in sensitive readiness - centered in anatomy that either jutted out or sank into depressed hollows. A knee, or the bowl-like dimpling at the bottom of his throat, suddenly became rich in erotic sensation. I growled him silent, since the monologue was beginning to get to me. I begrudged the sun for working him over the same way I wanted to. He asked me if I'd like a backrub. I hesitated a moment without really knowing why. Terry gave great backrubs, covering almost everything, but concentrating on the back, of course, and never straying down to my bare buttocks. His touch was... magic. That day, he began working my shoulders, sitting on his calves, his knees bookending my head. My sunglasses shielded my eyes as I studied his belly only a few inches from my face. As he pressed the heels of his palms into my shoulders, his body bowed out slightly, arching toward me, and he made slight grunts of effort. His tawny skin had a light sheen of sweat in the warm sun. I stared into the pit of his navel, that erogenous basin that so enticingly marked his abdomen. In a rounded v-shape, it was an impossibly sexy inverted triangle. It was shallow enough to see a tiny bud of flesh at its pit, deep enough to require thorough exploration. Just about perfect, and it was all I could do to keep from spearing it right then. "May I join you?" We both were startled at Diego's voice. He sat down and began rubbing his beefy body with oil, chatting happily. We chatted back. I was grateful for the chance to break away from my flesh fantasies. We talked about beer, we talked about sports. And... we talked about sex. At one point, Diego mentioned that he'd seen the photographs of Terry as well. "They were incredible," he said, burning a gaze through Terry. Shifting a little, nervously, Terry explained the photographer literally had snatched him off a streetcorner and offered him $500. How could he refuse? Besides, he noted, it was an ego trip to be considered so attractive to be a model. Sexy is more like it, Diego replied. Terry smiled. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I saw their eyes lock a moment. There were times, studying the photo, when I considered Terry may have been into some... scene somewhere. Orgies. Men. I tried not to go there, since the idea of other men fucking him, especially in some Babylon nightmare, almost drove me over the edge. Then I did something I probably shouldn't have done. I joined them puffing some powerful weed. It always made me a little paranoid. I began to become self-conscious, and delusions popped up that I could read my companion's mind, everything drenched in powerful eroticism. That horney feeling marijuana provoked also gnawed at me, and I began to fantasize myself in sexual distress, stripped and violated, ejacualting in frightened arousal. Terry's monologue about a sensual sun came back to me and my senses began to pool in my own erogenous zones, each coming alive in demanding sensation. A throb began behind my navel. I'd never thought of it as particularly arousing before I was arrested by Terry's. It's erotic for maybe half the population; for the other half, zipless. For some, it's merely ticklish, and nobody wants a sex partner laughing in their face. But for those who have erogenous response in that common hollow, it's a powerful spot, on the same circuit as lips, nipples, genitals and asshole. I wonder if Terry shared the feeling I had now. ...If he needed insistent probing in his own recesses. To shake it all off, I excused myself to get more beer and went downstairs. When I got to my room, the phone rang and a demanding old queen on the third floor needed a ring retrieved from his sink trap. Cursing to myself, I finished the job in about 20 minutes and returned to the roof. As I got to the corner of the deck, I heard what sounded like heavy breathing and slight moans. I peeked around the corner. Terry was laying on his stomach, his arms bent in front of him, and his head up, rocking from side to side as he gasped and moaned. He was completely naked. Naked as well, Diego sat straddling Terry's legs, kneading his buttocks tightly in his hands. From there, he ran his hands up Terry's sides to his armpits and then back down, digging his fingertips into his flesh. Finally, he ended again on Terry's naked butt, squeezing the cheeks flush-pink and pulling more gasps from Terry. Diego's thumbs came startling close to dipping into Terry's asscrack. Clearing my throat, I rounded the corner. Surprisingly, Diego continued, and Terry didn't move. I took my place again and opened a beer. "Anybody need anything?" I asked. After a moment, in a shaky voice Terry said, "That feels so good." Then he moaned again. Diego's intense rubdown continued for several minutes; finally, he wrapped up and lay down beside Terry. As he took a beer from me with a smile, he rested on his side, and somewhat provocatively ran his forefinger up and down Terry's spine, from neck to buttcrack. Terry squimed a little - not in displeasure. That was the moment when my jealousy of Diego began. More than a little miffed at being ignored while they continued their sensual interlude, I began to begrudge Terry for being naked in the presence of another man. He'd never done so for me. As if on cue, Diego said: "Sorry about your bikini. I couldn't help myself," making a little toasting gesture with his beer. Terry smiled back at him for a long moment and said, "Something tells me that's not the first time you stripped a man naked." He wiggled a little on his towel, his bare bottom shifting fetchingly. Taking a slug of beer, I began, painfully, to feel like a third wheel. I was also stung by realization something was growing between the two of them. Lust if not affection - surely lust on Diego's part. I didn't know him that well, but he seemed to consider himself a gay swain, God's unique gift to shattering orgasm. In his nakedness, Diego's huge dick seemed to confirm at least some braggadocio; as he stared at Terry, the penis bobbed to full erection. "I threw his underwear across the deck," he said to me, with a triumphant smile. He reached down and rubbed Terry's bottom an instant. Terry wiggled a little more. "I'll get it for you," Diego said, starting to get to his feet. "Leave it," Terry said, and rolled on his side to look at Diego. His back was to me, and I knew Diego now could see all of Terry's succulent nakedness. They paused there a moment, regarding each other as I drifted deeper into bitter shadow. Terry reached over and retrieved something from his gym bag, and as he slipped it on, we saw it was the tiniest string-bikini briefs he'd yet worn. He was all but naked, yet wouldn't go completely bare for long. In that moment, I found that detail strangely encouraging. He began rubbing Diego's back in his efficient, expert nurse's way. Diego would occasionally let out a little moan of pleasure himself, as I often did under Terry's caress. Terry ended up where he was earlier with me, straddling his Diego's head and pressing his palm deep in his shoulders. Diego's chin wrested on his entwined fingers, watching without sunglass-camouflage Terry's abdomen ripple in front of him. His gaze seemed to burn a hole right through Terry, and I knew both of them could feel it. Finally, Terry asked in affectionate, mock-admonishment, "What are you doing?" "I'm contemplating your navel." "What do you see in there?" Terry whispered, with teasing flavor, still rubbing Diego's shoulders. "Unexplored territory," replied Diego. With that, Diego reached out a fingertip and ran it around the rim of Terry's navel, just outside the recess. Terry was very still, watching Diego's finger trace its path. He didn't pull away. In a voice very low, maybe imploring, he said, "It's... sensitive... " "Big ones usually are," Diego answered. "A ripe strawberry could fit in there. And chocolate sauce?" As way of reply, Terry tried to chuckle. "It's very sexy," Diego said quietly. There was that word again. "Thank you," Terry said, staring at him. His smile was long gone, and there was flush in his cheeks. Diego had been studying the circuit of his fingertip on Terry's belly. Now he looked up at Terry for a long moment, also unsmiling, before turning his attention again to his vulnerable target. The game was becoming serious. Leaning forward, he kissed the middle of Terry's abdomen; it was just a peck and then Diego pulled away. He again looked up at Terry, who was breathing deeply now. As Terry watched motionless, Diego kissed the spot again, longer this time, caressing it in silent smacks of his lips growing wider to moistly swab the smooth skin. He pulled back again, examining the wet circle he'd left on the trembling belly, a few inches below Terry's navel. And he kissed the spot again, deeper and even more warmly. His lips released Terry's flesh and he let the point of his thick tongue trace circles on the tawny skin, poking with its tip ever deeper, before again covering the soaked flesh with his moist lips. His nead nodded back and forth as he sucked at the spot. Terry's breath started coming in little gasps. He glanced at me, with a look a little confused, then looked back down at Diego's strongly sucking lips building moist heat on and now in his belly. He squirmed a little, but didn't pull away. He gasped at each wet kiss from Diego's insistent mouth, the suction of flesh obviously pulling at the sensitive root deep in his navel, now so close. With perfect timing, Diego began lapping and swabbing his tongue up the abdomen to Terry's quivering navel and, reaching it, swirled the pointed tongue inside. This time, Terry's body jolted and he let out a curling sigh. Trembling, Terry began pushing his belly forward in response to Diego's deep thrusts, evident by the vibration in his cheek. At times, Diego would pull away again to let his probing tongue alone explore - thoroughly scouring the intimate cavity. He rotated it wide before circling back to center, to Terry's very core. Then the hungry mouth closed again over his navel and accompanied the erotically exploring tongue with powerfully sucking kisses. Terry now moaned deeply. Diego's hand reached around to the small of his back, to support Terry's undulating torso. Leaving the navel with a final lick around its perimeter, Diego again looked Terry in the eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said. He again swiped his fingertip around the rim of the sensitized socket. Then, with deliberate thrust, Diego speared Terry's navel with the forefinger, now lubricated with saliva. The long digit skewered Terry until finally stopping at his very limit. Gasping, whimpering in alarm as he was spindled in his core, Terry shuddered, and another groan shook out of him. "That's better... isn't it." Terry whimpered again, mesmerized, staring down at the long, brown digit penetrating him. Holding his finger very stiffly, Diego began spiraling its tip in the pit of Terry's navel, beginning a slow, circular stir deep inside. Miseries in Mauve Terry was now wracked by trembling shakes. His head rolled back slightly, then forward again, his eyes closed; he let out a low, surrendering groan. "Yeah... That feels good, doesn't it?" Diego coaxed. "I... I", Terry stammered, his torso arching out involutarily in availing response to Diego's sensual probing. Diego now began pumping his finger deep into Terry, fucking him mercilessly with expert plunges in the kernal of his belly. Terry let out a quivering moan each time the finger stroked into him and his head rose and fell, rocking slightly from side to side. He leaned back, his torso bowed out in vulnerable surrender, his hands tentatively reaching down until they landed and planted on the deck. "That's it, isn't it?" Diego prodded. "That's right where you need it. Right in the pit, the very root of you..." Terry whimpered a little, trembling as the relentless finger skewered him, wiggling and scratching in his depths. Again Diego began the circular, intrusive explorations. Suddenly, Terry's dick sprang out of his tiny bikini; it was at full erection, throbbing into view. Terry squealed and almost sobbed in pleasure and embarassment. He reached down to hide it, but Diego beat him to it, grabbing the penis with oiled fingers and stroking it to its root. Terry shook and moaned loudly. Diego began jacking the dick repeatedly; he rose on the other hand and covered Terry's mouth with his. Terry let out another squeal, muffled now by Diego's mouth, and the larger man forced Terry back to the deck, grabbing the scruff of his neck and laying him down gently, kissing him, all the while relentlessly pumping his dick. I was hypnotized by this spectacle, frozen in place. As torn with jealousy and rage as I was in that moment, an electric bolt of arousal had shot down my body to my own dick. I couldn't stop watching. Diego hungrily kissed Terry deeply, and the young innocent began responding, moaning and kissing, as well. Diego bit and chewed down Terry's neck and back to his mouth. Then he licked and sucked one nipple, then another, each attack bringing a gasping sigh and jolt from Terry. He began sucking hard on the mound of Terry's belly, planting a circle of dark-pink hickies around his navel. Then he rose and kissed him again on the mouth. His extended tongue coursed the midline of Terry's torso back down to his belly, and his tongue again speared Terry's navel, a thick, slick snake plunging deep inside. Terry groaned and arched his back. Finally, his entire mouth closed over it for a long, torturous sucking that brought whimpers from Terry, then he popped free with loud smack that wracked Terry's bowed midsection. Diego swallowed Terry's dick in one gulp. To the root. He stroked it with his lips, up and down, lingering to suck and lick its pink head, then swallowing again. He stripped off the flimsy bikini and climbed between Terry's legs. He bobbed his head up and down as he feverishly sucked Terry's dick, whirling his head in circles to intensify the sensation. Terry's body bent upwards at each downstroke, and the boy moaned deeply. His torso now was spotted with vandalism of Diego's furious sucking mouth.They seemed connecting dots turning slowly brown in bruise, leading from one inflamed torment to another, nipple to stomach to belly and navel. Diego left Terry's penis only to suck each of his balls in his mouth and torment the boy with painful/pleasurable-filled suction. Then he swabbed Terry's very bottom and closed his mouth on his rectum. Terry jumped in alarm as Diego began sucking and tonguing his puckered asshole, and the sheer nastiness of what he was doing pushed the boy deeper into uncontrollable ecstasy. He returned to Terry's reddened dick, stroking it up and down, swallowing it whole. Finally, the moaning young man burst in orgasm, his jism filling Diego's mouth and dripping out its sides. Diego held Terry's body by the hips and shook him from side to side in theatrical ferocity. Finally, he gave up the withering penis, slowly licking it one last time, all around its circuit, from root to tip. Terry lay silent, his forearm over his eyes. Diego rolled over beside him. Terry's other arm covered his torso. For a long time, no one moved or spoke. "Terry, it's OK," Diego said with genuine tenderness. Terry shakily rose and gathered his things. He seemed... blank. It was impossible to tell if he was angry or ashamed, hurt or distressed. Diego and I watched him leave the roof silently. I was shaken, too. The casual explosion of the past minutes blazed through me, even though I wasn't a participant. And that began to ache, too. I looked at Diego, trying to keep under control my raging passions. "You shouldn't have done that," I said finally. "Perhaps I shouldn't fuck him, either," Diego said, sucking his exacting fingertip. "...But I'm going to." In the days that followed, I hardly saw Terry. He never seemed to be on the root, at least not when I was there. When I did encounter him, he was as friendly as ever, promising to get together with me at some point. It was pointless now to deny I cared deeply for him. I couldn't let go of the obsession, of the jealousy. I began to watch the doors of each man's room, to listen for footsteps, or signs of furtive rendezvous. I thought, since I had the passkeys; I had access to their rooms; I could slip into their closets... And the ridiculousness of that scalded me. I realized I was driving myself crazy. I sat alone in my room. My head was swimming. I looked up at the ceiling to change my mental target, find some new image, new subject to fix upon. In the dim light, I thought I saw flames leap up. In a brief panic, I gasped - convinced the house was afire. An instant and I realized it was reflected lights of a passing fire engine. Piercing sound of the siren seared into the room. For the first time in my life, I wanted to cry, just to ease the wracking pain. I couldn't. Finally, I was able to get together with Diego for a drink at a neighborhood bar. I tried to hide my intentions, talking, again, about sports, cars, sex. And that led to Terry. He seemed to read my mind, to know exactly my motivations and how to plague me with them. He smirked at me and snapped a toothpick in two. "Let me tell you something, my friend. He knows I want him, and he's not running away. A few days ago, he was sitting right where you are now. I was a little sloshed and I told him just how much I want him, how one of these hot nights I would seek him out. I reached up and grabbed the hair at the scruff of his neck, just above his collar. I began twisting his head around - very gently, you understand. All the while, I told him what I planned to do to him, leaving nothing out. "Throughout all this, he was frozen in his seat. Nothing I did drew a peep from him. I tilted his head this way and that, and stroked the nape of his neck. He was completely in my power. His chest was heaving. I was getting to him. He wanted this... silence to convey to me that he was ready. That I can seduce him and fuck him. And I will." I wandered around the next few days in a kind of sleepwalk. I wanted to get away. I wanted to be out of this. I wanted to be Diego, to have his power and whatever he held for Terry. A few days later, I went to the roof. The door was locked and there was a sign for construction. Since I managed the building, I knew that wasn't true. Suspicious, I went downstairs and opened the access closet to the fan tower. I climbed stairs to the top landing. A large, screened opening looked out on the deck. There, directly below me, were Diego and Terry. Naked. Terry lay on his stomach as Diego lay atop him, kissing and sucking at his neck. Terry lifted his head at each caress, his eyes closed. Diego rose to kneeling position and spread Terry's legs; he ran his massive dick up and down the furrow of the boy's ass. Terry seemed tense and uncertain, and I realized this was his first time. So this was it. It was happening. Diego put the head of the oiled dick at Terry's bottom and pushed. They pressed together a moment, both straining. Then, Terry suddenly yelped, his head shot up. "Wait... wait," he begged. "Take it out." Diego held his dick there a moment, then pushed in further. Terry moaned and went limp. Slowly, Diego began fucking him, moving in and out only an inch or two. Terry whimpered at each of his movements, but he didn't pull away. I prayed he would back out, that it wouldn't happen. Gradually, as Diego continued, Terry began to raise his butt to meet the shallow thrusts. After a while, the strokes began getting deeper, and Terry began to shudder a little - but no longer in pain. Finally, as Diego's dick pistoned in and out of him, Terry began moaning, softly at first. Then, inevitably, Diego pulled his dick almost out before driving it into Terry to the hilt; Terry gasped and tried to say something, his words becoming more whimper, then moan. Leaning forward on his hands, Diego snaked his body in a ripple above Terry to maximize depth of his plunges, his rolling hips driving the piston. Below him, Terry squirmed and groaned at each deep stroke. He sounded hurt badly, in deep pain. Slowly, as the relentless fucking continued, Terry rose to his elbows, then hands and knees. But he could only stay up a few moments until the sheer depth of Diego's penetration weakened him and drove him down again to the deck. Diego fucked him a few more strokes with the length of his vein-rippled dick, then slowly pulled it out. It sprang out of Terry's bottom with a pop, and a jerking yelp from Terry. "I want to see you when I fuck you," Diego said with a growl and rolled Terry over, belly up. He sank his dick in Terry and began fucking him with smooth, deep thrusts, all the way to the root. Terry arched his body with each lunging penetration and gasped at the sensation. He belly seemed to poke out a little, trembling, each time Diego drove home his huge member. Diego held up Terry's legs and bit and sucked in the hollow of his knees. He grasped the boy's dick and began jacking him off with long strokes. Terry gasped and groaned at each movement of the dick spearing his guts. I couldn't take it anymore. Edging my way to the door, I opened it and stepped out. I walked to their side. In the air, there was an ascetic smell of smeared saliva and organic odor of punctured rectum. Diego saw me first, but, as usual, gave me little attention. "Get out of here," he growled between his teeth. "Terry," I said. There was a little, choking sob in the word. I didn't know what could follow. Between gasps each time Diego skewered him, Terry said, gently but urgently, "Barry... would... you... get outta... here... uuhhhhh". His head rolled back. Diego intensified his rhythm, the depth of his relentless fucking. "Yes," Terry gasped, "Fuck me deep." As I reached the door and unlocked it, I looked back. I heard them both grunt in orgasm. They shook together and Diego's face contorted as he shot his load into the boy. Terry's dick spirted a fountain of jism into Diego's chest. His head shot back and he screamed as he was drained. They trembled together for a long moment, rocking a little back and forth. Finally, slowly, Diego collapsed atop Terry in slow motion; both of them exhaling like horses and moaning low, as if badly injured. I walked alone down the stairs. Soon... darkness would fall.