Places

Places, St. Louis Places: Saint Louis
By John Yager

This is one more in the series of short vignettes collectively titled Places.

I want to extend continued and sincere thanks to Andrew for much needed help with proofing and editing.

This work is copyright © by the author, 2004, and may not be reproduced in any form without specific written permission from the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

jvoyager@hotmail.com

It had been a rushed trip, but when I heard Clay would be in St. Louis, I couldn't miss the chance of seeing him again. A few phone calls and a little juggling of my schedule, and I was ready to go.

The drive to St. Louis that Friday afternoon took almost four hours.

With the weekend coming, traffic was heavy but I had trouble keeping my eyes on the Interstate and my mind on driving, just thinking that as I was driving Clay was in the air, winging his way east from San Francisco.

It had been a hastily called meeting of some board Clay was on which had prompted his trip, and of course he called Evan to see if he'd be in town, and if Clay could bunk in with him. I knew those guys well enough that when they said "bunk in" it could only mean one thing.

I knew them both, but separately. The idea of being with both of them at once was a sexual fantasy of the first order, and well worth dropping everything to join them for what I knew would be one amazing weekend.

It had been Evan who'd suggested I should meet Clay when I'd planned a business trip to San Francisco a few weeks earlier.

It had turned out to be one amazing afternoon, an afternoon that changed my life, and if Clay was telling the truth, it had changed his life, too. Now there was a chance of a return engagement, not only with Clay, but with Evan as well, and I wasn't about to miss that.

When I arrived at Evan's apartment building and rang the bell, I was greeted by silence. At that point I called his cell from my cell and his voice came on after just one ring.

"I just picked up Clay at Lambert and we're on our way home. Ten, fifteen minutes, max."

I waited in my car, sweating a little, not from the heat, but from anticipation. I realized I was nervous. I could feel it in my bones, that sensation you get just before a storm, the way the air quivers, still one moment, stirring the leaves on trees the next.

A few minutes later Evan came walking out of the front door of his building with a big grin on his handsome face. I saw him in my rearview mirror and was standing on the curb by the time he reached my car. We embraced and he gave me a quick kiss. It wasn't an unusual site to see two men hug, or even kiss, in that particular part of St. Louis.

"Where's Clay?" I asked.

"He's taking a shower. He said he felt grubby after four hours in airports and a crowded plane."
"I feel grubby after four hours in a car," I retorted with a sly, meaningful smile.

"So," Evan laughed, picking up on my meaning, "you want to join him?"

"Yeah, definitely."

I got my bag out of the trunk, locked the car, and we headed in.

Evan had a big condo, bedrooms at either end, a large living room and dining area in the middle. I knew from my previous visit that he'd made the bedroom at the left end his own, the one at the right, a den and guest room. Both had baths with big showers. The sound of a shower on full throttle came from the right.

"Help yourself," Evan said. "I may join you two in a minute but I need to get some stuff put away first."

I dropped my bag in the entry way and was naked by the time I got to the bathroom, leaving a disorderly trail of clothes along the way.

"Hey, hunk," I called to Clay over the sound of the shower.

"That you, John?"

"Yep, the one and only."

He slid the foggy door open a few inches and looked out at me.

"My, my, naked and ready," he laughed, opening the door wider so I could join him. "To quote Mae West, 'you look happy to see me.'"

"Yep, and you look pretty happy, too."

His cock, considerably bigger than mine, was fully erect and the water cascading off it created quite a show.

I reached out and grasped it. Clay moaned and drew me in for a long, powerful kiss. Our bodies merged under the pummeling water. Our tongues danced and sparred, thrusting, renewing acquaintance.

"I needed that," he smiled when our lips finally parted.

"A kiss or a shower?" I laughed, overcome with the joy of seeing him again.

"Both, stud."

We lathered each other, washing each intimate crevice and curve, stroking each other a bit, but not risking a premature eruption.

Without saying it, we both understood that this was going to be a long weekend, and it wasn't a matter of any one of us getting more attention than the other two. There'd be no pairing off, either. There were three, Evan, Clay and me, and it was share and share like, community property, an equitable division of goods.

"You guys done?" Evan called over the noise of the shower.

"Depends on what you mean by 'done,'" Clay laughed, sliding the door ajar to reveal our naked host.

Evan, shorter and smaller than Clay and me, stepped in. It was a big shower, but not really big enough for three.

"Up against the wall, mister," Clay demanded, doing a rather hokey imitation of a bull cop.
"Assume the position."

Evan laughed, spread his legs, and placed his hands against the tiled back wall of the stall.

Without a word, Clay and I went to work on him. We lathered his shoulders and back and rear, especially his rear. We squeezed shampoo into his wet hair and worked it into a thick mound of suds and he squirmed and laughed.

As Clay continued to massage Evan's head, I reached around him and found his cock. It was hard, pulsing, and as long if not as thick as Clay's. For a little guy, he was very well hung.

"Well, what do we have here?" I laughed.

"Turn the suspect around," Clay demanded, still in his bad cop voice. "I want to see the evidence."

I put my hands of Evan's shoulders and spun him around, not an easy feat in the tight space, the three of us laughing all the while.

"Carrying a weapon without a permit," Clay roared. "Add that to the charges."

"What kind of weapon is that, anyway?" I asked.

"A gun, mister, heavy artillery."

"Maybe a bludgeon," I laughed.

"Probably some kind of bomb."

"Or a rocket launcher," I suggested.

"Maybe a weapon of mass destruction," Clay countered, reaching out to stroke Evan's sudsy rod.

"Easy there," Evan warned.

"Yeah, the prisoner is right," Clay bemoaned. "We'd better take it easy, it's going to be a long night."

"We'd better get out and dry off, too," I added. "We're beginning to look like three Shar-Pei pups."

"Three very wet Shar-Peis," Evan agreed.

"Three very horny Shar-Peis," Clay added.

We squeezed out of the shower and toweled ourselves and each other. Then, still proudly naked, and proudly erect, we paraded off to the living room and, as if by some pre-arranged plan, sat down on Evan's long sofa. I was on the left, Clay on the right, and our host in the middle.

Clay and I put our arms along the back of the sofa, grasping each other's forearms behind Evan's head. I turned a little, and with my free hand, began to stroke first Evan's thigh, and then, reaching further over, Clay's.

Evan turned to me and we kissed deeply. His hand ran down over my chest until he was slowly stroking my hard cock. After a minute he ended the kiss and turned to Clay to give him the same welcome he'd given me. This slow, easy three-way kissing went on for several minutes but then, rather suddenly, as if he'd just remembered something which needed his immediate attention, Evan jumped up and went off the kitchen.

With Evan no longer between us, Clay and I slid toward each other.

Nature, and threesomes, abhor a vacuum.

We embraced and kissed again, Clay's talented tongue probing between my lips, then over my tongue, and finally as deep into my mouth as it would reach. I moaned at his invasion, thinking of what it might foretell, and hoping we got to that other form of invasion as soon as possible.

I'd learned at our first meeting that when I was with Clay there seemed to be lapses of time. I experienced one then. One moment we were sitting side by side on Evan's sofa, locked in each other's arms. The next, we were on the floor, writhing together on a beautiful and venerable Oriental carpet, our bodies intertwined and our mouths still locked together, and I had no memory of getting there.

"Hey," Evan chided as he returned from the kitchen, "don't go shooting spunk on my rug."
Clay and I let loose each other long enough to laugh and reach out to grab Evan's arms as he stood over us, pulling him down into our tangle.

The three of us squirmed and meshed, our naked bodies twisting together in a pretzel of joy and delight, like puppies playing, or kids in a happy romp. My lips went from Clay's to Evan's, my hands gently stroking backs and buttocks, not sure which was which, not caring, just enjoying and causing enjoyment.

We settled into a spontaneous, collective moan, a gentle hum, perhaps the cosmic Om. Our bodies pressed and our hands stroked, our mouths met and parted, met again. I felt a hand move slowly, seductively down my back and knew it must be Clay's. I knew he wanted my ass and I was completely prepared for him to claim it, remembering the things he'd said in San Francisco, things about claiming and belonging. Yes, I thought, I was ready for that.

The hand reached my rear and began to explore my crack. Fingers slid slowly over my hole, moved on and then were back again. One finger pressed in and I moaned, louder now, wanting more.

Evan broke away from me and rose up a little. He looked from Clay to me and smiled. "You two going to fuck?"

"Oh, yeah," Clay and I groaned together, one voice, one mind.

"Let's move this party to my bed," Evan said, wiggling out of our tangle and standing up. He extended hands to each of us and helped Clay and me to our feet. He was small, I was reminded, but strong.

In the left bedroom, down the short hall, at the end of the condo, Evan's bedroom was dimly lit and the bed covers already turned down. The bed was huge, big enough for the three of us with room to spare.

We were all three hard, I noticed, as I dived onto the bed and arranged myself on my back, centered on the wide expanse of the clean white sheet.

"Do you want me," Clay asked. His voice was gravely with lust.

"Yes," I moaned.

Clay stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at me. My legs and arms were spread, waiting for him. I'm sure I looked like da Vinci's Vitruvian Man.

Even sat on the side of the bed, looked up at Clay and then took my hand.

"Tell me."

"I want you, Clay."

"How?"

"I want you to fuck me, fuck my ass."

"You understand I'm going to claim you this time, totally claim you."

"Yes."

"And you want that?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain, John, absolutely certain?"

"Yes."

"What do you think, Evan? Should I fuck John's ass?"

"Yes, definitely," Evan said as I turned my head to look at him.

"What then?"

I looked from Evan to Clay and realized he was speaking to me.

"Then?"

"When I've fucked you, John, what then?"

"Then Evan."

"You want Evan to fuck you, too?"

"Yes, you then him, or the other way around. I want you both, want that sort of union you talked about."

"What do you say, Evan? Shall we give him what he wants?"

"Yes, but you first."

"Why me first?" Clay said. "You have seniority."

"That's true, but you go first."

"All right, then," Clay said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

He knelt on the foot of the bed, between my wide-spread legs, and moved up to get into position.

I lifted my legs, to rest them on his shoulders, and he took them, completing the process, all the while looking deeply into my eyes.

Evan moved at my side, opened the drawer of his bedside table, and passed Clay a big tub of lube. He only provided lubricant. There was no mention of condoms between us, and I'd already reconciled myself to that fact. These were powerful men and the sharing of their seed was a part of the ritual between them.

Clay flicked it open, squeezed a sizable glob onto his fingers and then worked them, first one, then two, then three, into my welcoming hole. He spread the excess over my crack and then squeezed more into the palm of his hand and spread it over his huge, throbbing cock. It pulsed and drooled as he finished and moved forward again, placing its broad head against my pucker.

"Ready?"

"Yes," I groaned as he breached me, waited, then slid slowly in.

Grasping my ankles and holding my legs back so far my feet almost touched the wall behind Evan's bed, he looked down into my eyes, deep into my eyes, and smiled.

"You're mine now, John, no going back."

"I don't want to go back."

"Evan, do you witness this?"

"Yes," Evan said, his own voice low and serious. "He belongs to you now, Clay. You've claimed him. Now mark him with your seed."

"He belongs to both of us, Evan." Clay whispered, "and we belong to him."

Slowly he began to move in me, thrusting, withdrawing, pressing deep into my gut, into the seat of my being. I felt, held and impaled like that, as if Clay's huge cock reached up into me, to my heart, my soul.

It was the old rite, the claiming, the making one. I knew they practiced such arts, such magic, and I knew my own magic would work on them, claiming them, just as Clay now claimed me.

We were destined, we three, to be part of a larger whole. But somehow, even then, I knew the circle was larger, that the three of us would not complete it. There was room for more, for other brothers, other comrades.

Clay was moving faster now, his hard, wet cock sliding in and out of me with greater speed and force.

Evan held my right hand, but with my left I reached for my desperately needy cock.

"No," Clay growled. "Don't touch yourself."

My left hand dropped to the sheet as another shudder passed along my spine. I knew Clay was close and my own climax was building.

Evan moved his free hand over my chest, found my left nipple, the most sensitive one, and pinched it hard, painfully. That was all it took.

Our bodies tensed. I felt the first hot gush of his seed into me, the planting of himself in my being.

"Yesssss," he hissed as he erupted in my bowels.

"Yes," I echoed, giving my consent.

My own body convulsed and volley after white volley shot over my head, then over my face and hair, then onto my chest.

Evan released my hand and moved his hand over my chest, collecting my sperm. He brought his dripping finger to my lips and I licked it clean.

Later, after we'd eaten and shared a bottle of wine, we returned to bed and the ritual was completed.

Evan fucked me. I fucked him. Then, still later, we each fucked Clay.

The circle was expanded.

"There are others," Clay explained. "You'll meet then in time."

"And always room for more," Evan added, stroking Clay's chest.

"Where does God come into this?" I asked, knowing they both valued the spiritual.

"He's in it all, in each of us, and in the joining, most powerfully in the joining," Evan said, his voice almost a chant.

"She's in it all, in each of us, and most powerfully in the joining," Clay responded, completing the incantation.

The end.