Flip and Trey Ch 04

Flip and Trey Ch 04

All four guys take the next step

This story is entirely fictional. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. References to past or present Broadway musicals are co-incidental. Many of the characters is this series will be familiar to those who have read one or more of the Flip series. But these stories are written to be stand-alone. © 2024, Brunosden. All rights reserved.

Dinner with Brent and Kirk was always something we looked forward to. The food, typically ordered in advance by Brent, was always good and different. Tonight we were doing Greek—from the little taverna about two blocks away.

When we arrived, Kirk and Brent had obviously just emerged from the shower—their hair was wet and there were a few droplets here and there. We knew shower sex was something they loved. They both looked spent and Brent was obviously holding some of Kirk inside. All four of us realized that only seconds before, we were being transported to the pleasures of heaven by our partners. "I guess there are no secrets among us, are there? We've all already had our appetizers!"

We moved into an easy conversation—a continuation of the updating stories of our experiences. Everything was casual. Old friends who knew each other well were just catching up after a time of satisfying sex.

Kirk brought us up to date on his video venture, already renewed for the next season. He talked about the prairie, the log cabins, the primitive life. While many of the background scenes had been shot in rural Minnesota, Kirk's "prairie" was actually inside a film studio on Long Island. And the log cabin had been created by set designers from very modern materials. He loved every nostalgic bit of it—even if Yellow-cabs and Ubers were rolling just outside the studio doors. This was the heritage of his family, making him wistful about earlier, simpler days.

But, then, with a totally straight face, he asked. "What do you think gay folks did then? Did they repress everything? Did they do it, but keep it quiet, in constant fear of being found out? I know we've come far in so few years. I don't think there were fewer gays 100s of years ago. But for thousands of years and still in many places, people with natural urges are persecuted. The level of societal self-denial was simply unimaginable."

"Don't get me started about how this still is in the south. It is really amazing how many folks think they have all the answers—and that they are channeling what they think is divine revelation. When it's really, "Just the way we've always done things." Those Evangelical Christians are so certain in their beliefs. To hear them speak, the number of divine appearances and revelations has exploded even with the decline in basic social manners and church-going. Anything that is different from the way they do things is unacceptable, sacrilegious, and should be illegal."

"We can't let them win." This was a conversation we had had before—and we knew we weren't going to resolve the issues in their living room.

To lighten things up a bit, Brent opened another bottle of white and poured liberal amounts in each glass. Then, he changed the subject. "We've secured the first show for the beta testing of the new lighting system. It's a new musical adaptation of Tom Jones...."

"Fuck, not Tom Jones," I shouted. "Don't you remember that was Michael's. It wasn't a musical—but it was his breakthrough in New York. His first non-gay role. And, fuck, what a non-gay role that turned out to be. I think he managed to strip a half dozen times and take four different women to bed in less than two hours. Given his subsequent history—and our past—that was probably the most difficult role he ever played."

Brent and Kirk began to laugh, deep belly laughs. They knew Michael well.

Trey was curious. "I've never met this Michael. Is he going to do this musical?"

"I haven't heard. In fact, I haven't heard from him in more than a year. I know he's been in New York, but we didn't even get together for a drink. I think he's definitely a Hollywood guy now."

Brent added, "I checked. Michael is not in the cast. It's a small production with a lot of new faces. And it has the right level of improv for our test. Give me a break, Flip. Don't you think I'd have told you if Michael were involved?"

Trey was not mollified, "So tell me about him."

"You really don't want to know. When you get below the surface beauty and physique, he's a real jerk. He can't keep his dick in his pants—even if his life depended on it. Incidentally, you've got a nicer dick. And you use it very well, thank you."

"But you saw something in him, didn't you?"

"Trey, that was a long time ago--BT."

Trey dropped the subject, but I could tell we weren't finished yet. We talked shop for awhile, and Kirk mentioned that he'd had a feeler about another revival—but they wouldn't even give him the title. But, he guessed it was South Pacific. "I told them to come back to me when they've got it mostly put together. I like doing TV, but it usually means that I've got eight or so months on my hands every year. I need something more." Throughout, I noticed that Brent was carefully watching all of Kirk's body language. Brent had told me before that he allowed Kirk to "roam" a bit on the set—but the TV drama, set on the prairie had not so far been fertile ground for him to plant. He was the only gay in the cast as far as he knew. Maybe he needed another shot at Broadway to find outlets for his "tension." I wondered how Brent felt about that.

It was getting late, and we could tell that Kirk and Brent had plans for a second act. So, we stood and thanked Brent for dinner—and the room. He led us to one of the guest rooms and I headed into the bath. Brent went to a dresser and pulled out a DVD. He handed it to Trey. "This will tell you everything you need to know about Michael." It was a collection of all of my porn flics—and more than half were with Michael.

As I came out of the bath, Brent was leaving, but I noticed the DVD in Trey's hand. "What's that?"

"Brent just handed this to me. Do you just want me to look through this? Or do you want to provide me with some background? I know I wasn't your first, Flip. But, I sure as hell want to be your last. You've never really told me anything about that part of your life. I don't think I'll ever understand Brent's attitude toward Kirk's extra-curricular activities."

"I know about Hanover and your Dad. And someday, I hope to meet your brother. But there's a whole part of Flip's life—more than a year—before you arrived in New York. Can we talk about it?"

"Only if I get to prove to you that you are my love, my only love, after I've finished.

I explained my arrival in Houston—disclosing for the first time really that I had two sisters, both still working in Houston. One is engaged, and the other is about to be.

"So you've got a big family—a brother and two sisters."

"Yeah, I'm number three in the lineup. The girls are older."

"And how about your Mom and Dad."

"Never met Mom. She left when I was two or three. I don't know where she lives, whether she's alone, or even whether she's still living. Dad raised us, but after she left, things started going downhill. My oldest sister took the brunt of the work and the abuse—until she finally left. My other sister followed two years later when my brother hit high school. Dad drinks. Sometimes a lot. We got beat up a lot. He started calling me a fag before I even knew the word—I can't imagine how he guessed. And my bro was his favorite, a womanizing jock with bedroom eyes and a wandering dick. I think Dad tried to visualize himself in Eddie. But, believe me, Dad wasn't even close. Eddie is the prize of the litter."

"And how about Houston?"

"One day, I just left. I had graduated from Tech and he was riding me every day. Once or twice I thought he was going to rape me. Once he caught me in the barn with three friends. We were doing a round-robin, high on drugs and booze. Dad just stood there screaming obscenities and chasing my friends off. I could tell he was high on something—and he was definitely hard. I knew what was coming. And I'm not into old fat guys—or incest. So I just left. Bunked with my sisters for a few days, got a job doing electric on some housing developments and started dancing at the Peacock."

"I got better at the dancing—and I learned to attract the tips from the patrons. Once or twice, I hooked a rich guy or a powerful guy. But mostly I had randy younger partners, often several a night."

"Then Marty decided he wanted to monetize me—so he set up some film trials. The first are on that DVD, I'm sure. I was an immediate hit, and made a few dozen more. My favorite partner was often Michael. Often there were threesomes. Once they even did an orgy—but those were really expensive to make. You know how those porn videos are made."

"Incidentally, that's not his real name, but it stuck. Michael had done drugs and was a professional escort and porn star. He had a great body, and he loved taking dick—the bigger the better. He was a real cum-dump. But, I fell for him. Months later we both escaped to New York, and you know the rest. I thought we were happily-ever-after guys until he got his break in Hollywood. It's what he always wanted. Including the variety and guys. He liked being a free agent, sampling the various offerings. Like so many others, he was on a constant quest for a bigger dick. I think he found one—hung on a married guy who rep-ed the big Middle Eastern entertainment money. I'm guessing they still get together from time to time. Michael could never resist a humongous cock on a real alpha. He loved both the size and the danger. Finally, I decided we didn't have a future. We were just too different. I kicked him out—and we've not talked since."

"Flip, your dick is big enough for me."

"And I prefer your strawberry curls to his blonde surfer look. And I'm totally addicted to that bubble butt!"

Trey popped the DVD in the player and watched one of the films—one of the first, when I'm playing the newbie. He reduced the sound and let it roll. "I don't think I like you as a blonde. When did that happen?"

"I started playing around with it in high school. The owner of Peacock really liked it. Thought it contrasted with my dark skin. Incidentally, your Mom hasn't said anything about that, has she?"

"Actually she did, but I told her that you were part Native American—and that your ancestors were here long before we arrived. She seemed satisfied."

"But, Flip, Michael could be my twin! Shit, if he gave his hair a bit of rose tint—or if I bleached mine, we could be twins. Am I just Michael to you?"

"Fuck, I knew this was going to happen. Trey, you and Michael are about as different as two people can be. Sure, you look a little alike—but all of us have types that turn us on. Believe me, you do. I like every bone in your body—particularly one, by the way. But, inside, you are so different. You are so fuckin' special to me, Trey."

"You know there's never been anyone else but you, Flip. You are my one and only. And I'm okay with that. It may be corny or out of step in a big city like this one. But, that's who I am."

And with those words, I drew him into a tight embrace and we started to kiss, our tongues dueling in search of depth. Our hands and legs began to move, trying to pull each other inside. We each needed the assurance of being wanted and loved. And we were both willing to give. I knew Trey needed to feel he was special to me, the only one, despite my experience. I looked into his eyes. There were tears. And then he reached up and brushed mine away as well. We were both bawling—in happiness.

"Don't ever worry about Michael, Trey. You are everything to me. Everything."

We rolled aside and Trey began to whisper about the testing that was being done on the lighting. "It works, Flip. It works. We're going to change the stage."

"I'm convinced we're going to save Daddy's business. Let's give it a few months, and then I'd like to start thinking about our future."

I could tell he was really happy. He had demonstrated self-worth, and he was going to please his Daddy—the ultimate objective of every southern boy.

I had heard the not-so-quietwhispering on Kirk and Brent's side of the wall separating our rooms and knew from the sounds that Kirk was definitely filling Brent—again--at that very moment. The whispers of "deeper", "harder", "Yeah, right there" were punctuating the otherwise pretty quiet night. I had been right. All the talk after dinner had stimulated him to perform. And, of course, he had. He couldn't wait to get Brent under him in bed.

Both Trey and I had gone silent. But both of us heard and were picturing the passionate coupling of our hosts on the other side of the wall.

It doesn't take much to turn me on when Trey is around—and when he's naked and lying beside me, well.....

"I don't know about a few months, but I can pretty much tell you what the next hour or so is going to hold. It's all about these fuckers." I rolled toward him and cupped his balls in my hand, rolled those hot fragile eggs between my fingers and bent down to take his dickhead between my lips. He relaxed back into the bed and spread. He was definitely open for business—my kind of business. As I licked the shaft, he hardened and started to push up from the sheets, leaking precum. Trey always provided plenty of lube—he would never be able to fool anybody. When he was aroused, he leaked. And leaked. He was ready. I straddled over him, pointing my ass toward the headboard, and began to really do that meat some justice.

Then I felt his tongue on my glans. Then in the slit. The hood had already drawn back and he was licking under to catch my essence. He pushed the shaft forward to my belly, moved a hand to my ass cheeks and drew me down onto him, swallowing the balls in turn as they reached his face. His tongue moved up, stroked the taint, ringed the rim and plunged. His lips locked on and he started to suck. Fuck! My shaft sprang up between us, as hard as it had ever been. Fuck! I loved being eaten. And this boy was a fuckin gourmet when it came to ass.

So I renewed my efforts on him. Soon we were tightly rolled, like one of the Oriental yin-yang balls, one organism, stimulating itself and writhing in passion, each part about to fill the other with shared, but complimentary, essence. Tongues were probing deep and fingers fondled the sacs. I could actually feel my little guys practicing the breast stroke, getting ready to race. All too soon, it would be over. The autonomic nerves were taking over. My gut muscles drew in tight. I wanted to stretch my legs to gain leverage, but we were so tightly wrapped, it was impossible. I spasmed. I pounded on the sheet, warning him that I was about to spunk. And he responded by doing the same, tapping my ass and then swallowing me deep into his throat. Our two fountains erupted simultaneously, each of us filling the other with the nectar of maleness, a veritable mass of tri-athlete swimmers diving into the ocean to begin one leg of the race. And just as suddenly we relaxed into each other, reveling in the musky, cum-scented aroma of young male sex. As we heard the applause and "well-done" from the adjoining room. Were we that loud?

Then I realized the DVD was still on—and Michael and I were in an intense 69 scene that, with various tricks and chemicals, had lasted nearly five minutes on screen. The real thing was so much better.

But, I did wonder if doing it with Trey while Kirk and Brent were similarly engaged—perhaps in the next bed—might be a real turn on and a very different experience. Maybe in the future. We'll have to see whether he's up for re-enacting some of the porn scenes. I think I'm gonna let him keep the DVD. Maybe he's still too vanilla for such a suggestion. (Or maybe strawberry?) Did I tell you that those were my two favorite flavors?

*****

Six months have passed....

"Eric" (Baby Phantom) opened to really good reviews. I was set for a year or more. Kirk was wrong. It wasn't "South Pacific" but rather a remake of "Music Man"—and he was cast in the music shyster's role. (That was going to really change the accepted images—from dark traveling salesman to Nordic blonde skier. But they had also "reversed" the female lead to a rising pop-star in the dark, calculating Madonna mold—she was going to have some difficulty projecting innocence. Kirk didn't stand a chance!) Both Kirk and I had signed on for one year contracts—through the end of the year. And Kirk had enough young members of his "marching band" who were gay to meet his need for "spice." Brent, of course, knew and let it happen. He knew it was just recreation and blowing off steam.

Maguire (really MS) had opened a marketing and tech support office in the Theatre District off Eighth Avenue, a staging and administrative facility in Jersey and had acquired a warehouse to do final marshalling of equipment and assembly across the Bridge. Several new September offerings were going to feature the "revolutionary" Maguire "smart lighting."

It was July and we were all headed out to Brent's place on the beach. Brent and Trey said they had a proposal, and they wanted us to have a few days to discuss it and maybe decide. None of us had cars, so Brent had rented an SUV which we filled with stuff and headed out early Monday morning—hoping to avoid the weekend traffic on the LIE. We were in great spirits. Everything seemed to be breaking our way. (And I think Kirk and I were expecting—well maybe not expecting, but at least hoping for--a proposal for an orgy, although we hadn't voiced our hopes with anyone. We had however been hinting for months.) We arrived around 11 to find that Brent had had the house cleaned, prepared and stocked. Lunch was salads, all ready to be served from the fridge. And the staff was gone. We would be alone in the house and on the secluded ocean-front terrace.

We went for a long walk on the nearly-deserted sandy beach—going in different directions. They mystery was growing in suspense. An hour or so later, all of us returned to eat, and decided to do so on the terrace facing the sea. Neither Brent nor Trey had hinted anything about the secret they shared. Here I thought Kirk and I were on the stage! But, Brent as a producer and Trey as a wily southern boy knew exactly how to maximize the drama leading to an announcement, and hopefully my climax!

We placed the salads on the table, adjusted the umbrella and sat. It was time. Neither Kirk nor I was going to say anything more until the "beans were spilled." We all started to pick casually at the salads.

Brent started. "Trey and I have been talking."

(That's ominous, I thought. The two schemers have cooked up something big—and it's probably not what Kirk and I have in mind. What had happened to those talks that I had had with Brent over the last months. Apparently, he had dumped me for Trey. But, fuck, who wouldn't? Trey was the grand prize!)

"We think it's time to have kids."

(Fuck. Kids? I thought we were in for an afternoon orgy. Kids?)

"Let us lay it out for you. We're all pretty set in our careers now. We want kids."

I turned to Kirk, "I thought we were laying out something else this afternoon?" He grinned, but he too was a little dismayed.

"How do you plan to make that happen with our schedules—and with all of us living in a coop where there are almost no kids at all."

"Other New Yorkers do it all the time."

"With two breadwinners? Two gay breadwinners apiece? Whose gonna be the Mommy? And very different schedules? Fuck, you and Trey work all day and we work all night. And I guess I need to mention that we're not married and we're gay—for fucks sake!"

"We've made time for sex. Lots of it. We can make time for kids." He paused to let it sink in, "But, maybe not in New York. Or maybe you guys are really not as in to us as we thought."