Mark's Birthday Present

I took a psychology course once and we studied human sexuality for a
couple of weeks. The professor said that almost no one is totally
straight or gay, most of us have elements of both, with only a few
people at the extremes, totally straight or gay. I figured I was one
of the rare guys at the end of the scale, with no gay tendencies at all.
And my best buddy Mark? He was at least twice as straight as me.

For Mark's twenty-fifth birthday, I wanted to do something really
special. He and I had given each other beer bashes and limousines and
strippers and trips to tropical party beaches, and all the macho male
fantasy stuff you can think of. We had done it all. I wanted this gift
to be something different, something he would remember. What was left?
Mark must have some hidden desire he'd never mentioned, but how to find
out without letting him know what I was up to?

For almost a year now Mark had been with Tracey, and it was looking
serious. Neither Mark nor I had ever been with one girl more than three
months before. And now they were talking about moving in together. I
knew it was only a matter of time before they started talking about
marriage, if they hadn't already.

So I figured if anyone would know what Mark really wanted but never told
even me, it would be Tracey. I asked her to meet me after work at a bar
in Soho that the three of us went to a lot. Mark was out of town, so
there was no risk he'd find out and get suspicious.

Tracey and I had a couple of drinks, and then a couple more, and talked
and joked until she finally said, "OK, Derek, what's this about? I
know you didn't ask me to meet you so you could hit on me. What's up?"

I had been waiting for her to ask that question. I liked Tracey a lot,
and was in no hurry to end our little date. Besides, I know enough
about women to know that they like a little mystery. And the suggestion
that a guy likes them - any guy - is never unwelcome.

"OK," I said. "I was enjoying being with you, just the two of us, but I
guess it's time to get to the point."

She looked intrigued. I told her about my dilemma. I was Mark's best
friend, and had known him since the two of us were kids, but I couldn't
think of anything really different to get him for his birthday.

When I finished explaining my problem - and I took about ten minutes to
do it, because I wanted Tracey to know that I had really thought about
it a lot, and eliminated a lot of ideas - Tracey said nothing for a
couple of minutes, just kept looking back and forth from me to her drink
to the bar, to the wall, to me, to her drink. I knew better than to
hurry her, so I nursed my own drink and waited. It looked like she knew
something, at least.

But what she said totally floored me.

"OK, I guess you can tell I have something in mind."

I nodded. After it had taken her this long to say something, I figured
it was best not to interrupt.

"And you know Mark and I are pretty serious about each other."

I nodded again. This was starting to sound weird. Was she going to
suggest I hire a couple of hookers and give Mark another three-way with
two babes at once?

"OK, well here goes. Boy, I can't believe I'm telling you this, you are
not going to believe me and I am going to regret it for the rest of my
life. But OK." She paused. I waited. "What Mark wants more than
anything else is for you and me and him to have a three-way."

There was almost nothing Tracey could have said to me that night that
would have shocked me the way that did. My jaw probably dropped open. I
couldn't think of anything to say. I was sure it was some kind of weird
joke, but Tracey wasn't the type to make jokes like that. Mark, yeah,
he loved to make jokes about him and me being lovers, and we should get
married and live together, we were the perfect couple, we knew
everything about each other and didn't care about the toilet lid or the
fucking toothpaste. I had heard that routine a hundred times. Then it
occurred to me that Tracey simply hadn't known Mark long enough, she'd
heard him say that, and took it seriously. I sighed with relief, and
tried to think of a way to tell her that without sounding condescending
or patronizing. Maybe I had made a mistake asking her at all.

"You're thinking 'She doesn't know Mark well enough,' right?" Tracey
interrupted my desperate search for the right words.

I nodded.

"You're thinking 'I shouldn't have asked her, she doesn't understand his
sense of humor,' right?"

I nodded.

She shrugged and said "I don't know what to say, Derek, but it's true,
that's Mark's secret fantasy. He told me a couple of weeks ago, and he
wasn't joking or playing some stupid trick. He told me you and he have
been best friends since you were little kids, and ever since you were
teenagers he's wanted to share a girl with you but he's been afraid to
say anything about it because you're such a total macho stud and you'd
get the wrong idea."

My head was spinning - Mark thought I was a total macho stud? He was
afraid I would get the wrong idea? This had to be some sort of
misunderstanding. I would do almost anything for my best friend, but I
couldn't... He wouldn't... I couldn't. I was still convinced Tracey
had it wrong. Or this was just a joke, and as soon as I acted like I
was buying it she would laugh and say "Psych!"

Then Tracey reached across the table and took my hand. "Never mind,
Derek, it's ok. I shouldn't have told you. He told me it was private.
I just got carried away, the alcohol."

I stared at her dumbly. I guess I looked more upset than I really was,
though, because she shook her head, and started to cry.

"Oh shit! I've ruined everything, you'll hate Mark and he'll never
forgive me!"

Tracey got up and grabbed her purse and before I could say anything she
had run out.

That convinced me. She wasn't kidding. Mark had really told her he
wanted the three of us to have sex together. I knew I should run after
Tracey and calm her down, reassure her it was all right, but I was too
confused to think. I didn't want to think. I tried not to think about
what she had said, what that really meant. I ordered another drink and
swallowed it quickly and ordered another.

What had Tracey meant? Did Mark want me to have sex with Tracey while
he watched? We had done that, we had shared a girl and watched each
other, but not someone either of us cared about.

I had liked it, actually, watching Mark fuck a hot chick, but not
because I was looking at him, it was the chick and I was horny and it
was ok, all right? But it wouldn't be right for me to have sex with
Tracey - she was special, even I could see that.

The other possibility was just too weird - Did she mean Mark wanted him
and me to have sex somehow? That was impossible. Not Mark. Not Mark
and me.

OK, there had been that time at summer camp, when we had snuck off one
night together to go skinny-dipping in the cove, and somehow we had
wound up trading blow jobs. OK, a couple of times. But we just did it
to prove we could beat the system, we were having fun breaking the
rules, campers weren't supposed to go outside their cabins after lights
out. We were just kids, sixteen, maybe. Horny as bulls because we
were stuck at this stupid all-boys camp for two weeks.

I tried to remember whose idea it had been, the first time. Mark had
always been the instigator of our adventures, I the willing accomplice.
He was just better at dreaming things up. So it was probably he who had
suggested we sneak out and go skinny-dipping. Not a big deal, really,
we had done much crazier, more dangerous things. Then after we swam, we
were sitting on a log drying off and Mark put his arm around me, buddy-
like, we always had our arms around each other, we were best friends, no
harm in that. And maybe I put my hand on his thigh. And sure, we both
had hardons, we were a couple of horny teenagers. So then one of us put
his hand on the other's hard cock, and one thing led to another and
pretty soon Mark was on his knees in front of me, sucking my cock.

I fell back in my chair, my head reeling. I had avoided thinking about
it, but now I remembered. Mark had been the first one. He had reached
out and taken my hard cock in his hand. He had sucked me first. He had
swallowed my cum and then said, OK, now you do me. And I had done it
because he told me to, he dared me to follow his lead, the way he always
did. I had gone along the way I always went along with Mark, doing
every crazy thing he suggested because it was always fun, if not at the
exact moment it happened, then afterwards, when he told everybody about
it. His stories about our adventures were more fun than the adventures
themselves. Hearing Mark tell someone about one of our exploits was
better than being there, he always made us sound like such heroes.
Everything we did took on heroic proportions when Mark told it.

But what about the other nights at camp that year? How many had there
been? The first time had been the first night, I remembered now. It
was the night of our first day at camp. Our counselor spent half an
hour before lights-out telling us the rules, and emphasizing that we
were not allowed out of our cabins after lights out. One kid asked
What if I have to go to the bathroom, and someone called out Wet your
bed! And the counselor said No, of course not, if you need to go to the
bathroom, that's ok, go ahead, the latrine is ok, but anything else is
off limits. Then Mark leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Meet me at
the latrine fifteen minutes after lights out," and I grinned and thought
"Good old Mark, he'll get us in trouble for sure," but I did it, I met
him, and followed him to the cove he had located earlier in the day, and
swam nude with him, and sucked his huge rock-hard dick after he sucked
mine, swallowed his warm salty cum because he swallowed mine and he said
it made us brothers, it bound us together for life.

And when Mark leaned over to me as we sat together in the evening
vespers ceremony the next night and said "Meet me at the cove after
lights out," I did it. And when he grabbed me and kissed me as we stood
together in the water, I kissed him back. I sucked his cock again, that
night and every night we were at camp that year. And each night I swore
an oath, never to tell anyone else what we had shared, a sacred trust, a
bond between us, we were brothers.

I shook my head, the alcohol I had drunk making me dizzy. I hadn't
eaten yet. I got up and grabbed my coat. Our waitress was at the bar
and I stuffed way too much money in her hand and plunged out.

The three of us. It was always the three of us. I dated occasionally,
and told myself I liked girls, fucked one once a week or so, but I never
stayed with one for more than a month or two. Mark and I had always
done everything together. And then Mark had found Tracey, and I liked
her, she fit in, it had seemed wrong to introduce a stranger to our
little trio. If I found the right girl, of course, then we would be a
foursome. A quartet.

I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, so I wound up at the
Italian place in The Village where Tracey and I had planned to eat. I
looked at my watch - our reservation had been for 7:30, it was 8:00.
They wouldn't hold it that long. Maybe I could eat at the bar. I was
pretty drunk. I should eat something. I went in.

The hostess smiled when she saw me. "Good evening Mr. Andrews. Miss
Bradley has already ordered, she said you would be late. Follow me,
please." I followed her docilely to the table where Tracey was sitting.
She was eating her salad. She looked up as I approached, not smiling,
not frowning, just looking at me.

"May I sit down?" I asked. I hadn't realized until that moment how
shaken I was. Nothing I had taken for granted a few hours earlier seemed
meaningful any more.

"Stop that," Tracey scolded. "I was afraid you'd gotten run over or
something. Sit down and eat, you need to eat something after all we
drank. I don't know why I drank so much. Sit down!"

I sank into the chair opposite her and ordered something from the waiter
and looked at Tracey. She seemed a complete stranger, I had no idea
what to say to her now. She was eating her salad, she was very intent
on her salad. She looked at me every bite or two, but mainly she was
very busy with her fucking salad.

"Did Mark tell you about camp?" I asked. It was all I could think
about. It seemed like the only thing that had ever happened between him
and me.

Tracey nodded, then ate more of her salad.

I leaned towards her so I wouldn't have to shout. The restaurant wasn't
that noisy usually, but it was Friday, the place was packed, it was too
loud to talk in a normal tone of voice. I glared at her and shouted.
"He made me promise I would NEVER tell anyone! WE would never tell
anyone!" She didn't say anything, so I sank back in my chair. I
realized how mad I was.

My own salad arrived, and I ate it. We continued to eat, saying
nothing. I felt betrayed. Mark had Tracey, they were going to get
married. Would the three of us continue to do things together? What
about when they had kids, Mark had always wanted kids, lots of them.
Would I be Uncle Derek, invited over for holidays and special outings?
What was going to happen to me?

We finished eating, saying nothing. We split the bill, as agreed.

When we got outside Tracey grabbed my arm and said "You're coming to my
place. We have to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, trying to pull away.

"Derek!" Tracey shook my arm. "Please! I'm sorry, I should never have
told you that. It changes nothing. Give me a chance. Please?"

I gave in. What difference did it make? I felt like my whole life had
been a lie. I didn't know Mark. Or Tracey. Or even myself.

At Tracey's apartment she let us in, then went to the kitchen to make
coffee. I sat on the couch and watched the news. There was a war
somewhere. There had been a tornado somewhere. Someone had been shot.
Tracey came back and handed me a cup of coffee. It was too hot to
drink, so I held it, enjoying the warmth in my hands. Tracey sat beside
me.

"Derek, please don't shut me out like this. What's wrong? I know Mark
told me something he promised he wouldn't ever tell, but that was when
you were boys. You're men now. He and I are going to be married."

I looked at her. I knew he hadn't proposed yet. Or did I?

"No, he hasn't proposed. But he will. We love each other, Derek. And
we love you. Mark loves you. And I love you. So you and he fooled
around once ten years ago. So what?"

"Not just once. Every night. We were there for two weeks. We went to
the cove every night, and we had sex with each other every night. We
kissed. It wasn't just sex. We made love. I knew that I loved Mark
more than anyone else on earth, that he was the only one I would ever
love. And the last night he said we could never do it again, and we
must never talk about it, and we must never tell anyone."

I started crying half way through my speech. I had never even said
these things to myself. I had lived for ten years hoping that someday
Mark would want me again, want me that way again.

Tracey sat next to me on the couch and held me as I sobbed. Eventually
I was able to stop. I hadn't cried that way since I was a kid. I
didn't know I could. I felt like such a fool. What had I been doing
for the last ten years, wanting Mark, not even letting myself admit it,
waiting for someone who would never want me, could never want me?
Eventually I stopped crying.

When I could talk again I asked the question that was now burning in my
mind. "Why did you say that? About the three of us? Did he say he
wants that?"

I was sure he hadn't really said it that way, he'd been joking, she had
made some feminine, intuitive leap, assumed he wanted it because a woman
who said whatever he said would want that, and she wanted to please him.
She didn't know what really happened between us, she just took his word,
heard the Mark version, the idealized version, sanitized for her
protection.

"He said he's afraid you'll never leave him, never have the life you
could have, because you'll keep waiting for him. He said he loves you,
but he doesn't know how to tell you he can't be with you that way. He
says he can't live that life."

I'm sure I looked totally stunned, I was having a hard time processing
what Stacey was saying. More leaps of feminine intuition. Couldn't be
true. She paused, then went on.

"He loves you, Derek. The same way you love him. He just thinks he has
to be so fucking strong for the two of you, set a good example. He
wants you too. I'm just what he thinks he should want. He wants you.
God you men make me so mad! So full of your macho bullshit, so afraid
to admit what you feel!"

Tracey looked like she was about to cry again, and I reached out and
rubbed her shoulder. She pressed her lips together, then continued.

"So when you asked what Mark wanted more than anything else, I wanted to
say YOU! But instead I said - what I said. I had some ridiculous idea
the three of us could set up house and raise a family. Mark would sleep
with me during the first and third weeks of each month, and with you the
second and fourth, and with both of us in whatever was left over. Or
maybe you and I would sleep together the rest of the time. So our
children could call both of you Daddy. Oh Damn! It was a stupid idea.
I'm sorry, I was drunk, you know I can't drink."

We sat for a while longer, and I finally got up to go.

"Stay here, Derek," Tracey said. "It's late. You're too drunk to go
out. Sleep on the couch. We'll talk in the morning. This will all
seem clearer in the morning. Please?"

"OK," I said, lacking the energy to argue. I knew nothing would be
clearer, nothing would ever be clear again. She gave me a blanket and I
curled up on the couch and fell asleep right away.

I woke the next morning feeling disoriented until I realized where I
was. I had been dreaming about Mark and me, we were on a road trip, the
trip we had been promising each other we would take for at least ten
years, a trip across the country on Route 66, to see the Real America.
But in the dream everything kept going wrong. We ran out of gas and the
filling station turned out to be a hospital but they didn't accept
people like us and we had to get back in the car and drive to a town
where we were supposed to stay but when we got there my mother appeared
and told me Mark was a bad influence and Mark disappeared and I tried to
find him but he was way off in the distance and when I tried to run to
catch him I couldn't move, I was stuck, and then Tracey was singing
something, not talking but singing, only the words made no sense.

Once I figured out where I was I realized Tracey really was singing. She
was in the bedroom, and the door was ajar. I could smell coffee, so she
must have been up for a while. I listened to her singing. She had a
nice voice, a sweet low voice, simple, unaffected. I had no idea she
could sing like that. Mark must know. What would it be like to wake up
every morning and hear your wife singing like that? I would never know.

I remembered what she had said last night about the three of us living
together. If we did that, I would hear her sing every morning. Assuming
she sang every morning. Maybe she only sang when she was happy. Or on
Saturdays. If we lived together, I would know things like that about
her.

I got up and folded the blanket she had tucked around me the night
before, then put on my shoes and left, making sure the latch was set as
I closed the door.

I'm not very good at dealing with emotional issues, and Yeah, that's
probably one reason I'm still single at twenty-five, thanks for pointing
that out. So I went home from Tracey's and took a shower and went back
to bed for a couple of hours. When I got up there was a message from
Tracey, she sounded like she was worried but trying to hide it, and I
realized it had been shitty of me to just sneak out without saying
anything so I called her back and said I was sorry, and Yeah, I was
fine, I just needed time to digest it all. Then I got up and did what I
do on Saturdays. I worked out for a couple of hours, did a couple of
loads of laundry, rented a video, bought some groceries, ate, then sat
down in front of the TV with a beer to watch the movie I had rented. It
was one I had seen before, an action-adventure flick I knew would
deliver mindless satisfaction, lots of car chases and explosions, and
just enough plot to hold it all together.

Half way through the movie the door bell rang and I paused the tape and
got up. It was Mark. I said Hi, come in, tossed him a beer on my way
back to the couch, and resumed play on the video. He sat in his usual
place, at the other end of the couch, took a couple of swigs of his
beer, then when there was a break in the action he said "Tracey's been
worried about you. You shouldn't have just walked out like that." I
glanced over at him. He was watching the screen.

"Yeah, so I guess she told you about what happened."

"Of course, she and I don't keep secrets."

"So I gathered."

"Look, Derek, it was ten years ago, I thought we'd both moved on. It
was kid stuff. I told her because, well I don't know, it just seemed
right at the time. It's not like we're fags or anything."

"Right."

We watched the film for a while until I got up the courage to ask the
question that had been burning in my mind ever since last night when
Tracey first made her "suggestion."

"Did she tell you her idea for my gift for your twenty-fifth next
month?"

"No, what do you mean?"

"She didn't tell you how the topic of our 'kid stuff' came up?"

"She said the two of you were having some drinks and one thing led to
another and she just let it slip out."

"Ah, so the 'full disclosure' has its limits."

"Cut the shit, dude. What are you talking about?"

"Call Tracey and ask her."

"No, you tell me."

"If she didn't tell you, I'm not about to. Forget it." I finished my
beer and got another. I was planning to get good and drunk again.

We sat watching the movie for a while longer, then Mark got up and went
to the phone and dialed. I could tell from his tone of voice he was
talking to Tracey, but couldn't hear everything he said. A couple of
times he raised his voice though. Once he said "No way! Bullshit!" And
another time he said "Jesus! No way!" So it sounded like she had told
him something he wasn't too happy about. He got another beer and came
back and sat on a chair facing me.

"She told me you asked what to give me for my birthday and she suggested
a three-way. Me and you and her. Tell me she's bullshitting."

"She's bullshitting."

"Now tell me for real."

"She said it."

"Shit."

We sat for awhile longer, both drank a couple more beers. Finally Mark
asked the question I'd been expecting. "Are you queer, Derek?"

"I don't think so. Are you?"

"Don't bullshit me man, what's this all about? She said you're in love
with me. She said that stuff we did at camp meant something special to
you."

"It did. I guess I am. In love with you, I mean. But I'm not queer. I
don't think I am, I don't want anyone else, just you."

"So if I said I'd go along with this three-way, you'd do it?"

"No. I mean, well, is that really what you want? Why did she suggest
that? Are you two just running some head trip on me? Or what?"

"Shit. OK. One night when she and were talking I did say that. I told
her I liked both of you and if I ever did it with a guy again it would
have to be you."

"And that's all?"

"Well, maybe I put it a little stronger than that."

I waited.

"OK, I said I had this fantasy of the three of us. I said I wanted us
to have a three-way."

"You did?"

"I did."

"And that would be OK, you and I could have sex with each other again,
as long as Tracey was there to keep it from being queer."

"Something like that."

"So it would be OK for me to fuck Tracey as long as you were there?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I mean if she said it was OK, of course."

"Of course. And it would be OK for us to suck each other's cocks,
because she would be there."

"Yeah. Sure. We did it that other time."

"Those other times, buddy. We did it every night. For two weeks. And
the last two nights we fucked each other. I shoved my cock up your
tight little ass and fucked you so hard your eyes popped out and you
screamed like a little girl and begged me to do it harder. If I hadn't
put my hand over your mouth to muffle you the whole camp would have been
there to watch. You said my cock up your ass was the most incredibly
sexy thing you'd ever felt. You said you wanted it to go on forever.
You shot your load just from the feeling of my big fat dick up your ass
and said it was the best orgasm you ever had."

"OK, you're right. It felt pretty good."

"But you've never thought about it since then."

Mark put his hands over his face and bent forward like he did when he
was having trouble telling the truth. I waited.

"I think about it all the time. I can't forget how awesome it felt to
suck your cock and have you suck mine and to have your huge dick up my
ass. I never trusted a girl enough to tell her what I wanted until now,
but I had Tracey buy a rubber cock and sometimes she shoves it up my ass
while we're fucking and I shot so hard I feel like I'm dying." He
looked up at me, then looked away again. "But I keep wondering what it
would feel like if it was your cock, not a piece of rubber."

I couldn't believe my super-jock macho stud buddy Mark was saying he
wanted me to fuck him. My cock had gotten hard as he described having
Tracey shove a dildo up his ass, and the thought of him under me, my
cock inside him, made it start to throb and ooze. I reached down and
adjusted myself. I was wearing just my sweats, nothing underneath, so
it was pretty obvious.

"You too," Mark said, and I looked up to see him looking at my crotch,
his hand in his own crotch, his big tool clearly outlined through his
levis. He never wore underwear, said it was too confining.

I thought "What the fuck, it's over between us, why not go for it while
I can?"

I got up and walked over to Mark's chair. I pushed my sweats down to
free my rock-hard dick and stood there in front of him. I straddled his
legs so the tip of my cock was just a few inches from his lips. He
looked at my cock, then up at my face, then at my cock again. He pulled
his own cock out and started stroking it. The huge purple head of his
fuck tool was glistening as sex juice oozed from the tip. My own cock
was oozing so hard that a big drop started falling, and I watched it
slowly descend, connected by a long string of clear sticky fluid to my
cock, until it came to rest on Mark's hand, the one that was stroking
his own erection. Mark leaned forward and licked the tip of my cock,
lapping up my fuck juice. It felt incredible. My knees felt weak. My
buddy licked my cock some more, running his tongue up the under side,
then licking the tip to get more of my juice, which was oozing fast.

"Stop teasing me," I said. "Suck it. Suck my cock."

Mark looked up at me, then opened his mouth and slowly engulfed the head
and about two inches of my erection, then closed his lips and sucked
gently. I shoved my hips forward to push more of it into his mouth, but
he wrapped his hand around my cock to control it. I gasped in
frustration, and he made a noise, sort of unh-unh, telling me not to
rush it. I gave in and let him take his time.

I hadn't jerked off since Thursday night so I was incredibly horny, and
so turned on from his description of having Tracey fuck him with the
dildo that I could feel my orgasm building quickly. When I'm that horny
I usually let myself cum real quick, then wait a few minutes and get
hard again, and take my time cumming the second time. My balls were
churning and my cock was throbbing. I was getting close. Mark had
taken more of my cock into his mouth and was really getting into it now.

I remembered ten years earlier, how Mark had loved sucking my cock, and
said he wanted me to like it, and made me tell him exactly what felt
good. I could tell he remembered it all. He was still holding my cock
with one hand to keep me from shoving the whole nine inches down this
throat all at once and fucking his face, and the other hand was in
between my legs, playing with my balls, tugging and squeezing them, and
now and then he'd poke a finger into the crack of my ass and tease my
hole.

I grunted wordlessly, my orgasm real close. I put my hands on Mark's
head, torn between pushing him off so I wouldn't cum in his mouth and
grabbing his head to jam my cock in even farther.

"Ungh! Gonna cum!" I growled.

Mark pushed my hands away and kept sucking my cock. He had most of it
down his throat now, and was giving me the blow job of a lifetime. My
legs were shaking and my balls were churning and my abs were quivering.
I felt a huge load of cum building.

"Ungh! Yeah! Cumming!" My cock erupted.

Mark kept sucking, swallowing on the head as I pumped a huge load of cum
into his throat. I couldn't understand how he was breathing, but I
didn't care, I was out of control and cumming so hard I nearly fainted.