Brick by Brick (30 page)

Later I learned he’d thought I wouldn’t. My inability to use four-letter and coarse words had led him to believe I objected on moral or religious grounds and might even be a virgin. He wasn’t going to be my first unless he was sure he loved me, and vice versa. While his assumption was ridiculous and wrong, it was also sweet.

When he’d told me he loved me, and learned I loved him too, we’d abandoned our wine on the patio, just gotten up as one and gone straight to his bedroom, where the lovemaking was sweeter and much longer for having been delayed. The sex was new and we were young, able to complete the cycle of arousal, sex, and nap many times in a single night.

Gage’s soft gagging pulled me out of my reverie.

“Careful,” Jamie said softly.

Gage continued, but within a minute, he was half retching, apparently pushing in even farther.

“Not so deep,” Jamie said. “Jesus.”

Gage sat up, his pink bottom on his heels. “But you love it. And I love you,” he said, as if that explained it. “And Natalie.”

“And I love you, and Natalie, which is why I’d just as soon you didn’t choke yourself to death on my cock. Wrap your hand around the base, and move it with your mouth.”

“Okay.” He bent again, his backside toward me.

“That’s right,” Jamie said, “just like that. Join in, Natalie, any way you can. If you want. Which I hope you do.”

There weren’t many opportunities, but a good one stared me in the face. I gently spread Gage’s buttocks wide, not sure I could do this.

The smell of soap wafted into my nostrils, and I remembered he’d arrived just showered. Still I hesitated, studying him.

His cleft wasn’t pink or amber but a pretty gray that darkened abruptly and became browner in a ring around his tiny anus, where he was such a deep sable as to be nearly black. Ebony black hairs surrounded it in a feathery ring but didn’t obscure the view.

He’d eaten mine, and it couldn’t possibly be as pretty. I kissed him chastely, with closed lips. His pleasure noise, muffled by Jamie’s penis, was unmistakable, and he tilted himself upward, asking for more.

I gave it to him. The little dry kisses became moist ones, then included just the tip of my tongue, and finally became flat-out lapping as his tight little rosebud eased, then eased some more.

Something should go in there, of course. “It’s time,” I said.

“Hmm?” Gage asked.

“Time for Gage to sit on Jamie’s big hard cock.”

“Natalie!” my husband said.

“You know it makes you hot for her to talk dirty,” Gage said. “Me too. Tell us more.”

I licked his anus again. “You’re so wet, and he’s so hard. He doesn’t have to move to stick it way up your asshole.”

Gage was already straddling the extended chair, his back to Jamie, their knees aligned. “I think I need your hands, Natalie. For balance. And yours for aim,” he added to Jamie, handing him a condom.

I took both Gage’s wrists and he grasped mine as Jamie rolled the condom down over himself. Although Gage was taking my husband inside his body, it was my eyes he looked into with love. I could tell when they made contact, and when at least some penetration occurred.

“Ow,” Jamie said.

“Stop! Are you all right, Jamie?” My heart hammered.

“Fine. He’s not wet enough, and it pulls. Nat, could you get us something?”

“If she lets go of my hands, I’ll fall.”

“Right onto my cock,” Jamie said. “Which might be okay. Here, let me…” He licked his own hand and applied the saliva, twice. “Let yourself fall. Quick, before it dries.”

And before anyone had time to think. Gage let go of my wrists and reached below himself, spreading his cheeks, precariously balanced over Jamie and the recliner.

He dropped a few inches, with a pained grunt.

“Jesus!” Jamie’s voice was way too loud. “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to slide all the way down the banister.”

I laughed, but Gage didn’t. His face remained twisted, eyes squinched tightly closed.

“Easy, easy. I know it hurts,” Jamie crooned, “and you know if you ride it out, it’ll stop hurting and start feeling really good. Can you hang on until then?”

“Yes.” Gage’s face had reddened, and his mouth was as tight as his voice.

I reached for Gage’s wilting penis. “Before we fell asleep in the yard,” I said to my husband, “Gage told me he loves me as much as he loves you.”

“He’s said he loves us both, lots of times.”

“I know, but this time I believed him.” It was so pretty, fat and rosy brown even semisoft. I stroked it with one finger. He watched my hand on his shaft through eyes opened to narrow slits. I did it again.

“Yeah. It’s always been true.” Gage sounded less pained already. “What blew me away is she loves me back.” He watched me trace the thick vein, already popping, with one finger, as if he’d never seen anything so amazing as his body’s response to sexual contact.

“I thought she might,” Jamie said. “She falls slower than me. Has to analyze everything first. How you doing, better?”

“Better. Good. I love your cock in me.”

“I do too,” I said. “In me, I mean.”

“Whose, mine?” Jamie asked. “Say it, babe.”

I grinned. “Either one. You going to fuck his ass or talk?”

“Neither,” Gage said. “He’s not going to do a thing. I’m going to fuck him
with
my ass.”

“Oh, pardon me, Mr. Technicality.” Jamie grinned as he teased.

I laughed.

“What?” Gage said. “You don’t think I can?”

“No, no. It’s that James is going to get off on a technicality.”

They laughed briefly as Gage rearranged his legs while Jamie helped him balance, one hand firm on his back, the other ready to break the fall that looked certain.

It didn’t happen. Gage, still impaled on Jamie’s penis, held his weight easily on thighs which in turn sat on the recliner’s upholstered arms. His toes just met the rug.

He was strong, and lean. The muscles in his thighs moved in small bunches as he raised himself a few inches, and different muscles strained to control the lowering. His motions reminded me of a jockey astride a galloping horse.

Jamie lay still except for his hands on Gage. “God, if you could see this,” James said.

“Let me see.” I bent close to watch.

Without lubrication, Jamie’s shaft wasn’t slithering in and out of Gage’s body but was tugging it, pushing the sable skin inside, then pulling it out, until a vividly pink ribbon of Gage’s inverted rectum showed for an instant. He probably wasn’t moving more than two inches, but the result was intimate and trusting in a new way.

“That doesn’t hurt?”

“Feels good, so long as I don’t go too far. Good for you, Jamie?”

“Real good.”

I returned to the front, studying the set-up for a way to take Gage in my mouth, but I couldn’t see any that didn’t involve breaking either my back or my neck. I circled him with my hand instead, and his eyes opened wider, warm on me, loving.

As Gage varied the speed at which he rode, I kept up easily. He was excited, making wordless, soft sounds in his throat. He might come before Jamie, who was slack-mouthed, watching Gage’s anus turn itself inside out repeatedly, but hadn’t made a sound.

Something creaked, the extended sound old horror movies use for a heavy door slowly opening for the first time in centuries. “What’s that?”

“Ghosts,” Gage said.

“Who cares?” Jamie answered. “We’ll check it out later.”

Gage pulled himself up high, showing the widest band of pink yet.

The crack of wood snapping was familiar.

“Don’t move, Gage.” Jamie’s voice was stern and bossy. And strained.

“It hurts.” His tone was plaintive. “Just take it out.”

“It hurts me too. You’re only a half inch away from two big pointed wood screws. Natalie, help him up. He’s got to go straight up, first try.”

Gage’s pain had squinted his eyes and mouth tight. I grabbed his wrists again, and he took mine. “Straight up,” I said and stepped backward and squatted low, to take his weight. He flinched and made a guttural noise as James’s penis left him; then he was clear, reeling for an instant before finding his balance. When I released his hands, one flew to comfort his anus.

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so. I just tightened up automatically. Real tight.”

“Tell me about it,” James said, zipping up. “Damn near pinched me off.”

“Sorry. Let’s get you out of the chair.”

Between us, Gage and I helped James to his feet without scraping the screws that had held the La-Z-Boy’s arms in place, along with joints and glue.

James was first to point at the chair and laugh. He managed to gasp, “We fucked it to death!”

The upholstered arms waved at crazy angles, with daggerlike screws and ripped fabric protruding.

“First your bed, now your chair.” Gage shrugged. “What else needs replacing?”

Laughing so hard clearly pained my husband, but it was infectious, so much so that all three of us were weak and teary with it. We helped one another to the bedroom.

James started undressing immediately, but stopped, his head enveloped in his T-shirt. “Help.”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Just pull it off me. It hurts to raise that arm. Fucked up my shoulder. They x-rayed it. It’s nothing.”

Gage stepped in, gentle and efficient, removing the shirt without touching James’s face, then helped James out of his athletic shoes, socks, and finally his Levi’s. He deftly flipped the condom that came with the underwear into the wastebasket.

“Man, you got beat to hell, didn’t you?” Bruises showed exactly where the seat belt had contained him. Many were bloodred under the skin, a few purple-black.

“Yeah. I hurt all over, not just my head.”

“Take the pain meds,” I said.

“No.”

“Just at night,” Gage added. “Sleep through the doped-up part.”

“Toughing out pain doesn’t impress us, Jamie. Gage and I know what a real man you are, okay? Take the damned pills.”

He did. We slept snuggled as close and comfortably as puppies in a basket.

I woke at James’s usual time, though he slept on. I found a robe and paused at the foot of the big bed, where the men had separated in sleep, each sprawled on his back, snoring lightly. No wonder I’d woken.

Silently, I padded to the kitchen to make waffles again.

Chapter Forty

Shortly after five that afternoon, James’s mother came over with dinner and Daniel; there would be no rivalry on this visit.

I served iced tea while James told her what had happened beyond the minimal information he’d given her on the phone.

“I’m so glad you’re all right. I was worried sick. ‘Mom, I wrecked the truck, but I’m fine. Just thought you should know.’ Click!” She shook her head.

“I only know what they tell me,” James said.

“I only know what I can see, which is your poor face. I’m just relieved you have Natalie and your friend to take care of you.”

“Gage Strickland. Pleased to meet you.” He thrust his hand toward her, shook, then did the same to Daniel, who neither said his own name nor masked his disapproval.

Of what? I sighed internally. Everything. If James did it, Daniel frowned on it.

His mother kept her expression pleasant while her son explained that Gage had been with us nearly every day for a couple of months now, and that all three of us seemed very happy with the arrangement.

“I’m glad you’re all getting along,” she said, “but, honey, you know your brother would have loaned you something, if you’re spread so thin you need to take on a roommate to make ends meet.”

“We’re not running a boardinghouse, Mom. He doesn’t have to pay us anything, just replace the stuff he breaks.” He patted the arms of the stylish Scandinavian leather chair, only a few hours old and still richly fragrant.

Gage gnawed his lower lip.

“Oh, you’re helping out a friend who needs a place.”

“He could buy this house without feeling it. He’s here, with us, because of the way we feel about each other.” James paused, looking at her frankly, deliberately excluding Daniel, who sat scowling.

Although their twinship was fraternal and their resemblance slight at best, the lightning bolt between Daniel’s eyebrows matched James’s exactly.

“All three of us.” James’s blue eyes, so like hers, demanded that his mother accept the conclusion she’d obviously drawn and didn’t care for.

Mrs. Bedwell looked from her son to me to Gage, whose even top teeth now sawed into his lip.

“I know your generation experiments,” she said. “What was that girl’s name?”

“Cheryl Johnson,” Daniel supplied.

“You other boys never dated a black girl,” she said, “or even a Mexican, but James dated Cheryl several times.”

“Ancient history.” James rubbed his temples. “I was, what, seventeen? Experimenting, like you said. Last I heard she was at ASU. This isn’t an experiment.”

“Your father and I raised all you boys to be open-minded,” she said.

“It worked on me, Mom, and I thank you for it. We met Gage and talked for a few hours and by then everything had just clicked into place. Like you always say happened with you and Dad? First date, and you knew. Well, so did we.”

“You knew what?”

“We love him, Mom. Both of us.”

A little red welled around Gage’s front teeth, sank deep in his lip. Red-faced, Daniel looked like he might burst.

“Of course. Friends love one another. I’ve known Anna Cohen for years. I suppose you could say I love her.”

James said nothing. I probably should, but I hesitated to take the telling away from him.

Gage could speak, though, and he did. “Mrs. Bedwell—and Daniel—when he says we love each other, he means we love each other. Not only friendship. It’s physical too.”

James glared at him.

“You can be mad at me, James, but I won’t lie to your mother or mislead her.”

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath, averting her eyes. “Are you careful?” she asked the sofa.

“Careful how? You mean AIDS? The Bedwells didn’t raise no fools, Mom. Except maybe Daniel.” James punched his brother’s biceps lightly. “He’s healthy. We all are. Except I’m hurt.” He gestured to his face.

For a minute or more no one else said anything. Daniel’s breathing was the loudest sound in the house.