Thursday, May 13th, 1937
— very late —
The Cathay Hotel
The sound of our breathing, in the semi-darkness.
Tom and I nude, together, in my bed —
Or rather, on my bed. We'd pulled off the comforter, and the top sheet; now we were lying together, spooned, on our sides, my front to his back, bare skin to bare skin, hearts pounding —
Me, at his entrance.
"Oh," from him; in a whisper. "Oh … " He squirmed a little, in my encircling arm; and I felt him pushing back against my member, just a little, tentatively. "Oh … it feels good … " It came out as a breath.
I kissed and licked his neck, and I kissed his cheek; almost overwhelmed with the sensations, the desire, my emotions —
Another backwards push, on his part; and a stifled gasp, from him … I could feel myself just beginning to slip into him, and he squirmed in my arm, again, and moved against me, arching his back — and then, he stopped.
More breathing, in the dimness. I kissed and licked his neck again, making it wet, and he shivered.
"It's okay," I whispered. "It's okay … take your time … "
More breathing, from the boy in my arms; then — "I want it." And he pushed himself further back on me, taking me deeper, just a little, with another, accompanying gasp —
I'd prepared him, for this. I'd taken considerable pains, to prepare him for this.
In the end, though, I was surprised; it was more as if we'd prepared each other.
When we'd gotten back to my room, we'd started by showering together.
That much, at least, was second nature by now; almost a conditioned reflex. It just felt right. What was novel about the experience, was doing so with both hands free, and without the floor moving under our feet …
We had washed each other. And we had done so, very gently, very thoroughly, and very sensuously, with the Cathay's soft washcloths —
There was a great deal of kissing, involved.
The kissing continued, when we were dried off, and naked together, on my bed.
There was a great deal of rolling around, to go with the kissing; rolling around, and rubbing our bare bodies, our erections, against one another, hugging, squeezing, overwhelmed in the excitement, the freedom of doing this in an actual bed, with no threat of a crewman's knock on the door, or worse —
It was thrilling, and exciting to me, because it was Tom. Because it was Tom.
At last, moving against each other front-to-front, he'd whispered his request to me.
He wanted me inside him.
I'd stopped us, then, holding him still in my arms; and I'd kissed him, again. And then, in a whisper — a whisper, not because we needed to be quiet, but because it was intimate — I gently explained what we would need to do. How it would work. How it would feel, for him. How he would certainly feel it, the next day …
I'd thought he might be deterred. I was wrong; he became even more excited. Because, I guessed, he now knew it was actually going to happen …
And so, we'd come to this thrilling moment.
"Okay — ?" from me; another whisper, almost in his ear.
I was moving against him, now, moving deeper into him; but I was taking it very slow. I'd brought his top leg up a little, his knee bent, to ease my passage in …
"Oh, yeah — !" from him, whispered in a kind of ecstatic wonder. "Oh, yeah … " He moved against me, again. Then — "Keep going — ?"
I did. As I kissed him.
I had first used my mouth on him. Down below; between his cheeks.
It is a thing I have only done with Jack, before, and then only in complete privacy. I — we — do not know if we're the only ones to do it; certainly we'd never seen any of our classmates perform such an act. And the unwritten code we live by is, that playing and bed-visiting may happen, but the details of sex can never, ever be openly discussed …
Jack is very sensitive, in that part of his anatomy. It drives him a little wild, when I perform the act on him; and we have done it in as many positions as we can dream up.
Once, at his house, I'd had him lying back on his shoulders, his bottom up in the air, supported by my hands, under my invading mouth and tongue … and he'd writhed around so much in his abandon, his passion, that he'd fallen off the edge of his bed, taking me with him.
We'd waited, frozen, for five solid minutes, after, terrified that someone would come to investigate the double-thump —
That had been a spectacular session. It is one of our favorite memories.
Tom's reaction had been a little less — boisterous — perhaps … but no less ecstatic; judging by his gasps, and whimpers, and the way he made room for me, the way he opened himself up, for me …
And perhaps, judging by the way he'd kissed me, deeply and enthusiastically, both during and after …
I'd used my fingers on him, next.
I'd used my fingers on him, for a very long time … to relax him, and open him, but also to give him as much pleasure as I possibly could.
I'd told him, beforehand, that we would take this long. I believe that had added to his excitement.
I'd done the classic thing, starting with one finger, then adding a second, and then a third, at last, all the while moving in him, probing, gently, finding the sensitive places that made him gasp —
I used the same brand of petroleum jelly that Jack and I use. Here in Shanghai, the label is different, though.
I felt very close to Jack, as I worked on Tom; probing, massaging, soothing him with my whispers, kissing his lips, kissing his back, when he was lying on his front — Jack says I am very good at all of this, and he shows it, by how he reacts to my massaging …
As Tom did, after some minutes. He'd begun gasping more audibly, and writhing, more, and thrusting back against my fingers —
I'd flipped him over onto his back; and I'd taken his member into my mouth, gently running my mouth and tongue up and down on it, as I kept up the rhythm with my fingers … and he'd exploded in my mouth, pulsing over and over again, and the taste of him was sweet, as was the knowledge that I was the very first to ever do that to him, do that for him …
We'd rested for a few minutes, after.
I'd kept my fingers inside him.
And when I'd asked him, in a whisper, if he'd had enough, his answer was an emphatic, whispered, 'no' …
More breathing, in the dimness of the room.
The feeling of Tom, in my free arm; full-on touching, my front to his back. The feeling of his excitement.
"Are you all the way in — ?" from him, in a soft, intimate whisper.
I kissed his cheek.
"Mmm-hmm," I murmured. And I reached around, and guided his free hand down to where I was penetrating him; and I felt his fingertips exploring the both of us, feather-light on my testicles …
"Oh, gosh," he breathed; then, "oh, gosh," again, in wonder.
I kissed his cheek again, and I hugged him; and I moved against him, just a little, very gently, and he gasped, and moved back against me in answer.
The ultimate intimacy. The ultimate joining. Oh, Tom …
"Are you okay — ?" from me, again, in his ear.
"Yeah … Yeah." Miracle of miracles, I could actually see the upturn of a smile on the side of his face, in the dimness.
I kissed the edge of that smile, and I laid my head down on the pillow, beside his.
"Good," I whispered. Then: "That was the hard part. You did very well. Now comes the part you'll really like … "
And with that, I pulled out, just a little; and then, gently, gently moved back in, earning another suppressed gasp, from Tom …
In the end, he did not last very long; which was probably for the best.
I was very gentle with him, and as careful as I could be; but at the same time, I tried to please him, doing things that pleasured Jack … moving in certain ways, reaching certain spots, that can make Jack react very strongly —
"Oh," Tom had gasped, more than once; then, "Oh!" more loudly, when I'd ground into him, gently —
For part of the time, I'd used my fingers — they were still coated in petroleum jelly — on his nipples; and that had caused him to twist against me, a little.
And then, for part of the time, I'd used my hand on his member; but only at intervals. It was important for him, I knew, to explore these new feelings, these new sensations, by manipulating himself, by masturbating himself … I remembered that, very clearly, from the first time Jack had penetrated me —
Tom did not lose his erection, as I moved inside him. I was very glad at that, and somewhat proud. I thought it showed I'd done a good job, preparing him.
At last, he was clearly ready for his climax. He was shivering and jerking in my free arm, and moving against me; and his hand on his member was moving faster …
I tried to move inside him, with a consistent rhythm; and I tried to go on hitting the right spot inside him, the seat of pleasure, that can sometimes bring Jack almost to the brink of orgasm, without any use of our hands, at all … And as I did so, I kissed and licked his neck, his cheek, anyplace I could reach —
"Oh … . oh … . ummm — !"
For the second time that night, he climaxed copiously; this time over his hand, his inner thigh, and the soft towel I'd laid down for us, before we'd started …
I felt his spasms, as he clamped down on me, over and over again. It was a thrilling, ecstatic thing.
When he was done, when his hand went still, and the squeezing stopped, I went still, inside him. I hugged him close to me, kissing his neck and cheek, as he panted. I thought I could feel the beating of his heart, under my hand.
"Ooohhh … wow," from him, at last, in a soft whisper. The most intimate whisper imaginable.
"Mmmm-hmm," from me, in a murmur. I smiled into his neck; enjoying the moment, the closeness of his body in my arm; my heart full of my feelings, for him.
A pause. Our breathing, in the dimness, slowly returning to normal …
"Did you … you know, do it, inside me — ?" This, from him, in the softest whisper of all. I could barely hear him.
I kissed his cheek.
"No," I whispered back.
Another loaded pause, in the dim.
"I want you to," from him; breathing it.
Oh, Tom … I hugged him tighter, in my arm, and moved against him, just barely. I kissed his neck, once, twice.
"I do too," I whispered to him. "But maybe next time … Okay — ?"
He would be sore enough tomorrow, I knew, after what we'd just done. Jack does not enter me so very often; but I am always sore, for a few days after. And this was Tom's first time …
I had explained this all to Tom, before we'd started, tonight. I'd warned him.
"Okay," came the answering whisper. A reluctant whisper.
I kissed him again, on his neck.
"When you're ready, I'll pull out … and then, if you want, you can use your hands on me — ?"
I actually said it, a little shyly.
"Okay — !" came the whisper. He moved a little, in my arm, as if to move away —
I tightened my grip, around his chest.
"Shhh," from me; and he fell still. "Shhh … there's no hurry … " I kissed his cheek. "Lying here like this is one of my favorite things … " Another kiss. "Unless you want me to pull out — ?"
"No — !" came the answering whisper. Actually, it was a breath; short, and sharp.
Another pause, in the dimness.
"No," from him, in a stronger whisper; and there was a quiet laughter, in it. "No; it took us long enough to get you in me. We can give it another minute or so … " And he snuggled back against me, a little, and he deliberately took me a little deeper, inside him — and this time I was the one who gasped —
* * *
We showered together, again, after.
And it occurred to me, then, that I was getting used to Tom's slighter frame, under my hands, as we gently washed and caressed each other, under the warm water …
Not that he was much shorter than Jack; the three of us were much the same height. Rather, it was that Jack's shoulders, his arms and chest, were more developed; perhaps, probably, due to our rowing. Tom, by contrast, was younger, more boyish, more, just-beginning-to-bloom …
And then, it was back to bed. On top of a fresh towel. Touching. Cuddling. Moving against each other.
We satisfied each other, several more times, over the course of the evening; using our mouths and hands …
Until, finally, some time before dawn, I found myself holding Tom in my arms; spooning, my front to his back, in an echo of how we'd started out … only this time, we were merely cuddling, and he was asleep.
Fast asleep. His mouth was a little open, and his breathing was slow. He had, I found, just a little bit of a snore; which I found endearing.
The warmth of him, in my arms. The utter closeness of him, the feel of him, skin to skin, against me … The smell of him.
I considered things, as I drifted down into sleep, myself.
I loved Jack. I loved him first, last, and always, until the end of my life, and beyond. That's just how it was, between us; I knew, somehow, it was the same for him, and it would not change.
But I'd reconciled myself, to my feelings for Tom.
I loved Tom, too … Not in the way I loved Jack; perhaps as something of a younger brother, although there was much, much more to it than that —
Regardless. I had feelings for him. I loved him.
And it had been a revelation, and a gift; a quandary, and a conundrum, that I could love someone in addition to my Jack, all at the same time.
And it had caused me a lot of confusion, and self-doubt, and it would probably continue to do so, at times … but I had slowly come to accept it. And just at that moment, lying peacefully in bed with Tom asleep in my arms, it felt right.
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