Between us and the fireflies, Billy, Hank, and Kurt had pulled sarongs from the railing of the deck and spread them on the floor. They lay sprawled in a triangle, faces buried each in the next man’s groin, fingers inside each other. In the fading light Billy’s tongue flicked over the tight swell of Kurt’s balls cinched in the stretcher., while Hank deep-throated Billy’s cock down to the root. Billy pulled back from Kurt and gasped. Kurt, in his turn, began milking Hank hand over hand, pulling his shaft down with each stroke between his thighs–as we’ve all learned gives him the most intense pleasure.
All three teetered at the edge. Rajiv saw it too, took the bowl from the table, and sat down near them, far enough not to intrude on their magic, close enough to arrive in time. As he sat cross-legged watching them, his own cock started to swell again between his thighs.
“We’re gonna need that over here,” Kurt said. “This boy’s just about to lose it.” He continued to work on Hank with one hand as he reached across to take the bowl from Rajiv. The triangle broke up: Billy turned around to kneel and rub slow, clockwise circles on Hank’s belly with one hand, as he took the bowl in turn from Kurt , who went back to milking Hank in earnest. Billy steadied the vessel just below the head of Hank’s cock, the rim tipped up to catch any runaway first jets.
Rajiv slid over closer and began tugging on Billy's nipple ring while he languidly stroked himself with the other. In the dusk I could make out the hypnotic fascination in his eyes and the slack line of his jaw as he watched. Spent as he was, he couldn’t get enough.
Hank’s heaving belly suddenly went dead still. Kurt’s practiced hands still worked him. A strangled moan seeped out of his throat as his load surged into the bowl. Billy shifted his hand to the back of his neck to protect him from thrashing his head against the deck. Kurt was merciless, stroking well after Hank had begun begging him to stop.
He immediately moved on to Billy, squatting on his haunches, wrapping the spit-and-semen-slicked fingers of one hand around Billy’s shaft. With his other hand he pumped himself steadily, his cock pointed straight for the bowl now set on the deck between his knees. His balls hung down taut in the strap, practically grazing the floor below his pale, sinewy thighs. The chain still swung from the clamps that bit into his nipples. Rajiv began lightly feathering Kurt’s asshole, stretched and exposed as it was in his crouch while Kurt went on stroking himself and Billy simultaneously. I couldn’t see his ejaculation from where Luke, Jake and I lay spent in our own pile watching, but I knew the moment when he threw his head back and his torso went into spasms. He lost his balance and collapsed across Rajiv’s legs. Rajiv cradled him through the convulsions. Soon they lay giggling in each other’s arms.
Billy rose now onto his knees and pointed himself in turn down into the vessel most of us had already hallowed. His semen spilled into it in two big pulses. By that time, dusk was verging quickly into night. Fireflies, moonlight, stars and the candles we’d lit for each of us on the little altar to the side of the deck illuminated the blissful, exhausted knot of us draped over each other beneath the deep blue of the clear Tennessee sky. A nighthawk rasped invisibly above us. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a bat flitting just at the edge of the candlelight.
“Just one of us to go,” I heard Jake whisper from where I still lay with my cheek nestled in the cleft of his chest.
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