Illustrations by Michael Kirwan

 Story by Jonathan Asche



— Originally published in Playguy magazine - April, 2002 —


Your Brother's in the Closet... Your Boyfriend's Closet!



"Oh, yeah!" Clem moaned, his body arched backward above Lang's. His arms stretched tautly behind him in two thick, muscled columns. His ass was hovering above Lang's lips awaiting another invasion by his lover's enthusiastic tongue.

Lang grazed Clem's hole lightly with the tip of his tongue, then speared it ferociously. Clem cried out, grinding his butt into Lang's face. Lang clamped his hands onto the fleshy globes of Clem's ass, prying his butt cheeks apart and lapping his tender rosebud.

Carefully Clem pulled one of his hands away, shifting so his knees bore his weight. His hard cock was dripping pre-cum like a leaky faucet. He began to stroke it, waves of pleasure making him light-headed. "Oh, baby," he groaned, "you got me so hot. Don't think I can hold back any longer."

Usually, this was taken as Lang's signal to ease up, to let Clem now lavish some attention on his boyfriend. But Lang continued to gnaw at Clem's asshole, refusing, this time, to let his lover choreograph their sex. If Clem was on the verge of shooting his load, so be it.

Clem took his hand away from his dick, hoping that, by eliminating the extra stimulus, he'd prolong this moment. Lang, though, was not going to let that happen. He quickly reached around Clem's waist and grabbed Clem's cock, picking up where his lover left off. Clem's face contorted with the strain, as if he were trying to bench-press a refrigerator. His position above Lang became precarious as his arms began to shake. He tried to think non-sexual thoughts — he needed to clean the apartment, a project at work was due next week — but to no avail. How could he not think about sex with Lang licking his ass and pulling his cock?

Clem let out a guttural cry as orgasm shuddered through his muscular frame. Thick streams of jism splattered his abdomen, Lang's torso, and the sheets. Clem's skin tingled and he felt light-headed. Quickly, he rolled off onto the bed, fearing he'd lose his balance and break Lang's nose.

Lang sat up and smiled down at Clem. Getting up on his knees, Lang straddled Clem's torso. Clem looked up at him and smiled, admiring Lang's physique: the bulging biceps, the two slabs of muscle that formed his chest, the carpet of dark hair that covered his chest and abs, that huge cock jutting up from between his legs.

Lang dragged his fingers through the pools of cum that collected in the valleys between the hard muscles of Clem's stomach. Using Clem's juice as a lubricant, Lang began to jack off, his hand moving up and down the thick shaft of his cock in long, luxurious strokes. In a minute, he was panting heavily. His eyes closed, his head thrown back, Lang chanted between short breaths: "I'm ... gonna ... shoot. I'm ... gonna ... shoot!"

Spiraling ribbons of cream erupted from the swollen head of Lang's dick, raining down on Clem's shoulder and chin. Lang's body jerked as the last few drops of jism shot out of his cock and landed on Clem's cum-sticky torso. Lang collapsed on top of Clem. The lovers shared a deep kiss before Lang rolled over to the vacant side of the bed. They lay still, their afterglow forestalling the shower they usually took after sex to wash away the cum that glazed their bodies.

The pleasant, post-coital laziness was short-lived, however. The ringing phone startled them both back into reality. Groaning in annoyance, Clem reached over to the bedside table and picked up the phone. "Hello," he said impatiently. Then, in a lighter tone, "Oh, hi! How're you doing? No, you didn't wake me up...."

Lang lay next to Clem, listening to his side of the conversation, trying to figure out who he was talking to, until the sight of Clem's body distracted him. Their relationship was relatively young. They'd been together scarcely six months and had only lived together for two. But Lang couldn't imagine ever growing tired of looking at Clem. He admired the perfectly rounded contours of Clem's chest, how the modest patch of brown hair between his pecs tapered to a thin line of fur that guided the eye down the firm ridges of his abdomen before flowering out around his cock and balls. Usually, Lang's eyes stopped at the crotch. But when he allowed them to continue their tour of his lover, he had to appreciate the tight, muscular legs that were in perfect proportion to the rest of his well-maintained body.

"Uh, sure. When? Um, that's fine. How long will you be staying?" Lang snapped out of his reverie. Sounded like they were going to have a house-guest.

"OK," Clem continued. "Do you remember how to get here?" Lang watched Clem as he spoke into the phone, giving directions to whoever it was on the other end of the line. He smiled as he noticed a dollop of coagulating cum clinging to his lover's clean-shaven chin, just below his lower lip.

"All right, then. We'll see you next week. Take care." Clem hung up the phone.

"So, who's our houseguest going to be?" Lang asked immediately.

"My brother. He'll be visiting us next week for spring break."

"For how long?" Lang asked, annoyed. A houseguest would undoubtedly put a damper on their sex life.

Clem let out a defeated sigh. "The full week."

"Does he ...?"

"No, he doesn't," Clem answered. "So as far as he's concerned, we're just roommates."

Lang scowled. "Roommates who share the same bed?"

"It's a two-bedroom apartment," Clem said flatly. "I'll take the spare bedroom, and Cliff can sleep on the sofa."

"Cliff and Clem? How precious. I hope he's worth my going back into the closet for," Lang sneered.


"Don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be. I'll tell him, just not ... now."

Lang sighed. "I'll play along this time, for you. But don't think I'm OK with it."

"Look, for what it's worth, we don't have to be celibate for a week," Clem said, leaning over to give Lang a quick peck on the cheek. "After all, he's got to sleep sometime."

Cliff arrived at Clem and Lang's cramped midtown apartment the following weekend. As Clem headed for the front door to let his brother in, he made one last visual sweep of the apartment, making sure he hadn't overlooked any "incriminating" evidence when he'd "straightened" up (and "straightened" out) the apartment. No Playguys lying on the coffee table, no rainbow paraphernalia, no posters of scantily clad men on the walls. Satisfied, he opened the door.

Clem's brother strode in, dressed in a T-shirt and denim shorts, topped off with a baseball cap. He immediately dropped an overstuffed gym bag and large canvas suitcase onto the floor. "How're ya doin'?" Cliff drawled, giving Clem a quick hug.

Lang stood in the background, watching as the brothers greeted each other. He couldn't help but appraise Cliff's appearance. The brothers had similar facial features — same deep-set eyes, same full lips, same squared chin — but on the younger brother these features were softened. Cliff was cute rather than handsome. Still, cute was very nice to look at, and Lang would be looking at him for a full week. Yet, there was something else about Cliff's appearance that struck Lang and gave him an eerie sense of déjà vu.

"Cliff, this is my roommate, Lang," Clem introduced them.

Cliff stepped forward and offered his hand. "Hey, nice to meet ya... Lang?"

"Short for Langston. My parents were kind of pretentious," Lang joked as they shook hands. Then, their eyes met and Lang saw the same flash of recognition in Cliff's eyes that he knew Cliff would be seeing in his own.

"You look awfully familiar," he said. "You ever been down to Florida?"

"Um, not in quite a while," Lang answered slowly as he began to realize where their paths had crossed....


That marketing seminar in Tallahassee, eight months ago. Lang had gone to the queer bar next to the hotel. He was sitting at the bar nursing a gin and tonic when this cute young man sat next to him. Had to be at least twenty-one to be in here, but this guy's twenty-first birthday couldn't have been too long ago. Must be a college student, Lang surmised. Lang was twenty-three, and he felt like a dirty old man when he lustily appraised the younger guy's lean, athletic physique, displayed to its best advantage in a tight T-shirt and even tighter jeans.

They sat next to one another for several minutes, not speaking, though Lang sneaked glances at the college dude when he thought he wasn't looking. Then, the guy tapped him on the arm.

"'Scuse me. I need to use the rest room. I'll buy you a drink if you save my seat for me."

Lang agreed, saying no drink was necessary. He watched as the guy wove his way through the growing crowd. Lang admired his firm ass in those faded blue jeans.

When the younger man returned, they began a conversation. The young guy was a junior who didn't come here much at all for fear his classmates might find out. When Lang asked him if he wanted to dance, they undulated on the dance floor together, their bodies getting closer and closer. Lang embraced the guy and kissed him. The guy was resistant at first, but soon opened his mouth to let Lang's tongue inside. They ended up making out in a dark corner of the bar for some time before Lang asked if the guy wanted to go back to his hotel room. He accepted the invitation quickly, as if Lang might rescind it if he pondered it over too long.

Their sex was urgent. The college guy was obviously inexperienced but eager to please, trying to take as much of Lang's cock as his virgin mouth would allow. Lang could feel the man's body shaking nervously as he kissed and licked and nibbled every square inch of it. "Don't be nervous. Just relax," Lang had said several times. Lang asked the college guy if he could fuck him, and the guy said yes. Lang tried to be gentle, but could tell that his young trick was unprepared for the initial shock of having his ass invaded by Lang's stiff prick. He cried out in pain as Lang buried his cock inside him. Still, he didn't ask Lang to stop.

The student lay on his back, his feet resting on Lang's shoulders as Lang rammed his dick through that tight hole. He stroked the guy's swollen cock as he fucked him, and they came almost simultaneously.

And then their night together ended. The young man got dressed quickly, saying he had to be up early the next morning. They parted with a brief but probing kiss, their night together to become nothing more than a fine faded memory....


Until now, when it all came flooding back to Lang as that trick from his past stood in his living room, his identity as his lover's brother revealed. Neither of them had changed much in appearance. Cliff's hair was shorter, and Lang had grown a goatee and mustache, but these changes weren't enough to disguise the past they shared. Suddenly, pretending to be Clem's roommate seemed the least of Lang's problems.

The first couple of days of Cliff's visit were uneventful. On the night of Cliff's arrival, the two brothers stayed up late talking about old times. The second day, Lang and Clem drove Cliff around Atlanta, pointing out various clubs he might want to go to while he was in town. Of course, Clem was only pointing out the straight clubs, but neither Cliff nor Lang dared correct him. They went out to dinner, then returned so the brothers could talk some more. Again, it was late when they all went to bed. Clem and Lang managed to sneak a conversation while Cliff was in the bathroom brushing his teeth.

"I'm really too tired to do anything tonight," Clem whispered. "Maybe he'll do some club hopping during the week, give us some privacy."

Yet the next day, it was Lang and Cliff who got the privacy. Lang came home from work to find a message on the machine from Clem, asking Lang to call him at the office.

"What is it?" Lang asked when Clem picked up the phone.

"Look, I'm really sorry, but I've got to work late on this project if it's going to be ready by deadline. Do you mind entertaining Cliff for me?" Clem asked as if this would be a chore. "Um, no problem."

"Is he there?"

"No, I just walked in. He must be out or something." Just then, he heard the bathroom door open. Cliff appeared in the living room wrapped only in a towel. Lang immediately averted his eyes, focusing intently on the end table.

"Well, I'll see you later this evening, probably around eight. You two have fun. Love you."

This was Lang's cue to say, "Love you, too." But with Cliff standing there, he said, "OK, see you tonight."

Lang looked over at Cliff, who was standing next to his luggage at the opposite end of the sofa from where Lang sat. Cliff ran a comb through his light brown hair — which seemed unnecessary, considering his hair was clipped close to his skull, with only enough length on top to allow for a few wisps to fall across his forehead.

"How's it goin'?" Cliff asked casually, seemingly unconcerned by Lang's presence.

"Uh, OK. 'Fraid Cliff has got to work late, so it's just me. You want to go out to dinner?" Lang was trying to act nonchalant, trying not to stare. Cliff, however, was hard to ignore, especially when he was just wearing a towel. Lang let his eyes drift from Cliff's face to his taut, muscular chest, down to his compact torso, following the trail of silky, brown hairs that started at his navel and disappeared beneath the towel.

"Sounds good," Cliff said, dropping his comb onto the coffee table. "Where're we going?"

"Hmmm. You like Chinese?"

Cliff made a face. "How 'bout Mexican instead?" Lang agreed, though he wasn't in the mood for Mexican. "Just give me a few minutes to get dressed," Cliff said, pulling some clothes out of his suitcase.

And then, the towel came off. Lang looked away, but not without first getting a good eyeful. Cliff's flaccid dick was about six inches long, curving slightly to the left. His balls were nearly hairless, dangling heavily between his legs. The sight, though brief, was enough to cause Lang's own cock to stir within his pants. Standing up from the sofa, he announced, "Well, I'll give you some privacy."

"Doesn't matter," Cliff said, stepping into a pair of olive green boxers. "I've got nothing you haven't seen before."

Lang left the room, anyway, wondering if "nothing you haven't seen before" was meant to be as suggestive as he was taking it. Was it a fucking invitation?

Dinner went smoothly enough, though Lang felt nervous alone with Cliff. Every time Clem's brother opened his mouth to speak, Lang expected him to mention that night in Tallahassee. The topic didn't come up — until they went to The Duke for drinks afterward.

"I think I remember where I met you," Cliff said as they settled into a booth near the back of the dimly lit bar. He had an impish grin on his face. "Do you?"

Lang's heart seized up in his chest. At first, he considered pretending he didn't know what Cliff was talking about, but thought better of it. "Yes," he answered softly. "That bar, next to the hotel I was staying at."

Cliff's grin became a full smile. "You remembered!" Then, sounding a bit panic-stricken, "You didn't tell my brother, did you?"

"Jesus Christ, no!"

A sigh of relief. "Good. He doesn't know about... what I am. I know I should tell him, but every time I plan to do it, I chicken out."

"Well, he might be more accepting than you think," Lang offered.

"Does he know about you?"

"I think he has a good idea," Lang answered carefully. "We've never discussed it, though."

They were silent for a moment. Then Cliff leaned forward. "So, when do you think Clem's gonna get home?" he asked, his eyes brimming with lascivious intentions.

Well, this is no longer the nervous closet case I deflowered less than a year ago, Lang thought, feeling his face grow hot. Cliff was coming on to him! This was unnerving enough. But even more unsettling was that Lang found himself wrestling with temptation a bit more strenuously than he'd expected.

"I'm glad you reminded me," Lang answered quickly, then he gulped down his drink. "Cliff is going to be home any minute, and I'm sure he'll want to see you. No need for me to monopolize all your time."

When they got back to the apartment, Clem was there, scarfing down a microwave dinner. "You guys have fun?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," Lang replied. "Dinner and some drinks afterward."

Cliff, who had grown quiet after Lang ignored his advance, excused himself to use the bathroom.

"Tonight," Clem said with a wink when Cliff was out of the room.

Lang only offered a wan smile in reply, too preoccupied with Cliff to get worked up over sex with Clem.

When Cliff came out of the bathroom, Clem did his best to persuade him to experience Atlanta's nightlife, but Cliff was less than enthused. "Maybe tomorrow," he said. "Think I'll just hang out here tonight."

The three of them stayed up until 11 o'clock. Clem was the first to announce he was going to bed. Not trusting himself alone with Cliff, Lang also excused himself.

In the privacy of "his" bedroom, Lang stripped and settled in beneath the covers. He lay in bed reading a horror novel, wondering how long Cliff would be awake. He was really getting horny — only Cliff, not Clem, inspired his desire. His cock grew rock-hard as he remembered that night in Tallahassee. Then, seeing Cliff naked earlier this evening. Lang hoped Cliff went to sleep soon so Clem could sneak across the hall.

Lang was about to give up waiting for Clem when he heard a light tapping at his door. It was nearly midnight. He hopped out from beneath the covers, fluffed the pillows and arranged himself on the bed, naked and ready for sex. "Come in," he said seductively.

The door opened. Only it wasn't his lover, Clem; it was his lover's brother, Cliff.

"Oh, hi!" Lang said, trying to sound pleasantly surprised rather than mortified. Quickly, he grabbed the bedspread and sheet and pulled it over his naked body. "I was just getting ready to go to sleep," he added, like this might obliterate the eyeful Cliff had got of his hard-on.

Cliff stood at the foot of the bed. He wore only those olive green boxers that Lang saw him stepping into earlier. Lang could tell by the tent Cliff was pitching in his shorts that Clem's brother wasn't just here to say good night. Finding Lang reclining naked on the bed did little to discourage him.

"Hey," Cliff said sheepishly, looking at the floor, then up at Lang. There was a partial grin on his face. "Couldn't sleep."

"There's some wine in the fridge," Lang suggested, his tone so artificial it could cause cancer in lab rats. "Couple glasses should relax you."




























Cliff, though, would not be dissuaded. He walked over to the side of the bed and sat down next to Lang. "I had something else in mind," he said. To bring his point home, he picked up Lang's hand and guided it to his crotch, placing it there so Lang could feel his stiffening cock beneath the fabric of his boxers.

Lang pulled his hand away like he'd touched a flame. "Um, well, I..." His face grew hot. He needed to tell Cliff he was in a relationship. No need to mention that relationship was with Clem, he reasoned. But, God, he was so tempted. He desperately wanted to rip those boxers off Cliff's taut body, bury his face between his firm legs and suck that swollen cock. Then he wanted to slide his own dick between those high, round ass cheeks. Yet he felt as if he were cheating on Clem for merely thinking these things. He certainly couldn't act on them.

"Don't worry about Clem," Cliff said softly, leaning forward. "We'll be real quiet. He'll never know."

At that, Cliff put his mouth on Lang's. His tongue darted inside Lang's mouth, dueling with Lang's. Lang needed to push him away, but couldn't summon the will power to do so. Cliff began pulling at the bed covers, exposing Lang's muscular body. He ran his hand down the furry terrain of Lang's torso, coming to a stop at Lang's cock. Cliff's fingers circled the throbbing organ, massaging it roughly. He circled the slit with his thumb, toying with the beads of pre-cum that oozed from Lang's dick.

Lang was unable to resist. He put his hands on Cliff's back, letting his fingers gently glide over his smooth skin, down to Cliff's waist. He began tugging at Cliff's boxers, pulling them down and exposing that pert butt, tracing the crack with his fingers, nudging his tight asshole. Cliff moaned softly.

Then Cliff stood up suddenly and kicked off his boxers. His cock jutted forward, fully erect. He hopped on top of Lang, grinding his butt against Lang's aching prick. "You're so hot," he whispered, pressing his lips against Lang's mouth.

Lang's heart was beating furiously. I shouldn't be doing this, he told himself as he slipped a hand between their bodies to caress Cliff's dick. We've gone too far already, Lang thought, his hand still gliding up and down Cliff's cock. Got to stop it! His inner voice was shouting, while his hips were thrusting upward, driving his prick against the crack of Cliff's ass.

"Look," Lang gasped, trying to push Cliff away. "We shouldn't be... oh, yeah... doing this. I'm in... I'm in a relation—"

As if on cue, there was a light tapping on the door.

For a fraction of a second, Cliff and Lang froze. They looked at one another, their expressions saying the same thing: Oh, shit! Lang pushed Cliff off his body. "Closet!" he hissed. Cliff was across the room in three bounding steps, opening the closet just as Clem was turning the knob to the bedroom door. Clem entered the bedroom only a millisecond after Cliff sequestered himself.

Clem wore only a pair of white cotton briefs, the outline of his semi-hard dick clearly visible. "You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome," he said, a devious grin on his face as he eyed Lang's naked body.

Lang smiled, hoping the panic he felt wasn't evident on his face. "I was beginning to think you fell asleep."

"Can't sleep when I'm horny," Clem purred, walking toward the bed.

Your brother has the same problem, Lang thought. "Speaking of sleep, are you sure our house guest is dozing?"

"Living room light is out. Unless he's just sitting in the dark, I think we're safe," Clem said, sitting down on the mattress. "We'll try to be quiet, just in case."

Clem leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Lang's lips. Lang was hesitant to respond. How could he go through with this, knowing Clem's brother was hiding in the closet? He was less worried about Cliff finding out that he and Clem were more than roommates than he was about Cliff finding out like this. But he couldn't very well tell Clem he was too tired or not in the mood or had a headache. Not when he was reclining naked on the bed, his cock hard as steel and glazed with pre-cum. Lang was just going to have to risk damaging Cliff's psyche. Lang's lips parted and Clem's tongue slid inside. He ran his hands down Clem's back, down to his ass. Clem nibbled the side of Lang's neck, then traced his ear with his tongue. Lang slipped his hands beneath the waistband of Clem's briefs and began kneading his butt. Clem pinched one of Lang's hard, brown nipples, whispering, "I want you so bad."

Clem's mouth traveled south, kissing and biting Lang's body on the way down, until he reached Lang's dick. He nibbled at the insides of Lang's thighs, kissed his hard, flat belly on either side of his pulsing cock. He was fond of teasing Lang this way, sometimes asking playfully, "Am I missing anything?" It both aroused and annoyed Lang, laying there wondering when Clem would finally plant those kisses on his dick. Sometimes, Clem stretched his patience so thin Lang would snap, "Just suck it, already!" But he suspected this turned Clem on, hearing him demand a sex act.

"Suck my cock," Lang grunted tersely, grabbing the base of his dick and batting it against Clem's chin.

Clem chuckled. "Are you horny, baby?" he asked in a mocking voice.

Lang wondered what Cliff was thinking, hearing this exchange. Then, Clem took Lang's cock into his mouth, and Lang forgot Cliff was hiding in the closet; pleasure had erased his mind. Clem swirled his tongue around the head of his prick, then eased the entire length of his rod into the warm, moist depths of his throat. Lang ran his fingers through Clem's soft, brown hair, holding his head in place while he thrust his cock into his mouth.

Clem's tongue prodded the plump head of Lang's prick. He dragged his tongue down the length of the shaft, to Lang's balls. His tongue swirled around the oblong orbs, still hanging low in their fuzzy sack. Clem's mouth moved lower still, toward the dark valley of his ass.

Lang hoisted his legs up in the air, raising his asshole to Clem's face. No verbal prompting was necessary this time. Clem dove right in, lapping at Lang's pink hole. Lang moaned softly, then a sharp grunt escaped his lips as Clem forced the tip of his tongue past his tight sphincter.

"Shhhhh! He'll hear us," Clem scolded.

If only you knew, Lang thought.

Clem continued to tongue Lang's ass, sliding his tongue deep inside. Then, he returned to Lang's balls briefly before moving back to his cock, swallowing it in quick, fierce gulps. Lang bit his lower lip to keep from crying out.

Abruptly, Clem ceased sucking Lang's cock. He slid his body on top of Lang's. They kissed urgently, Clem grinding his crotch against Lang's dick. Lang began tugging at Clem's briefs. "You're overdressed," he whispered in his lover's ear.

Clem pushed himself up on his knees. "What're you going to do about it?"

Lang knew precisely what to do about it. He scooted down the bed, sliding between Clem's legs, until his head was positioned beneath the swell of Clem's crotch. He raised his head to it, pressing his face against the soft mound of his balls and getting a whiff of his manly scent. Resting on one elbow, he was able to get his mouth on the tubular bulge of Clem's dick, prodding it with his tongue and tasting the salty pre-cum that had soaked through the cloth. While precariously balanced on his one elbow, he tugged at the waistband of Clem's underwear, wanting to unveil the turgid cock beneath.

"Let me help you," Clem offered, pulling his briefs down until they were stretched tight around his thighs. His cock leapt out as if spring-loaded. Lang went right to work, hungrily gulping down Clem's dick. It had only been three days since they last had sex, but Lang sucked Clem's dick as if they'd been celibate for months.

They fell into a more comfortable position, Clem flopping down on the mattress and pulling off his briefs. Lang rearranged himself so his head was at Clem's crotch, his dick at Clem's mouth. Lang continued sucking his lover's cock, while Clem bowed his head between Lang's thighs and, once again, started licking his asshole.

Lang curled his fingers around Clem's prick, stroking the shaft as his tongue circled the head. He felt Clem's fingers against his hole, working the tip of one finger inside him, sliding the digit in and out of his ass.

"I want to fuck you," Clem said in a low voice. "Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked, shoving his finger in deep. "Yes," Lang whimpered.

"What?" Now, he was thrusting two fingers into Lang's ass.


Clem stretched his arm over to the bedside table, opening a drawer and blindly fumbling for lube and a condom. Finding both, he sat up. Lang rolled over on his back and watched as Clem tore open the plastic wrapping of the condom with his teeth.

Quickly, Clem squirted a few drops of lubricant into the rubber and rolled it over his throbbing cock. He squirted more lube into his hand and slid his fingers between Lang's butt cheeks, making his ass wet and slippery.

"Ready for me?" Clem asked, his finger probing Lang's lubricated ass.

Lang nodded, bringing his knees to his chest. Clipping his sheathed cock, Clem pressed it against Lang's puckered sphincter. Lang gritted his teeth as his lover's dick pierced him. Slowly, Clem eased the length of his rod into Lang until his balls were resting against Lang's upturned ass. He started thrusting his hips. Gently at first, then picking up the pace as the pleasure increased. Lang put his hands on Clem's ass, digging his fingers into those muscular globes as Clem fucked him.

"Harder," Lang grunted between clenched teeth. "Fuck me hard!"

Clem fell forward, his body hovering over Lang's, his cock plowing Lang's ass at full throttle. The bed shook violently, the sound of creaking bedsprings filling the room. Clem seemed past worrying whether they would wake Cliff, just as Lang was well past worrying about what psychological damage Cliff might take away with him when finally released from the closet. Both men were grunting loudly now. Clem spit into the palm of his hand and reached between Lang's thighs, curling his fingers around Lang's cock and jacking him off while fucking his ass. Lang's body began to shake and shudder.

"Oh, God... Oh, God, I'm gonna cum!" Lang panted.

Clem pounded his ass harder.

"I'm sooo... oh!" A pearly white missile of cum shot from Lang's cock and onto his face, followed by less forceful spurts of jism that splattered his chest and abdomen.

Clem immediately bent down to kiss him, getting a taste of his lover's syrupy cream. He then leaned back. Gripping Lang's thighs, Clem pumped his cock in and out of Lang's ass at a furious pace. His body tensed then froze, as if he'd just received an electric jolt. Clem's fingers dug into the flesh of Lang's thighs as he came, his copious load filling the condom. His body fell on top of Lang's. They lay there, silently, Clem's dick still buried in Lang's ass, their bodies tingling.

Lang looked over at the digital clock on the bedside table. The glowing red numbers read 1:26. "Ooooh," he groaned, "seven-thirty is going to come early."

Clem looked over at the clock as well. "Guess it's time to go to sleep. " Ordinarily, this would just mean a hasty clean up and rolling into each other's arms. Now with Cliff staying with them, it meant Clem had to return to the guestroom. Clem slid his softening cock out of Lang's ass and pulled off the jism-filled rubber, dropping it in a nearby waste basket as he stepped off the bed.

When Clem bent down to pick his underwear off the floor, he asked: "When did you get these?" He stood up, holding the olive green boxers.

"Uh, I forget. Last time I went shopping for clothes," Lang answered, hoping Clem wouldn't grill him for more details, wouldn't wonder why Lang had a pair of boxers when he preferred briefs.

Lang was thankful that Clem just shrugged and dropped the boxers on the bed. "You'll have to wear them for me some time. Boxers can be kind of sexy."

Clem stepped into his briefs, then leaned down to give Lang one final kiss. "Love you," he whispered as he backed toward the door.

"Love you, too," Lang smiled.

Once Clem was out of the room, Lang grabbed a washcloth from a drawer in the bedside table. Clem laughed at him for keeping a supply of washcloths in the bedroom for this purpose, but it proved to be a wise idea. Lang mopped up the drying cum that glazed his face and torso. Once cleaned up, he took a deep breath and walked over to the closet door.

Cliff didn't look at him when the door opened. Guilt overwhelmed Lang. "Look," he said consolingly, "Clem wasn't ready to tell..."

Cliff nodded, stepping out of the closet with his shoulders hunched, his eyes downcast. "Sorry," he mumbled, before shuffling out of the bedroom, not even bothering to retrieve his boxers.

Lang felt like a class-A shit. Here Clem and Lang had played the charade of being roommates to spare Cliff's feelings, when it ultimately did more harm than good. Lang started to close the closet, then hesitated. Streaming down the inside of the door, barely noticeable against the white paint, was that...? Christ! Cliff had jacked off in the closet, listening to Lang have sex with his brother. The idea sent a shudder down Lang's spine and aroused him at the same time. He tried to visualize Cliff, in the closet stroking that mouth-watering cock of his, remembering how close he came to sucking that cock tonight, wondering how far he'd have gone if Clem hadn't knocked on the door when he did.

The important thing was, he'd done nothing, Lang told himself. He was still the faithful boyfriend. He would, though, conjure up memories of Cliff's firm, hard body for quite some time.



For the next few days of his visit, Cliff decided to spend more time out of the apartment. He finally went club-hopping, first consulting with Lang to learn which were the choicest gay clubs to go to. On Friday, when Lang returned home from work, he saw Clem and Cliff sitting at the kitchen table, drinking beer. Both wore broad smiles.

"Guess what?" Clem beamed.

"Can't imagine. What?" Lang asked shortly. He hated dealing with cheerful people when he'd been at work all day.

"I came out to Cliff. He knows. About me. About us."

Lang's eye brows darted upward. "Good for you," he said, managing a smile.

"Wanna know what else? This is too funny!"

"Doubt Mom and Dad will think so," Cliff interjected.

"Cliff's queer too!" Clem burst out laughing. "Guess the pressure's on Chloe to provide grandchildren."

"Chloe?" Lang asked.

"Our sister," Cliff explained to Lang.

Cliff, Clem and Chloe? What kind of sick fucks were their parents?

"I got home early from work," Clem said, "and Cliff says he has something to tell me. And all I could do was laugh. He gets pissed, but then, I explain it's OK, 'cause I'm a homo too. We've been sharing secrets all afternoon."

Sharing? Lang's heart skipped a beat. Exactly what all was shared? He looked over at Cliff. Cliff caught his gaze and smiled, giving him a wink to let him know it's OK, our secret is safe.

"That's great," Lang said with more genuine enthusiasm. "We should celebrate."

"Yeah, we should," Clem said loudly. Obviously, he was not drinking his first beer of the evening. "How 'bout a three-way?" Clem roared with laughter, but Cliff and Lang looked at each other in horror. For a split second, Lang felt like explaining they had come close enough to that already. But he didn't. Some secrets should be kept.

"How about dinner instead," Lang suggested calmly.





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