I-Candy

Except when they are falling down, my sagging pants are never below my ass and dick, but I've seen guys who are basically walking around in their boxers and just decorating their legs with their pants. That's so much an example of something being taken to a ridiculous extreme! There's more, though, than just how absurd it looks. It's uncomfortable and difficult to walk when that mess is binding your thighs, and something good feeling is being missed.

When my pants are hanging off my dick and the curve of my ass, there is some NICE rubbing going on. I mean, it's not as good as having some lips or hands touching me in those places, but the material touching me there and moving as I walk can keep me in a semi or near semi state. So, I would love to wear my jeans and board shorts that way, even if it didn't get the approving looks that it does. I still have some khakis that hang off me that way too, but the newer ones are more "conventional" mostly... well, I have a low rise pair, too. The dick fills them up really nicely if I wear my compression shorts... great looking bulge if the stares are any indication. Dick hanging down one leg seems to be an eye-catcher too.

Anyway, I miss the feel on the top of my dick when I wear my khakis higher, but people seem to take me a little more seriously... and I'm still getting more than enough sexual interest... In fact many of the guys and girls who are now showing interest are like the serious people on campus... not so serious that they don't have a sense of humor or anything, but like they are interested in more than just sex.

It's like, as long as I am wearing the stuff that stimulates me and others sexually, it overrides certain kinds of thinking... Kinda puts us in a more primal mode and stops us from being all that civilized.

I'll never circumcise any sons I have, but I wonder if that has an impact, too. Like, I love the feeling of my skin on the head of my dick as it pulls back... and as it slides back in place. I can't imagine not having that and the head just being out there all the time. Still, I've heard that being circumcised desensitizes the glans (the dick head)! Shit! Sounds bad, doesn't it? But what if the guys who are circumcised, and thus desensitized, aren't as distracted by sexual feelings as much? Maybe it's easier for them to focus on other stuff.

Damn! No, I am not going to get cut, but I am going to try harder to be more sensitive and thoughtful. Sex.... damn.... I love, LOVE! sex so much... Like I was made for it... my dick... like WAY more than MADE FOR SEX... seems like I've got GREAT sensitivity ALL along that massive thing... and especially inside and outside my foreskin... oh, and shit... my glans is like a gift from the gods...

But back to my thoughts about being more cerebral, it's not just about being in the student senate. I like feeling mental things happening in my brain and seeing others respecting how I think. So, different from sexual feelings, but still a nice... really good... feeling.

"Awesome! FUCKKKING Awesome!" My boyfriend is the student body president, and he didn't believe my lack of body hair was natural at first. Some close inspection convinced him though. His eyes have been right on the whisps of pubic hair I do have as he's deepthroated my huge dick. He can't take me up his ass, and he's too big for my ass; so, we aren't doing anal sex. The great thing is that he's totally into sucking my dick, and I've never had anyone give me better head than him. He's pretty amazing.

He's also the hairiest young guy I've ever known. He calls himself a "bear" even though he's pretty thin. I've been with hairier older guys, not that many, but I even fucked a guy with hair on his back before. He took it about as good as any guy I've ever fucked, and his hairy back didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Still, he was just another experience. I wasn't trying to find love then.

So, okay, I'm not really in love with my 21 year old student body president either. It's not like I am some political whore, though. He's not my boyfriend because of that, well, not exactly. I mean, I didn't even vote for him, but I don't tell him that. It's just that, yeah, we met as we were campaigning for our positions, and he started flirting with me even before the voting started. And even though he's way different from the guys I've fooled around with before, he's got a lot going on mentally. Madison, isn't that a great name for a president?

He says he's sucked about 30 different dicks and mine is the biggest by about 2 inches. I'm glad he has that much experience and damn, he is good! He gets everywhere on my body with his hands, tongue and lips, paying special attention to my jutting nipples and my smooth, sensual ass hole. Then he kinda zeroes in on my dick.

It's like a seminar on dick worship and I'm like a piece of clay attached to a hard fuck rod. He loves working my foreskin and the fact that I can be so freaking big and hard and still have some reaching beyond the head. He's up and down that thing from the top, sides, and bottom. He's sucking my balls into his hot mouth. He's stroking gently, but hard enough to make me practically black out... and then the mouth goes over it... a little at first... more.... more... then off and more play along the length of pleasure flesh... then... oh, god, then he takes it all in... yeah.
ALL. All of it gets in and down his throat... and he uses his lips, tongue and throat to give me the BEST blow jobs... I am like insane by the time he finishes me off. My hair looks like some kind of afro or something and I am too dizzy to stand up...

My dick, Jesus, always my dick. I mean I know it's unusually big, and I know I can minimize its appearance with compression shorts or tight underwear, but as fucked up as it sounds, I still like to let it show. That, of course, means that other people look at it... and then they want to see me naked... and then they want this monster dick in them or on them or bouncing around for them to stare at. It is so easy to be admired, to be wanted, to grab attention with this dick. It messes me up.

So, when someone likes something else about me, even if it's just another superficial thing like the color of my eyes or the way my nipples show through my shirt, I'm almost thankful that they notice them before my dick has a chance to suck away all of their attention. It really does that.

Somebody is looking at my eyes and I know they want to say something about their color (and often they do), but then I stand up or move away from what was blocking a view of my crotch. If they have never heard about me and don't know me, it may take a while, but eventually they see it. Then it's good-bye eyes, good-bye biceps or tan or nipples, good-bye intelligent conversaton, and HELLO
BIG
FUCKING
DICK!

I've had people stop talking, completely lose their train of thought. Yeah, oh yeah, some primitive, instinctual part of me loves it. Sure, there are plenty of people who don't skip a beat, act like they haven't noticed, don't care about it, are into other things. Still, the ones who pause when they see it (and sometimes it is even people who've seen it before, and it still takes their breath away!) react in so many different ways. A few say something, like "Fuck! You must never sleep alone!" (but I do, plenty) or "Is THAT real?" (yes, and it isn't even hard yet!). Others start talking again but they've launched into different topics or their voices sound nervous. One time a girl just looks at it, stops talking, stares for a beat or two, and just turns and walks away.

What I like best, I guess, is (if they can't help stopping in mid-sentence) then if they smile, and then go on with the conversation. I don't know why exactly, but it's like they've acknowledged that it is special, but they have their wits about them enough to value ME and the conversation we're having... and really, that's when I start feeling appreciated is when someone truly sees past the dick, the nipples, the tan, the muscles... all the physical things, whether I was just born with them or I've worked on them... and sees ME... sees into my heart, catches a glimpse of my soul, recognizes a kindred spirit, a stretching mind... THAT feels good in a whole different way from when they are practically mesmerized by my dick.

The other things that I can't control, but that some people respond to almost as ridiculously as my dick showing in my pants, are like where I live and who my parents are. "Shit, dude, your house is right on the beach? You must be rich!" or "Your dad is that surfer guy, right? He's so freakin' wild. I love his articles. Do you ever surf with him?" or "Are you a culinary genius like your mother? We dine at the Beverly Plaza frequently, and she is fabulous! She always comes to our table to see how we've enjoyed our meal. Please give her my regards." Get real, people! I'm more than the son of two locally sortof famous (not rich!) people who have a house on the beach in Malibu (the smallest, oldest one that hasn't been hugely remodled or "enhanced").

I am a talented fuck, yes, but I also am creative, artistic, and getting appreciated for things that have nothing to do with where my house is or who mom and dad are (or how fucking big my dick is). I guess I could get an apartment and pretend I don't know who my parents are, but college is expensive, and I'm not into pretending.

The nice thing about being with Elize before and Madison now is that I can still be me, but when people get too goo-goo eyed about my dick or my house on the beach (like, they don't know much about me, but the little they know has convinced them we should be together?), I can just say
I'm already taken. That is comforting in a strange way to me, and it seems to take the pressure off of most other people too. They relax like they don't have to try so hard to get into my pants, and they can let themselves get to know more about the rest of me.

Okay, yeah, there are always the ones who keep trying, but I can joke with them about it or ignore them if they get obnoxious. Those people seem to bug me more when I am "available" because it feels like I don't have a good reason for not having sex with them. Sometimes when I'm not "taken" I fuck them or let them give me head or play a little with them, even though I don't particularly want to, but mostly, I feel like I am having to fight them off... and that is awkward... and sometimes it's hard to be very polite. I guess I never really thought about that aspect of having a partner.

I am still not so into Madison that I wish California allowed gay marriage just for our sakes or that I want to get an apartment with him, even, but it is nice to know I've got someone sortof special in my life. It's not just how talented he is with my dick, or how popular he is at college, or even how much my parents like him. He listens to me, and he talks seriously with me, and we share real ideas. Sometimes we have conversations that take us each from an idea we had alone to an even better one we had together... like that old adage, "The sum of the parts is greater than the whole." I like it. I just wish I felt as much in love with him as I did with Elize.

Student Senate has been fun. Even if I wasn't getting blown regularly by the Student Body President, it would be fun. I'll have to share more about that later.

This is such a refreshing and intelligent change from most of the stories written here. I feel like I'm reading about a real person rather than a fictional character.

Your writing style is fluid. The conversational quality really makes the character come alive.

Kudos!

Thanks, Gill. Your kind comments are appreciated and inspire me to attempt to maintain a certain level in my fictional writing...

~

The jeans are faded and torn in some nearly revealing places. They are low rise and expose my wispy pubic hairs and the top third of my ass. Dick is clearly showing down my right leg. I'd love to go shirtless, but that would be pushing it; so, I pull on a tight t-shirt that clearly shows every ridge in my abs, the bulge of my pecs and the thrust of my nipples. It barely touches the top of my jeans and exposes my tanned ab and ass flesh whenever I move my arms even a little. Looking in the mirror, I am wishing I had arms just a little bigger, maybe pubic hairs that would actually show enough and curl over the top of the jeans, and hair that would stay in place after its combed. Still, I like the look and it gets me hard. The long bulge down my right leg gets longer and shifts enough for dick flesh to show through one of the holes.

Okay, I know it's crazy, or at least hypocritical, or at the very least shallow for me to be dressing this way after all that I have said about being mature and thinking and sensitive. I mean, I truly do value what people do with their intellect and how they express themselves publicly and privately... and now that I am something of a public figure, I feel an obligation to behave with maybe a little dignitas and gravitas. Then again I'm young, I know people enjoy looking at me, and since I'd rather be naked, wearing any clothes at all is a concession. So, I'm not naked, but I'm wearing jeans and a shirt that show almost as much as if I was. I try not to think about it too much as I leave the house.

At the store I'm getting smoothie supplies and snacks since my mother takes care of the main meals, even when she's not there to enjoy them with Dad and me. I know people are looking at me, and that's cool, but none of them are making me feel like they'd be worth making Madison jealous. Maybe he wouldn't even be jealous, we've never even talked about being "exclusive," and yet we've each managed to avoid other relationships since we got serious about each other. So, I feel satisfied that I've got someone, and that makes it easy to smile at people even when I'm not interested.

When I overhear two women complain to each other about what I'm wearing, I reach for a can of beans I don't need just to be sure the t-shirt is riding up and showing my ass and the lower abs clear down to just above my dick. One of them actually sucks in her breath. I keep a calm expression on my face and start toward the checkout.

Turning the corner at the end I see a guy coming toward me who makes ME suck in my breath. He's pushing a grocery cart, and so all that shows above it is his torso clad in a tight compression type tank top... I can't see his legs, but if they match his arms he's got to be some sort of competitive body builder... except he's not tan or tan colored, but then maybe he has someone to smear on the color when he competes. He's truly a magnificent looking man. Just the way his chest and lats flare out from what must be a tiny waist holds my eyes for a long second or two... and his arms... shit! I immediately find myself hoping he's going to be able to say he has done it without steroids.

Finally, I look at his face. It's like I am looking upon the face of Jesus, or Siddartha, or some spiritual person who isn't quite real like the rest of us. I mean, his face looks sortof tough, and he has a buzzed haircut, but his eyes look both wise and sad, almost tortured. He can't be that much older than me, but his eyes... now that he is closer, I can see that they are brown... his eyes look ancient... and they are looking at me.

He's got a beautiful face... a tough, guy, beautiful face. His lips don't quite smile, but as he gets closer, I can tell he is going to talk to me. God! I'm hardly ever shy, but this guy is intimidating! I want to act like we haven't made eye contact and walk on by... no, I want to be a slave for an hour or two answering his every wish... okay, I'm just a guy meeting another guy... and thinking a lot is possible.

"Hey, can you show me where you got that protein powder?" I look in my basket like someone else must have put the whey protein in there.

"Uh, sure. It's..." I start to point to where it is, but that's not what either of us wants. "I'll show you where. It's in the middle of the aisle, and it's easy to miss." Easy to miss if you aren't looking!

"Thanks, man. I need to grab some and go before my legs quit on me." I don't know what he is talking about. He is leaning on the cart and walking a little funny; so, I guess he's been to the gym and done legs today. When I've done legs, I usually don't feel it for a day or two, but he probably works out with more intensity than I do.

"You new to the neighborhood?" I try not to sound nervous, but I am not going to walk him to the protein powders and then take off.

"Yeah, I'm getting settled in so that I can start taking classes at the community college next semester."

"Cool! That's where I'm going!" I've started to relax, and by the time we're on the right aisle, we're so into talking about school and majors, we almost walk by the protein powders. I laugh, "I told you they were easy to miss."

Turns out he's got to call a taxi for his ride home; so, I offer to take him. His place is like just about the tiniest apartment I've ever seen, but it is super neat and totally like Spartan in its decoration... masculine but almost monastic with natural woods and fibers, calm, serene, like an example of living well without a lot of crap. The one thing that seems out of place is a Marines banner in the one bedroom... all red and gold and "Semper Fidelis." His sad eyes look at it, and I decide not to ask about it. Instead I compliment him on how comfortable and soothing his place is.

"Thanks," he says softly as he sits down on the bed. "Sorry, but I can't stand up anymore."

I look at him. He's unbuttoning his pants. Levi's that are tight around his muscle ass and a little loose around his tight waist. "Sorry," he says again, "I've got to do this." He's pushing his jeans down and I am admiring the bulge in his white boxer-briefs and the definition in his quads... then the jeans go farther and there are straps... and then plastic cup things... and bent shafts of metal instead of calves. "Sorry" he says so softly I almost can't hear him.

I keep my face impassive, but inside my head I'm seeing IEDs explode in a desert land far away and catching my breath. You could call me an equal opportunity fucker because I've been in just about every imaginable sexual scenario with just about every imaginable partner: guys, girls, Asian-Americans, African-Americans, Native-Americans, Euro-Americans, a soldier once, a war protester two days later.... just never an amputee before...

interesting twist I like it, but sad :(

Thanks, Yawgri. Life, even for the well endowed, has some sad moments. Sad, but part of our humanity is in seeing what is possible beyond the sadness.

~


Luke, his name is Luke, doesn't look at me as he unfastens his prosthetic calves. I feel like I should offer to help, but it seems to be important that he do this for himself. I'm trying to collect my thoughts. The last thing I want him to do is look up and see pity in my eyes. Should I ask what happened? Should I crack some joke? I'm speechless, thinking fast; time seems to have stopped...

One stump is exposed and it looks red and painful. "Shit!" I've said it before I can stop myself. Luke looks up at me. I don't know what he sees in my eyes, but he smiles.

"Yeah, 'shit' just about says it all, doesn't it?" He frees up the other stump. I don't want to look, but I do. It's not pretty. "Shit seems to be a word I've said a lot the last two years."

I'm trying to be sensitive, to be politically correct, to say the "right" thing, but what the hell is the "right" thing? Even when I was fourteen, I knew this war was a mistake. When the recruiters show up at my high school and at the community college, talking about duty, obligation, training, pride, respect, and the fucking GI Bill, they never see my eyes lighting up. Luke must have fallen for some of that somewhere along the line. Was he stupid, ignorant, fooled, or confused to go?

"Man," I say, "what do you want to tell me about what happened?" I'm trying out words that seem like they just might be the right ones. Maybe they will open him up, maybe they will piss him off.

He laughs; a little bitterness seems to be in that laugh. "I'd like to tell you nothing about what happened. I'd like to fucking not have a thing to say about what happened... Sorry, I'd like to not have had it happen and, so, have nothing to say... but it did." He seems calm, ok, in control, but I am imagining months of counseling going down the tubes.

"Tell me what you want to," I'm feeling more in control now. He's suffered, is suffering, I'm trying to help.

He gives me a long look. I stare into his eyes, mainly because that's what a man does, but also because I don't want to look at those stumps. "Okay," he says, "I'll tell you about it, but first I have to ask a favor." His eyes look sad again, almost frightened... like he's going to ask for something, and I might say no. "Get in bed with me, please, and hold me while I tell you."

I'm not sure if he means naked or not, under the sheets, or on the covers... Still, I nod my head, and... because it is both the most natural and the most frightening thing for me to do... I strip out of my clothes and climb onto the bed.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I've assumed he's seen my dick outline earlier, but maybe he has really been concentrating on my face... or the outline just hasn't prepared him for the reality. "You're going to have to 'tell me what you want to' about that thing when I get done with my story!" We both smile at that, and a little of the tension goes out of the room.

He hasn't taken off his tank top or boxer-briefs, and I am tempted to pull them off of him as I situate myself with my back to the padded headboard and move pillows to get comfortable. Still, his pride seems to be involved in ways I will never fully understand. I decide to let him wear or not wear whatever he wants. I do help him scoot back so that my legs are on each side of what is left of his and my arms can comfortably reach around and hold him. I don't think I've ever been with anyone this muscular, and I am wishing the tank top and underwear were gone...

"Thanks, Dan." The words are heavy with emotion, and I feel warm and good about doing this much to make him be so thankful. He lays his head back against my shoulder and the buzz hair cut tickles the side of my face. He takes a long breath. I tighten my arms around him a little, but his lats make it difficult to hold him too tightly. I could lower my arms, go below the flaring back muscles, but that would put my hands in his lap... not sure either of us is ready for that yet.

"So, I, um, I wanted to go to college, but I didn't think I could get an academic scholarship. I played football, but wasn't that good, didn't like the game enough to be that good, I guess... Took steroids to get bigger," I try not to flinch with disappointment, "got bigger, but my game didn't get any better. So, no football scholarship, and being a jock I'd kinda concentrated less on my grades than I should have. Shame is that I might have gotten better grades, maybe even good enough for a scholarship, if I'd tried a little harder."

I probably should just let him tell his story, but I'm not good at keeping my mouth shut. "How long did you do the steroids?"

I feel his muscles shift under my arms and against my chest. He chuckles a little. "Wondering if I am still doing them? It's okay, I'm not. I wish I'd never done them in the first place though. It's like I knew then that I was cheating, and ever since I've wondered how much they fucked with my thinking... and how much of this," he flexed a little, "I could have done without them. They kinda got me over a hump, but who knows if I couldn't have gotten over that hump eventually without them. Maybe I could have gotten to this size on my own without them, but now I'll never know."

I'm relieved that he isn't doing them anymore, but also sorry that we'll never know what training and determination could have done for him without the 'roids. He looks fantastic, and I am glad he's clean... maybe it is all natural now.

"So, yeah, I was this pumped up football player with no place to go. I kept doing the steroids thinking that maybe I could get into competition and win the money for college, but then a Marine recruiter started talking to me...." I feel his muscles tense a little.

"Okay, I know. Steroids are dangerous, and this war is fucked." He can feel me nod my head. "But I was into this whole 'ends justify the means' thing. Football was a means, then steroids were a means to that means... and it didn't work... so the Marines became the means.... and look... here I am, finally, a college student." Neither one of us laughs.

"We're driving our cars here and there, heating our houses and offices and cooling them, doing all this shit that uses oil from over there and it's heating everything up. I knew that even before I enlisted, but that's where I think the steroids helped fuck me over. I was seeing myself all manly and noble like the guys with swords in the Marines ads. I was thinking I'd look so totally the ultimate Marine and be smart, smarter than the typical leather neck. I wasn't going to be subversive, but I was going to help the other grunts be smart. I'd be paid to stay in top shape, and I'd go to college once I got out."

He doesn't talk for a while. I decide to add a note of levity... and compliment him too. "Where are your prerequisite Marine tattoos?" I for one, am glad he doesn't have any.

He grimaces. "This isn't enough Marine body art for you?" His lifts one stump and then the other. "Okay, okay, I was never a drinker. So, when the other guys were getting drunk and following it up with getting their tattoos, I was staying sober, and you don't want to get tattooed so much if you are sober. Oh, my buds tried to get me drunk, and they tried to get me to go to the tattoo parlors with them. You know, being a Marine is so much about being part of a brotherhood..." His voice sounds a little choked. "I never really fit in, but even so, I sometimes wanted to be more a part of it all..." He looks over at the banner. "Shit." He shakes his head. "I did think about it, but my body... my... my body has always been important to me. I convinced myself that the steroids were helping it look good, but I couldn't convince myself that tattoos would help...

"I also convinced myself that I was not going to be a statistic. I was not going to die over there..." He chokes a little again. "I didn't. I didn't die over there..." I feel a tear drop onto my arm. "Shit, shit, shit..." He's shaking, and I hug him a little tighter. "Sometimes... Sometimes I wish I had... Oh, I'm mostly glad to be alive, but..." He's shaking and sobbing, hardly the emotionless Marine.

"I killed people. Pointed my gun at them, pulled the trigger, watched them die." Sobs. I am horrified, but isn't killing what we ask Marines to do? I hug him and press my head to his. I can't tell him it's okay. It's not okay. Who am I to forgive him for crimes against humanity? What horrors we loose onto ourselves when we send our people to war! "They told me it was my job... what I had to do... be a killer... do justice... kill."

We rock back and forth for a while. I remember times when my dad or mom would rock me when I was little and frightened or hurt. I know my big dick is pressing into his back and around one side, but this is about comforting a fellow human being. It's rather refreshing to feel my dick touching someone else and not have it be sexual. I don't know any words. My arms and hands speak for me, speak of comfort, better days, future, redemption...

"Things got better, seemed calmer... One day, just like a normal day... it seemed normal... routine patrol... I don't remember exactly... two died... three wounded... me... I survived... like this..." I'm thinking maybe his tank top and boxer-briefs conceal other wounds... certainly there are the invisible ones. "Both of the guys who died were friends. One was my best bud... not quite the misfit I was, but different... not entirely the gung ho Marine either... hell, he was my lover. It wasn't easy to keep it totally DADT, but we managed... He was... He was the first guy... but I guess I've always known I was gay."

He's going to want to have sex with me, and I won't know how to say no to him after all he's told me. How can I deny him that affirmation when he so needs to feel like he can move forward, start over, be new?

We sit that way for a long time. Then I pull off his tank top. No scars on the surface, but what a fine surface it is. Smooth, muscled, pale skin for a guy in California... under different circumstances, I'd be so hard just looking at arms like his... or a chest... or serratus... or those lats... and his abs completely put mine to shame. We get between the sheets, hug and kiss. I'm naked and he's nearly naked and none of this is sexual. It's just human... human embrace, human comfort, human love. I'm not IN love with Luke, just loving him as a fellow human in pain. We fall asleep holding each other.

The morning brings the sex. I wake up with Luke licking my dick like a big popsicle. He's fascinated with the way the foreskin pulls back and then slides up again. Then he's sucking me. It's good, but not as good as Madison. Still, I'm enjoying it, and his body is like this sexual fantasy, muscles so close and full under the skin. When I come it's as much from seeing and touching his body as it is from his inexpert blow job.

Amazingly he's still wearing his underwear, but clearly his dick wants out. I pull them off, and there are no scars hiding there either. The explosion that took Luke's lower legs left the rest of him surprisingly untouched... on the surface. He's got dark brown pubic hair, lots more than me, but still not everywhere like some guys have. His dick is perfectly suited to his body, a great looking cock, but average... actually the perfect size for the blow job I bestow on him. After a couple of minutes, I stop and give each stump a kiss. It's weird, I couldn't think about it, I just did it... it felt right... and then he had one of those explosive orgasms when I finished him off. His cum was thick and slick and tasted like he must have eaten some sweet food with exotic spices recently... maybe the best cum I've ever swallowed.

We fall asleep again with my dick and one leg between his legs. The stumps are almost starting to feel natural to me.

When we wake up the sun is full up and shining in the window. We discuss the presidential race over breakfast. We don't agree on who should be president, but we do agree that our troops have to come home. He's all for bringing them home now, or as soon as the next president takes office. I'm thinking we screwed up going in in the first place, but we have to pull out in a responsible way... and that may take a little time... not years surely, but maybe up to a year or so. It's hard to say "wait" when more stories like Luke's will surely happen, but I don't see how we can go someplace yank out its supports and then leave it to pull itself back together.

With his jeans on and covering his prostheses, Luke could pass for "whole." He says good bye to me at the door that way... and shirtless. His V-shape goes down into his jeans so seductively, I almost push back into his apartment. I don't know if we'll get together again. We've exchanged cell numbers and e-mail addresses, but I've still got Madison... and Luke's still got demons... maybe fewer than before, but he's not yet entirely out of harm's way.

A couple of hours later I tell Madison about the encounter without going into a lot of detail about how fantastic Luke's body is. His reaction surprises me. "We have to include him in campus politics. He'll be a natural: a gay, double amputee vet." I'm not so sure. Maybe Luke wants to be a private citizen. Maybe he'll want to be with me more than Madison is comfortable with. Maybe we should let him decide if he wants to get that involved in college politics.

Mads keeps after me; so, I set up a meeting, and when he gets a load of Luke's body (he's wearing 501s again and a polo shirt, and he looks like some sad-eyed model), he gives me a look like he can't believe I didn't say how built this guy is. It's an amazing fit, though: Madison is all about action and Luke responds to being part of a plan. It seems to help him find his own comfort zone to have a structure.

Classes start, we become a team in the student gov. offices, and out. Suntanning nude on the deck, catching lunch at the student U, sleeping at each other's homes, and yeah, three way sex. It's easy to forget about Luke's wounds with so much going on. He's not complaining, his eyes don't always look quite so sad, but once in a while he grimaces or gets a far away look going.

The sex is great, fantastic. Two guys working over my dick and balls is amazing. They work out something of a team effort. There's certainly enough dick for them both to be on it, one sucking the end and the other licking it up and down, one on each side of it, one teabagging my balls and the other working the shaft or head. They seem to enjoy working me over: nips, ass, balls, dick, I'm like one big bundle of sexual nerves and they are all over it. Fucking fantastic! I'm so mind blowingly blown away when they finish me off, I'm like in a haze as I watch them fuck and suck each other. Their dicks and asses fit each other better than either of them does with mine. If I wasn't so satisfied already, I might be jealous as I watch them go nuts, one fucking the other. I know each body so well, I can almost feel what they do as they do it to each other.

Sometimes I touch them as they make love... yeah, it really is making love when they do it. I particularly like running my hands over Luke's pecs and abs. Depending on what they are doing, I may suck his nipples or lick his ass. If it feels like I'm focusing too much on Luke, I massage Madison's back or kiss him. They let me participate like that, but it's almost like they're just as happy to let me watch... and the watching is like way better than porn. Mads is still the best at giving head, but Luke is a quick learner. And I DO envy how easy it is for them to fuck each other... and how sensual it all is for them. I can't complain about the attention they give me, but their attention to each other is like watching them taking it up another notch or two.

Luke lets his hair grow out. It's silky soft, and I love the feel of it. He looks as masculine as ever, but not quite so tough. It's cool to see how people look at him, and he seems completely oblivious to their stares. He's like totally focused on our projects, our conversations, and just about anything Madison says. When the three of us are together it's like we are in a spotlight or something: Luke's body and handsome face, my dick, and Madison's status. It's not like Mads and I don't have good looks of our own, but Luke's got the MAJOR body and face looks.

It's a mix of feelings for me. I'm kind of used to people staring at me, and it's a little weird to find that sometimes they're looking at him instead, or Madison. That's cool, really, we are like a team, and no one can top the impression we make walking or talking together. Yeah, a lot of that is still based on what we LOOK like together, but we also have a chemistry thing going. People listen when we speak, apart or together. They respect our ideas. They trust our research, experience, and initiatives. The student senate passes our bills, the administration responds to our requests, the faculty board asks for our input. We each are being really conscientious and thoughtful when speaking on our own, but it's a real synergistic thing that happens when we take something on together.

Mads is the nominal leader, of course, but Luke and I each take the lead when it feels right. It's a unique kind of pleasure having people look to one of us for that role, and I know when it's me I try to push for what is RIGHT, not just for the power of control. I think both of the other guys feel the same way. Luke still tends to take a back seat, and Madison still steps up first most of the time. It's not really like a competition, more like an innate sense when it's just someone's and not someone else's ball to carry into the end zone. We make a special team.

Since Luke's apartment is closest to campus, Madison and I have keys so we can study or nap there between classes. I try not to impose too much on his hospitality, but Luke always seems happy to see me come through the door if he's there. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we just do what we have to for classes or the senate. At some point during the semester the Marines banner comes down, and it's like the apartment loses something sharp and becomes even more comfortable. Sometimes, if all three of us are there, we head to the bedroom and more mind blowing sex, and I enjoy the poster of a buff naked guy that's replaced the banner as we undress. If it's just two of us, we might hug or touch or even kiss without getting sexual. I'm comfortable with it that way... mostly... until I come in one time, and I hear them in the bedroom.

I guess I've come in quietly, not on purpose, but maybe they are too into their love making to hear me. Maybe they won't have stopped even if they have heard me. I don't sneak down the hall, but those sounds and that poster pull me down the short hall. I stop before I can look in and see them. It's almost like the nude in the poster is remembering a recent particularly excellent sexual encounter. He stands there in sepia and the sounds of pleasure are so compelling...

I look around the corner. The scene is familiar enough. Luke's stumps are waving in the air, Madison's ass is pumping in and out. Their bodies are writhing together in a sinuous dance of love. It is really quite beautiful to watch, and I do just that. I watch. I am not a part of this, just an observer... and as I watch, observe, I see the obvious. These two men are in love.

Ahhh :( well thats also another sad ending of sorts or maybe a progresson. Keep up the good work.

[Thanks again, Yawgri.]


The Student Senate is probably like a teacher's nightmare in some respects. One person is standing making a speech or proposing something, and all through the lecture hall where we meet other senators are texting each other (or someone somewhere else), writing notes on paper (because some of us turn off our cells), or having conversations. It's rather gratifying to see that a lot of that does stop when I am speaking, but even when Madison is talking, a little of that stuff is still happening. It seems disrespectful, or at least not the best way to pay attention, but somehow we do get our business done.

Luke has become like the unofficial page or something. He's almost always at our meetings, running errands or just watching Mads. Once he rolls in in his wheelchair (his prostheses can start to hurt sometimes). I guess a lot of people know already that he is a double amputee, but some obviously don't. It's like there's this pause... and then everything gets going again. It's a really cool wheelchair, one of those you can use in races and other sports.

Most of the time, Luke just looks like this incredibly built and handsome student who is interested in what we are doing and in helping.... and who is in love with Madison. One time they kiss. It isn't like in front of everybody, but a few other people do see them. It makes me kinda proud of them... I guess now I do have a personal reason for wanting California to legalize gay marriage or some kind of domestic partner thing.

They really do complement each other. Madison, the one who is always pushing to DO something, sometimes without thinking it all completely through. Luke, the soul, if you will, the one who points out long term consequences or spiritual aspects to things. I love them both and the way they together are something extraordinary.

We still do three ways once in a while, but it's more like they haven't figured out how to ignore my big ol' cock and they still want to include me in the love... It's nice, but it's not something we do that much anymore.

I've actually started dating a girl from one of my classes. We don't fuck for like the first 4 or 5 times we go out. It is really so cool to just be getting to know each other and let the fucking come later, but then I am getting so freakin' horny; so, one night I wear the same jeans and t-shirt I did the time Luke and I meet. Man! She's like... I don't know... she's trying hard not to look because she's so into ME, I mean, you know, the me who she's been getting to know? And here's this body... and this DICK... all there... can't be ignored. I am almost wishing I've worn less revealing clothes... almost... and then she just... says, like "you CANNOT wear shit like that around me and get away with it!"

"Wha..." I don't know what she means, and then she smiles.

So, we have this fantastic exploration session. You know? Like, she gets to see all of my unusual physical characteristics up close and personal... and she totally loves it all... totally! Still, she has NEVER had a dick as big as mine anywhere NEAR her pussy. It's not going in there, or her mouth, or her ass for that matter. She just fucking looks at it and touches it and watches it go from soft to hard and plays with the foreskin... and yeah, she's got that same curiosity about my nipples and my biceps and my completely hairless ass... she looks everywhere and at everything! It's not like I am a specimen in a lab, really... it's more like she's already had a chance to appreciate the ME inside and now here's all this surprising and fun stuff on the outside... She's like a kid in a candy store.

I let her do that for a while, but I am getting her clothes off of her too... and Man! She's like so different from every other girlfriend I've ever had. These perfect tits... small, but firm and round and smooth and so... so wonderful to touch. Nipples on them like totally out of proportion! They stick way into my mouth when I suck on them... Oh, yeah! When I see them they just have to have my mouth on them!

And she's like average height for a girl, and she's not model thin or "chunky" either, just like... soft, female, touchable... yeah, really touchable. And pubic hair a lot like mine, doesn't really show up much and not much there... no stubble under her arms or on her legs, but she's got to shave them because they are so completely smooth.

If my tongue was a dick, it'd come just sliding into her pussy! The little bit of hair there is like so fine and soft and really, almost NOT there... and the lips are like so smooth and firm and ... inside is so hot and silky... a clit like a little tiny dick and a vagina like a little slick slot... just waiting for the right dick to slide in there... or tongue! She has the best orgasms! I seriously think I could give up on putting my dick in just to keep enjoying how she comes with my tongue and with my finger! Really!

Okay, so the dick has to go somewhere, and over the next couple of weeks, we do start exploring THOSE possibilities too. So far we've only worked up to her being able to get the head in her mouth and the head and about seven inches into her pussy. I'm not so sure we'll ever get much more in there, but what we've got is still so fantastic. It's like we get along so well physically, despite all the difficulties because I am so big, because we get along so well as people, humans... intelligent, THINKING beings...

I am no fortune teller, and I can't see the future. Still, I know some things I want to see. Luke and Madison in some formalized permanent relationship, maybe even with an adopted child or two. Us out of Iraq and treating other nations in the world like equals we don't always agree with, not children we have to force into compliance. Me married, don't know yet if it will be with Michelle or someone else, but securely united with someone who I can comfortably and lovingly spend the rest of my life with...

Like, maybe we wait until we're twenty-five or so to get married. You know? So that we're sure we're mature and in love enough to be really doing the right thing. Then we wait about five years to have our first child, one we conceive and nurture through the pregnancy, playing classical music, talking to him or her, laughing, and making sure the endorphines are often present... giving that first child the best possible beginning we can in the womb and after.

Maybe doing it again a few years later, or maybe we start adopting, giving children who haven't had the same chance for a great beginning what we can to help them be happy, loved, connected citizens of the world.

Yeah, I started this thread with a "poor me" dirge thing going, but I am ending it with an ode to how fortunate I am. It's not about my dick or my body or where I live. It's about who I am and what I can do... and what I choose to do. I choose to use everything I've got, both endowed and cultivated, to help us all live in a healthier and happier world.

Let it start here and now with me... and if it has started elsewhere and with someone else, let me be a strong part of it. Let the circles of influence radiate out, touching this sphere and the creatures living on it at every level.

I am the right man at the right time to alter the course of history. I won't do it alone, and I won't always be the one who is seen or known, but I'll be there. Men and women will follow my example, give me guidance, nurture and inspire me.

What I do matters.

Very nice...I kind of feel though that this is the end? Interesting writing though. I like it a lot.

The recent State Supreme Court decision and the resultant marriages have made things rather interesting in California!

I must have missed that....*goes to the internet*.