My Date with Two Brothers...and their Dad

Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas, November 1984

During my horrible year in Hell-fer-Sartain, the worst place in the world, I tried to find a boyfriend by placing a personal ad in The Montrose Voice:

But most respondents lived in the Montrose, an hour away in Houston.  Others lived even farther away, in far-flung southern suburbs, even in Galveston. So I was overjoyed to hear from someone who lived only about 10 miles away (a half-hour drive in Houston traffic).

Jack said he was 24 years old, a little older than me, an English major at the University of Houston, with exactly my interests: literature, science fiction, classical music, languages, and foreign travel.  Plus, he said, he had a bodybuilder's physique and a Mortadella+ beneath the belt.

That was probably just "personal ad" bragging. But I didn't care. I would have accepted a date with a garden troll that was male, breathing, and less than an hour away.

He said he was laid up with a broken leg, and couldn't go out.  So I drove out to the house, a weird gray Tudor surrounded by crazy thin acacia trees and a bare mud lawn.

The door opened before I got to the front porch.  A shirtless guy stood in the doorway: short, compact, dark-skinned, just my type.  But definitely not 24.  Probably a teenager.

"I'm Eric, Jack's brother," he whispered.  "Keep your voice down -- my stepfather is asleep.  This way."

Brother!  Stepfather!  I thought we'd be alone!

He led me to the kitchen, and up a staircase to the attic.  It was now a messy bedroom: twin beds, both unmade; clothes scattered all over the floor; posters of Duran Duran, George Michael, and Rob Lowe.

One of the beds was occupied by another teenager, wearing only a bathrobe.  His leg was in a cast.  He was short and compact, but thin, no bodybuilder.

"I'm Jackie," he said.  "Sorry I can't really go anywhere.  But we can talk here...and stuff," he added with a leer.

I couldn't help asking, "Are you really 24?"

"Well, 20.  That's close.  And Eric is 18.  He's a senior."

Five years younger than me --  not a big deal. Maybe I could date Eric instead?

 "But I like girls," Eric added. "Jack and me never fool around together."

Jackie smiled evilly and reached out to stroke his basket.

"Ok, we fool around sometimes," he admitted, somewhat flustered.  "But I still like girls better.  Can I get you a soda?"

"Sure, Coke would be great."

He left.  There were no chairs, so I had no choice but to sit on the bed next to Jackie.  He quickly put his hand on my upper thigh.  I saw that he had "accidentally" left his bathrobe open.

"I'm not...really into tricking," I said (the old word for "hooking up").  "My ad was more for relationships. That's why I mentioned my interests in literature and music and...."

"I'm into music, too.  Who do you like the most?  I like Wham."

After more dismal conversation with a thin, naked kid with no interest in literature or classical music, Eric re-appeared with two cans of Coke and set them on the nightstand.  "Boomer, you want to see something cool?  Follow me."

He led me down the stairs and into the master bedroom, where Stepdad was asleep: Hispanic, in his 30s, very muscular.  He had kicked the covers off.  He was obviously having an erotic dream.

"Watch this!" Eric whispered.  He went to the bed and fondled Stepdad for a few moments. Then he pushed me down.  Stepdad drew me into an embrace.  Without waking up.

Which was admittedly erotic.  But:  Help! This is too weird!

I tore myself away and rushed out the door.  Eric followed.  "Don't freak -- I do it all the time," he whispered.  "He never wakes up.  Except sometimes I think he's just pretending to be asleep. You know..."

He put his arms around me. Soon we were kissing and doing other things in the hallway outside Stepdad's bedroom.

Which was admittedly erotic.  But: Help!  This is too weird!

I disentangled myself.  "Shouldn't I be getting...um...back upstairs," I stammered.

"Sure.  Jack must be getting lonely by now."

He followed me back up the stairs to the attic room, where Jackie had gotten completely naked.  I sat down on the bed, thinking that Eric would leave.  No -- he pushed me into a kiss with his brother.  Then he started undressing me.

Which was admittedly erotic.  But: What am I doing?  Two brothers, one straight, one into tricking, with Stepdad asleep but grabby downstairs?  

I made an excuse and went home.

I have often wondered what would have happened if I had stayed.  Would I be in a relationship with all three?

See also: Three Guys in My Bed in Baltimore.; Lane has a three-way with his boyfriend and his brother; Sausage Sighting of a Father, Son, and Grandson

Nude Photos of John Manning and His Beefcake Brothers

Here are some nude photos of 1950s Physique Pictorial model John Manning and at least one of his brothers.

A standard 1960s studio shot of John, emphasizing his plus-size penis.

John as an Indian, a rare color photo by Bruce of Los Angeles.

John and his regular co-model James Selig.

John on the left, and the guy on the right is reputedly his brother Jim.

The full article is on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding

Gay Identical Twins

Lots of people tell me that they have fantasies involving identical (or monozygotic) twins, men who developed from the same zygote (egg) and therefore look the same.  I guess the fantasy is to have the "same guy" working on both ends?

Easier said than done.  Monozygotic twins appear in only about 3 of every 1,000 births.   Women are more likely to have twins if they're of West African ancestry, of greater than average height and weight, and already mothers.

But  identical twins are not really identical.

Genetic changes occur during early fetal development.  That's why some identical twins have a gay and a straight brother.

Life experiences -- differences in activity, nutrition, exposure to contaminants -- result in more changes, even at the genetic level.

Unless they work at it, identical twins stop looking identical by adulthood.

I've never met a pair of gay identical twins, but here's some pictures.  Notice the differences in face and physique.

At least the beneath-the-belt gifts look the same.

My Favorite Photos of Naked Brothers

It's common for brothers growing up together to "experiment" with sex -- there's no incest taboo when there's no possibility of a pregnancy.

I've never done anything with my brother, or wanted to, but I love pictures of brothers together.  Here are 10 of my favorite photos (presumably brothers based on the resemblance).

1.  One brother nude and rather proud of himself, the other in silly flowered shorts.

2. A trio with their cocks out.  The one on the left is heavily tattooed and the most muscular of the lot. There's a classic car behind them.

3.  Duo nude selfies.  The one on the right is older, and slightly better hung, but they're both gifted in that department.

4. Hurley, whatever that means, with serious expressions and huge uncut cocks.

5. Dig the old-fashioned curtains and the Russian Orthodox icon.  I think the right and the left guys are brothers, and the middle is one of their boyfriends, with a huge ginger cock.


More after the break.

Hookup with Brothers at the Dentist's Office

Plains, June 2017

The Wednesday after my return from Amsterdam, I'm at the oral surgeon's office, waiting to get a wisdom tooth removed.

It's a more delicate procedure than you might think.

No solid food or exercise for the next 48 hours.

On the third day, I can try jogging and eating normally, but nothing with granules (rice, potato chips) for a couple of weeks.

Antibiotics and two pain medications, one narcotic.

No "sucking" for at least a week.  The oral surgeon probably means through a straw, but I imagine no oral, either.

While I am sitting in the waiting room, a woman comes in with her two sons.  I can't tell which is older.

Brother #1 is not exactly a supreme beauty, but he's very, very cute: shorter than me, slim, with a round open face, short black hair, prominent eyebrows, high cheekbones, dimples, and square workman's hands.

He's wearing a black t-shirt, short pants (no bulge), and sandals.

He sits on the side of his mother farthest from me,  immersed in nonstop texting.

Brother #2 is tall, with a square face, sharp features, glasses, and a slim physique.  He's wearing a button-down shirt with a white undershirt visible underneath, slacks (no visible bulge), and orange shoes.

He gives me an obvious face-crotch-face cruising gaze, then sits down to fill out a form.

Remembering when I have been cruised at doctor's offices before -- at the sports doctor, while waiting for a colonoscopy -- I wonder if I can follow through and land a date or a hookup.

Problem: he's with his mother and brother.  Not much maneuvering room.

Another problem: I'll be called any minute.

I check Grindr on my cell phone, on the off chance he's there.  Nope.

Brother #2 finishes the form and drops it off at the receptionist's desk.  I go up to pretend to ask where the bathroom is, and try to check his name.

All I can see in a brief glance is "Oliver."

I look back -- Oliver is watching me.  He smiles.

Since I asked, I have to actually use the bathroom.  It's out in the hallway, shared with the insurance agency next door -- one urinal, one toilet, one sink.    I go in, pretend to urinate, turn to wash my hands -- and Brother #1 is there!

"Hi," I say, startled.

He stands there -- waiting for me, of course.  I slide past him to the sink.  He still stands there waiting, nervous.

"Your brother's getting some dental work done," I say. "That must be a bummer.  No potato chips or pizza for a week."

"I guess."  He's staring at the floor.

I brush past him again to get a paper towel, accidentally touching his shoulder.

"Excuse me."

He doesn't respond.

I go back into the waiting room.  Oliver, the one who cruised me, is gone.

A moment later, my name is called.

I spend Thursday and Friday at home, eating ice cream, mashed potatoes, and protein shakes and not getting any exercise.   On Saturday my friend and I go to the campus hangout for breakfast -- eggs ad pancakes, but no toast.  I think I see Oliver at one of the other booths (it's a small town), but I'm not sure.  He doesn't cruise me.

That afternoon, I go on Scruff to see if there's anyone nearby.

There isn't, but I have a message from one those blank profiles.  Usually I ignore them, but today he says: "Hi, I saw you at the dentist the other day.  I like older guys.  Do you want to get together?"

It must be Oliver!

"Sure, I remember you!"

He introduces himself as Bob, not Oliver -- must be one of these skittish "discrete" guys.  I don't usually hook up with guys trapped in a pre-Stonewall closet, but the circumstances -- the dentist's office, the almost encounter at the restaurant -- make it intriguing.  It's almost like fate wants us to be together.

Bob is 19, a sophomore at the University studying economics, living with his parents and two brothers.

"I can't use my mouth for kissing or whatever for another few days," I tell him,  "Can we make it Tuesday?"

I arrive at the gay-friendly coffee house 15 minutes early.  Picking up a twink is no big deal, but this has a special feel to it, a sense of destiny.

I'm nervous about my sexual performance.  I tried to eat a banana earlier, and could barely get my mouth around it.  A small penis will probably be ok, but if he's hung, I'm out of luck.

He's ten minutes late.  I'll give him another ten, and then chalk him up as a no-show.

The gay-friendly coffee house has two doors.  I keep looking back and forth, pretending to be nonchalant.

Suddenly Brother #1 comes in through the far door!  He stands by the pastry counter, looking at the scones and cookies.

When Oliver shows up, he'll see his brother, get skittish, and leave!  I have to get him out of there!

I walk over and say "Hello.  Remember me?"

He grins and grabs my shoulder "Sorry I'm late.  I had to wait until Mom left.  Is this really a gay place?"

Wait -- my date is with Brother #1?

The one who was busy texting in the waiting room, and ignored me in the bathroom, and never cruised at all?

A big surprise, but not unwelcome -- Bob was by far the cuter brother.

It will be a few more days before I can get my mouth around his uncut Bratwust, but he was fine with interfemoral and kissing.

And it turns out that his brother Oliver is bi.  Maybe there's a brother three way in the future.

See also: The Weirdest Place to Pick Up a Twink

Meeting Six Guys at Freshman Orientation

Plains, June 2016

I never do anything erotic in my office.  It's down a narrow corridor, with six other offices right there, and thin walls so everyone can hear everything.

But earlier this week I made an exception. I figured it was safe enough, during a tornado.

It was Freshman Orientation:hundreds of newly-admitted students and their families were getting tours of the campus, going to advising meetings, checking out the gym, and talking to me, starstruck over meeting a Real College Professor..

Here are the six guys I met.  You have to decide which one I hooked up with

1. The Tan Dad

8:30 am:  As I am walking across campus from the parking lot, I see a family standing around a map, looking confused: teenage girl, mom, and the dad: in his mid 30s, deeply tanned and heavily muscled.

I stop, introduce myself, and give them directions to the library.  Turns out that Tan Dad and company have come all the way from California: daughter had some kind of sports scholarship.

"I lived in West Hollywood for ten years," I tell them.  "It's been quite a culture shock."

2. The Tenting Texter

8:45: There is a boy sitting in the lounge area of my department, texting on his cell phone.  Rather thin, androgynous, tenting in his short pants.  He sees me and quickly covers up.

"The secretary is out today.  Can I help you?"

He's planning to major in one of the sciences or social sciences, but he doesn't know which.  I give him some brochures.

"Our program is all about diversity," I tell him.  "Injustice based on race, religion, social class...and sexual orientation."

The sexual orientation always makes them nervous if they're straight.  The Tenting Texter grins at me: "Well, I'm all about diversity."

3. The Bear Dad

10:00: a group of faculty sit on stage in the big auditorium, talking to the parents of the newly admitted freshmen and answering questions. Mostly husband-wife pairs, sometimes with a kid tagging along.  But the Bear Dad is sitting alone; either the wife couldn't make it, or he's single.

He's in his 40s, tanned, slightly graying, muscular, his pecs swelling against his white dress shirt.  Unbuttoned three buttons, revealing a nice hairy chest.

He asks about online courses.

"I teach online all the time," I tell him.  "It's anonymous, you don't get to know the students, and they don't get to know you.  I much prefer on-site courses, or a hybrid."

.




4.  The Surfer

10:45.  Now it's time to meet in small groups with the students, and answer any of their questions.

My group consists of five girls and four guys, one a blond beach boy in a white muscle shirt with a surfing logo.

"Um...sorry, we don't have a surfing team here," I say.  He laughs.

Then he asks about "what ticks off professors."  I want to say something like "coming to class with your shirt on," but of course I play it cool.

5. The Big Brother

12:00: The faculty all get a free lunch in the cafeteria, so we can eat freshmen and their families and answer questions.  I wave at the Tan Dad and Surfer from before, but they're already sitting with someone.  I choose two guys, both in their teens or twenties.  One is probably Hispanic, with dark skin and black hair.  The other is a ruddy blond Anglo.

"Which of you is the father?" I ask.

The Hispanic guy laughs.  "We've been getting that all day.  I'm the Big Brother."

"My mom and stepdad couldn't be here," the Anglo says, "So he gets the job of keeping me out of trouble."

"Or getting you into trouble," Big Brother adds.  "So, what's the craziest thing that ever happened in one of your classes?"

6. The Volleyball Player

2:00.  It's raining outside, so I head for the campus gym and jog around the indoor track.  Downstairs there's a volleyball game going on.  Mostly girls, but two boys, one white, one Asian, who don't seem to mind playing a "girl's sport."

As I circle the track, he looks up.  Our eyes meet.  Twice.

Then he's gone.

Then suddenly he's jogging alongside me.

"Hi, are you a professor?" he asks.  "I have a couple of questions."

Turns out he's a transfer student from a college out east, here to play volleyball and major in Native American Studies, with a minor in Gender Studies.

The Tornado

3:00: I return to my office.  Occasionally freshmen or their families or both drop by to ask more questions or get some brochures.  They're wet -- it's raining hard.

4:00 I'm having a very nice, nearly cruisy conversation with one of #1-6, above, when a loud buzzer goes off and a voice says "Tornado Warning.  A tornado has been sighted near our city.  Take shelter immediately."

The guy looks around in alarm.  "Where is the shelter?" he asks.

"Well, there's a shelter in the basement of this building, but my office is in a corridor inside another corridor, so you can't get much safer.  You might as well sit it out here.  I have snacks and sodas, and I can get you on the wi-fi."

We sit on the couch.  He texts his family to tell them where he is, and then starts watching a movie.  I put my arm around him to see better.  Soon we're kissing and fondling.

The tornado warning is extended three times -- we can't leave until about 5:30.  By that time he's gone down on me once, and I've gone down on his impressively thick Bratwurst+ twice.

Ok, ready to guess who it was?

1. The Tan Dad
2. The Tenting Texter
3. The Bear Dad
4. The Surfer
5. The Big Brothr
6. The Volleyball Player

Answer after the break

Lane Has a Three-Way with His Brother

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