The Peter & Charlie Trilogy

by Gordon Merrick

  “Come here. Let me see,” Jean-Claude begged, his eyes on it.

  Charlie moved back to the side of the bed. “Help yourself.” He put his hands on his hips while Jean-Claude pulled the pouch down. His sex curved out heavily in front of him, partly aroused not by Jean-Claude but by associations with the past. Jean-Claude lunged across the bed and dropped his feet to the floor and took it in his mouth. Let him work for it, Charlie thought. These preliminaries were the greatest obstacle to carrying out his intentions; he still wasn’t sure that he could function with Jean-Claude. He felt the stimulation of his mouth beginning to have an effect and thought of Milly insisting on seeing him with an erection before he would go to bed with him. Milly had been a bellboy in a hotel where Charlie had spent a night in sexual sport. Everything had become sex by then. Milly had appeared in response to Charlie’s request for valet service. He was wearing glasses, but his velvet, almost beardless skin was stretched taut over finely modeled bones and his slim, trim body was appealing in his tight uniform. Charlie had casually let his robe fall open while giving his instructions. He was wearing nothing under it. In a few minutes, Milly was back. Charlie answered his knock and he slipped swiftly into the room.

  “If you’ll forgive me for putting it so bluntly, sir,” Milly had said without ado, “would you let me look at your cock again?” His face was impassive and his gaze level.

  Charlie had burst out laughing at the unexpectedness of it and at the neat, precise manner in which he had phrased his request. “Again?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. I’m aware of the favor you were doing me just now, but it threw me off balance at the time. You might say I was blinded. If I’m correct in supposing that you were inviting me to bed, it’s most important for me to see if you satisfy my extravagant requirements. It’s an obsession, sir.”

  Charlie laughed again, amused at the stateliness of his speaking style. “I don’t see how you can tell anything unless I have an erection.”

  “Couldn’t that be managed, sir?”

  (Remembering the absurdly challenging moment still excited him; he could feel things happening as Jean-Claude’s mouth continued its efforts.)

  “How?” he had demanded. “With me just standing here and you staring at me like an owl?”

  “I’m sorry about the glasses, sir. In private, I don’t wear them. I don’t know whether it shows yet, but I’m getting an erection. I would be delighted if I had the same effect on you.”

  Charlie’s eyes dropped to the tight pants. They had developed a strong jut. “You do.” He pulled open his robe again and let it drop off him. “That’ll give you a rough idea,” he said. There was a brief silence. Charlie saw the jut of the tight trousers grow more pronounced.

  “My word,” the boy breathed at last. “I can’t imagine why anyone would hesitate to display that. I’m nothing much in your department, but I have a very pretty ass.”

  “Very. I hope I pass the test.”

  “Oh, goodness, sir. You must forgive me. I feel like a complete idiot.”

  Thoughts of Milly afterward, when he had discarded the speech pattern he had invented for his job and had chatted happily in his arms, helped him now with Jean-Claude. He was being coaxed into erection. He remembered Milly’s laughter at the moment of climax, laughter of joyful abandonment, and the final surge came that left him fully aroused at last. Jean-Claude released him with a gasp. “I can’t any more. It’s so enormous.”

  “Peter can,” Charlie said harshly. “Never mind. We’ve had enough of that.”

  “But look,” Jean-Claude held it upright against Charlie’s body. “It goes up almost to your chest.”

  Charlie pulled his hands away and gripped it at the base and whipped it back and forth across his face. “I can beat you with it, too.”

  “Aie!” Jean-Claude cried out with delight. “It’s so hard. It hurts.”

  “You’re damn right.”

  “You’re like a bull.” Jean-Claude gazed spellbound. “I didn’t know a man could be so big. It is terrifying and thrilling. Peter is not like that. Do you think I can take it all inside me?”

  “I’m sure of it. You strike me as a boy who was born for cock, the bigger the better.”

  Jean-Claude smiled with smug satisfaction. “I think I’m finding out that you are right. But you will be gentle?”

  “With you?” He looked at him coldly and saw a little shiver of anticipation run over the boy. He picked up the lubricant and held it out. “You’d better get yourself ready.”

  “But I have already.”

  “Then put some on me. Not too much. I want you to feel this.” He waited while Jean-Claude open-mouthed with lust, caressed it onto him, feeling all his muscles tensing for the assault. He would annihilate him and leave him screaming for more. Jean-Claude would never know another day’s peace as long as he lived. Now.

  He knocked the tube out of his hand and seized his hair and flung him over. He pulled him up more onto the bed and knelt over him, straddling him, and guided his sex between his buttocks. Jean-Claude cried out as he entered him, but his body strained up to take him. Charlie thrust savagely into him, encountering the obstruction he knew and expected. His knowledge of anatomy was slight, but there was always a point that had to be passed before his sex could move freely within his partner. It was a moment for caution and restraint, but he exercised neither now. He drew back and thrust harder and Jean-Claude cried out again. He continued the savage pressure and Jean-Claude screamed as he felt himself break through the barrier and plunge into him.

  “You are so big,” Jean-Claude sobbed.

  “You don’t have it all yet.” He grappled with Jean-Claude’s hips to complete the penetration.

  “Bigger even than you look,” Jean-Claude cried.

  Charlie made another hard thrust and he felt all of his sex take possession. He rested briefly, waiting for Jean-Claude’s sobs to subside. He withdrew slowly while a wail swelled in Jean-Claude’s throat. He forced a long, uninterrupted entry and took possession again.

  “You are a bull raping me,” Jean-Claude shouted ecstatically.

  Charlie liked the classical reference. He sat back on his heels, pulling the boy’s hips to him. His body sprawled before him, his arms flung out in total surrender. “There. You’ve got it all. You like it, don’t you?”

  “Oh, God. You have torn me apart. You are a great steel sword. You will kill me.”

  “You just wish I would.” He worked the hips with his hands so that Jean-Claude rode his sex, impaled on it. Charlie sat back and let himself be used. Feet beat on his back. Jean-Claude began to babble in French, reiterating the word “amour.” Sure. Love. Love to him was a big cock up his ass. Jean-Claude began to moan in rhythmic accompaniment to the movement of his hips. In a moment, the moans became shouts and suddenly his whole body was convulsed with an orgasm.

  “Oh come! Come into me. Come!” he shouted.

  Charlie flung himself down on him and drove hard into him until the boy was sobbing again and he had completed his rape with his orgasm.

  He tore himself out of him and went to the bathroom he had seen through an open door. He found a shower stall. He washed himself blindly, thinking of the sobbing boy he had left on the bed. He could do anything with him now. His slave. The word aroused memories. Tony, the hustler with the Botticelli angel’s face, who claimed to be the best cocksucker in town. Tony had been his first betrayal of Peter, as Milly had been his last. He hadn’t attempted to keep count of how many there had been in between. Tony had never been taken in Charlie’s way, but had asked for it.

  “Jeez,” he had sighed when it was over. “I wouldn’t let most guys. I feel like your slave.”

  “How so?”

  “Jesus. The way you’re built. When you were inside me, Christ. If a guy can let you do that, he’s got to be your slave.”

  And for a while he did belong to Charlie in a way. He let Charlie arrange his hair more simply. He let Charlie teach him how to dress. He
suggested bringing other boys to Charlie for “some nutty sex” as a precaution against falling in love. “It’s no good for a faggot to fall in love. At least, not this faggot. A hustler’s got to be free. I’d get a bang out of watching you fuck other guys. We could try it all different ways.”

  That had been the beginning of what Charlie remembered as a sort of delirium of sex.

  He stood under the shower and called Jean-Claude’s name. He appeared in a moment and stood gazing at him, his eyes full of tearful awe. He stepped forward and seized Charlie and put his mouth on his. Charlie drew back and slapped his face hard. “If I want you to kiss me, I’ll let you know.”

  “Yes, mon amour,” he murmured. “You’re so overwhelming. Next time, I won’t come so quickly. I want it to go on and on. I’ve looked at you often, but I never imagined it could be like that. I can still feel you all inside me. It hurts. I will never want anybody but you.”

  Charlie smiled up at him. “Unless you find somebody bigger.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that. I’ve seen some that would amaze you.” He lifted his fist. “How would you like something like that in you?”

  Jean-Claude’s lips parted. “Please, mon amour. I want to think only of you.”

  “Not Peter?”

  “Oh, no. I didn’t know. He was the first. I didn’t know it could be like that.”

  Charlie pushed him under the shower and soaped the lush body thoroughly. He pulled him out and handed him a towel. Jean-Claude let himself be handled like a child. They dried themselves, Jean-Claude’s eyes unwaveringly on him.

  “You’re wonderful to look at. You look so strong.”

  “I’m strong enough,” Charlie said. Whips would be the next item on the agenda. An idea occurred to him. He went to the washbasin and found a razor. “Come here.”

  Jean-Claude moved promptly to him. “What are you doing?”

  Charlie rubbed a little soap on the straggle of hair on Jean-Claude’s chest and, with a few strokes of the razor, removed it. He wiped the chest with a towel. “There. You look like a statue. Statues don’t have hair. Come on.” He lifted an arm and began to soap the armpit.

  He tried to pull his arm away. “Not there. People will see. They’ll laugh at me.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course they’ll see. You’ll start a new fashion.”

  He made no further protest and Charlie went to work with the razor. As he did so, he thought of Milly’s hairless body, Milly, dead all these years. Millard Potowski. Killed in action. Charlie’s name and address had been found among his papers, requesting that he be notified. He had often wondered what sort of performance he had chosen to give as a soldier. Whatever it had been, he must have entered into it enthusiastically, to the point of dying. When he had completed the armpits, he held both arms up and studied the effect. “Great. Now you look the way you ought to look. Your body shouldn’t be all cluttered up with hair. Come here.” He would put his mark on him everywhere before he left him. He sat on the edge of the bidet and pulled Jean-Claude to him. When the boy realized what he was up to, he drew back hastily. “Oh, no. Not there. You mustn’t.”

  “It’ll make your cock look much bigger. You’re a big guy. You ought to look big all over.”

  “But I’ll look ridiculous.”

  “Who’s going to see you?” He looked into Jean-Claude’s eyes. After a moment’s resistance, the boy acquiesced. He stood docilely while Charlie soaped him. His sex began to lengthen under his touch. Charlie paused in his chore and stroked it erect. “There. It’s easier to handle like this. I don’t want to cut it off.”

  “I don’t care as long as I have yours.”

  Charlie went to work with the razor. He was amazed by the effect he was creating as the blur of hair was removed. It gave a startling naked prominence to the genitalia. The soaring sex with the two spheres drawn up close against the base looked like some sort of futuristic missile, as if it was about to take off from the body. The hair had anchored it. When he was finished, he sprang up and moved away to study his handiwork. The body as sexual mechanism was nakedly revealed, superb yet oddly repellent. Charlie felt a little flush of satisfaction. “You’re quite a sight.”

  “You like me like this?”

  “You’re a beauty, especially with the hard-on. Let’s see how long you can keep it like that.”

  “As long as I look at you. I want to see you hard again. It is incredible.”

  “Well, you—”

  There was a knock on the door of the adjacent room. “C’est toi, chérie?” Jean-Claude called. “Entres.”

  “Tu es seul?” It was Anne’s voice.

  “Mais non. Tu vas voir.” He smiled at Charlie. “Come. I want her to see you.”

  “Like this?” Charlie glanced at the ludicrously naked sex, unflaggingly erect.

  “Of course. She will be thrilled. You mean me? She has seen me like this many times. I want to know how she likes me without hair. Come.”

  Charlie had never been physically modest. All right, he thought. Let’s see what this will lead to. He let Jean-Claude put an arm around his shoulders and conduct him back to the bedroom. As they entered, they seemed to crowd the room with male nakedness in the presence of Anne’s slight, child’s figure wearing a straight floor-length dressing gown. She seemed unconcerned by it. Her devouring eyes clouded as they fixed on Charlie’s.

  “Oh, no. Not you. This is wrong.” She shifted her eyes to her brother and took a quick breath of astonishment. “What have you done to yourself? You are obscene. Mon pauvre Jeannot, this is very bad.”

  “You mean this?” Jean-Claude asked, passing his hand across his lower abdomen. “What’s wrong? He says I am a beautiful statue.”

  “He’s wrong. Has he done this?” She turned back to Charlie, her eyes full of reproach. “I think you are not a friend to my brother. Why is Peter not here?”

  “You don’t understand,” Jean-Claude interjected. He hugged Charlie to him. “Charlie is my lover.”

  “This can’t be. You’re in love with Peter. You must not play with love.”

  “This is not play. You’ve never seen anything like him. No one could resist him. I’ve never felt the way I feel with him.”

  Anne’s eyes swept to Charlie and returned to her brother. “I think you will suffer very much for this.”

  Out of the mouths of babes, Charlie thought.

  “Suffer!” Jean-Claude exclaimed. “He is perhaps the biggest man in the world. It is glorious suffering.”

  “Peter is big enough and very beautiful,” Anne proclaimed.

  She knows that? Charlie thought. Had they all been at it together?

  “You don’t know until you’ve seen Charlie,” Jean-Claude insisted. “I will make him hard for you.”

  He felt Jean-Claude’s hands on him and knocked them away and took a step toward Anne. “Are you really interested?” he asked.

  “If Jeannot wishes it. Big is not everything. He must understand that. But of course, I am curious. I’m interested in everything about men.” She spoke in her characteristically expressionless fashion.

  “You’ve seen Peter like this?” Speaking directly to her, looking into her eyes, made him feel more keenly his nakedness and his sex was responding to it.

  “Only at a distance. To me, he looked very big. But so does Jeannot. Perhaps to a girl all men look big. I wish they would be erect always. It’s so thrilling.”

  “You’re making me that way much faster than Jeannot could.” He knew there was no outrage he could commit that they wouldn’t have anticipated and accepted in advance. Her eyes dropped lower and his sex rose more vigorously under her examination.

  “It is very thrilling. May I touch it?”

  “Of course.” The contact of her small hand made his body give a slight leap and his sex swelled closer to erection. She stroked it slowly and wonderingly, almost fearfully. Something about her stirred tenderness in him. She was so
small and lost. Her maternal solicitude for Jean-Claude touched him. He put his hand out and touched one of the small round breasts he had admired before. He had forgotten how sweet and soft a girl could be. It brought him fully erect. She gripped his sex and looked up. He saw color flood her face.

  “Why do you do that? You love boys.”

  “It’s not always all that simple.” They looked into each other’s eyes. Perhaps he could add a refinement to his torture of her brother. “Why don’t we make love together?” he said.

  “I’ve always dreamed of having one of Jeannot’s lovers. It would make me feel even more a part of him. When will you come see him again?”

  “Why not now?”

  “I must prepare for you. You look as if you could give me a baby very easily. Can you come back later?”

  A baby? He felt an extra little pulsing ache in his sex as she fondled it. “Of course. I have some things to do. I want Jeannot to go with me, but he can bring me back.”

  “You will be kind with him? He is very sensitive. He’s—his spirit is delicate.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Jean-Claude moved in close beside them and put a hand with his sister’s on Charlie’s sex. “You see, chérie? Isn’t he incredible? Wait till you feel him inside you. You will be his, too. We will both be his.”

  “I must go now,” Anne said. “If Charlie wanted you without hair, perhaps it is all right. You are both very thrilling. I will wait for you.” She turned and left them.

  Jean-Claude clung to his sex and looked at him with longing. “Come. You are so hard now. You will have me again.”

  Charlie pulled his hand away. “That was for Anne. Get dressed. We have to go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I want to take the car home. You bring yours. Then we’ll tell Peter what’s happened.”

  “You’re going to tell him?”

  “Of course. We’ll tell him together. He ought to know it’s all over as far as he’s concerned.”

  “You’re going to leave him?”

  Charlie’s breath caught and he clenched his jaws till the spasm passed. “Come on, damn it. Do you want me or Peter?”