Page 267 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 237

An extra was on the set.
He thought it was Logan.
Logan thought it was Ryan.
Kick, more caught up than he knew, was obviously intense on Logan.
Ryan felt like Woody Allen trying to dance with Rogers and Astaire.
Kick tried to keep balance, and Ryan, loving him all the more for his
sharing, decided to relieve the tension and eased down. Stroking himself,
he lay back on the floor beneath the two bodybuilders kneeling astride
him. They pounded on each other’s hard pecs, grappling, big hands feel-
ing up the muscle on big arms, leaning in over Ryan, face to face, each to
kiss the other. The triangulation was at least nine points short on one leg
of a Perfect-10 Scale. So much for having anything he wanted! This was
sex, not love. Still the view wasn’t bad. Most of San Francisco would have
traded places with him.
Witnessing Kick’s lust for Logan’s physique pleasured Ryan who
wanted to give Kick everything, including muscle, even if it wasn’t his
own aerobic pump. He winked at Kick, sort of a hoo-ha high sign, the
kind that close buddies on the home team exchange in the presence of a
stranger. Kick thought Ryan meant he liked Logan.
One goddam thing was meaning two things again. Fuck ambiguity.
Ryan had only one polite fast way out. He worked himself up to a
physical ejaculation that was some light years short of a psychic orgasm.
Not that it was esthetically difficult, not with the two handsome body-
builders rocking in heat across him, not when, wrapped in a beefy tangle
of arms and chests and shoulders, both musclemen came, raining white-
hot seed across the flat field of Ryan’s belly, clotted wet with his own
halfhearted load.
The next day Ryan, sorting love from sportfucking, wrote a new chap-
ter for the Manifesto. He called it “Homomasculine Fraternity.”
Ryan was happy that Kick found in the flesh of Logan’s body the
same passion Kick had found in Ryan’s words. It made no difference that
their three-way had been one time only. What mattered was that Kick had
shared Logan with him so he’d know firsthand what Kick saw in Logan.
Kick remembered the home team.
The taste of Logan’s butt lingered in Ryan’s mouth.
Bittersweet.

2

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