Mark's Birthday Present

This story is the property of the author, and may not be reproduced in any form without his permission.

All participants are 18 or older, and no suggestion of underage sexual activity is intended.

I took a psychology course once and we studied human sexuality for a couple of weeks. The professor said that almost no one is totally straight or gay, most of us have elements of both, with only a few people at the extremes, totally straight or gay. I figured I was one of the rare guys at the end of the scale, with no gay tendencies at all. And my best buddy Mark? He was at least twice as straight as me.

For Mark's twenty-fifth birthday, I wanted to do something really special. He and I had given each other beer bashes and limousines and strippers and trips to tropical party beaches, and all the macho male fantasy stuff you can think of. We had done it all. I wanted this gift to be something different, something he would remember. What was left? Mark must have some hidden desire he'd never mentioned, but how to find out without letting him know what I was up to?

For almost a year now Mark had been with Tracey, and it was looking serious. Neither Mark nor I had ever been with one girl more than three months before. And now they were talking about moving in together. I knew it was only a matter of time before they started talking about marriage, if they hadn't already.

So I figured if anyone would know what Mark really wanted but never told even me, it would be Tracey. I asked her to meet me after work at a bar in Soho that the three of us went to a lot. Mark was out of town, so there was no risk he'd find out and get suspicious.

Tracey and I had a couple of drinks, and then a couple more, and talked and joked until she finally said, "OK, Derek, what's this about? I know you didn't ask me to meet you so you could hit on me. What's up?"

I had been waiting for her to ask that question. I liked Tracey a lot, and was in no hurry to end our little date. Besides, I know enough about women to know that they like a little mystery. And the suggestion that a guy likes them - any guy - is never unwelcome.

"OK," I said. "I was enjoying being with you, just the two of us, but I guess it's time to get to the point."

She looked intrigued. I told her about my dilemma. I was Mark's best friend, and had known him since the two of us were kids, but I couldn't think of anything really different to get him for his birthday.

When I finished explaining my problem - and I took about ten minutes to do it, because I wanted Tracey to know that I had really thought about it a lot, and eliminated a lot of ideas - Tracey said nothing for a couple of minutes, just kept looking back and forth from me to her drink to the bar, to the wall, to me, to her drink. I knew better than to hurry her, so I nursed my own drink and waited. It looked like she knew something, at least.

But what she said totally floored me.

"OK, I guess you can tell I have something in mind."

I nodded. After it had taken her this long to say something, I figured it was best not to interrupt.

"And you know Mark and I are pretty serious about each other."

I nodded again. This was starting to sound weird. Was she going to suggest I hire a couple of hookers and give Mark another three-way with two babes at once?

"OK, well here goes. Boy, I can't believe I'm telling you this, you are not going to believe me and I am going to regret it for the rest of my life. But OK." She paused. I waited. "What Mark wants more than anything else is for you and me and him to have a three-way."

There was almost nothing Tracey could have said to me that night that would have shocked me the way that did. My jaw probably dropped open. I couldn't think of anything to say. I was sure it was some kind of weird joke, but Tracey wasn't the type to make jokes like that. Mark, yeah, he loved to make jokes about him and me being lovers, and we should get married and live together, we were the perfect couple, we knew everything about each other and didn't care about the toilet lid or the fucking toothpaste. I had heard that routine a hundred times. Then it occurred to me that Tracey simply hadn't known Mark long enough, she'd heard him say that, and took it seriously. I sighed with relief, and tried to think of a way to tell her that without sounding condescending or patronizing. Maybe I had made a mistake asking her at all.

"You're thinking 'She doesn't know Mark well enough,' right?" Tracey interrupted my desperate search for the right words.

I nodded.

"You're thinking 'I shouldn't have asked her, she doesn't understand his sense of humor,' right?"

I nodded.

She shrugged and said "I don't know what to say, Derek, but it's true, that's Mark's secret fantasy. He told me a couple of weeks ago, and he wasn't joking or playing some stupid trick. He told me you and he have been best friends since you were little kids, and ever since you were teenagers he's wanted to share a girl with you but he's been afraid to say anything about it because you're such a total macho stud and you'd get the wrong idea."

My head was spinning - Mark thought I was a total macho stud? He was afraid I would get the wrong idea? This had to be some sort of misunderstanding. I would do almost anything for my best friend, but I couldn't... He wouldn't... I couldn't. I was still convinced Tracey had it wrong. Or this was just a joke, and as soon as I acted like I was buying it she would laugh and say "Psych!"

Then Tracey reached across the table and took my hand. "Never mind, Derek, it's ok. I shouldn't have told you. He told me it was private. I just got carried away, the alcohol."

I stared at her dumbly. I guess I looked more upset than I really was, though, because she shook her head, and started to cry.

"Oh shit! I've ruined everything, you'll hate Mark and he'll never forgive me!"

Tracey got up and grabbed her purse and before I could say anything she had run out.

That convinced me. She wasn't kidding. Mark had really told her he wanted the three of us to have sex together. I knew I should run after Tracey and calm her down, reassure her it was all right, but I was too confused to think. I didn't want to think. I tried not to think about what she had said, what that really meant. I ordered another drink and swallowed it quickly and ordered another.

What had Tracey meant? Did Mark want me to have sex with Tracey while he watched? We had done that, we had shared a girl and watched each other, but not someone either of us cared about.

I had liked it, actually, watching Mark fuck a hot chick, but not because I was looking at him, it was the chick and I was horny and it was ok, all right? But it wouldn't be right for me to have sex with Tracey - she was special, even I could see that.

The other possibility was just too weird - Did she mean Mark wanted him and me to have sex somehow? That was impossible. Not Mark. Not Mark and me.

OK, there had been that time at summer camp, when we had snuck off one night together to go skinny-dipping in the cove, and somehow we had wound up trading blow jobs. OK, a couple of times. But we just did it to prove we could beat the system, we were having fun breaking the rules, campers weren't supposed to go outside their cabins after lights out. We were just kids, sixteen, maybe. Horny as bulls because we were stuck at this stupid all-boys camp for two weeks.

I tried to remember whose idea it had been, the first time. Mark had always been the instigator of our adventures, I the willing accomplice. He was just better at dreaming things up. So it was probably he who had suggested we sneak out and go skinny-dipping. Not a big deal, really, we had done much crazier, more dangerous things. Then after we swam, we were sitting on a log drying off and Mark put his arm around me, buddy- like, we always had our arms around each other, we were best friends, no harm in that. And maybe I put my hand on his thigh. And sure, we both had hardons, we were a couple of horny teenagers. So then one of us put his hand on the other's hard cock, and one thing led to another and pretty soon Mark was on his knees in front of me, sucking my cock.

I fell back in my chair, my head reeling. I had avoided thinking about it, but now I remembered. Mark had been the first one. He had reached out and taken my hard cock in his hand. He had sucked me first. He had swallowed my cum and then said, OK, now you do me. And I had done it because he told me to, he dared me to follow his lead, the way he always did. I had gone along the way I always went along with Mark, doing every crazy thing he suggested because it was always fun, if not at the exact moment it happened, then afterwards, when he told everybody about it. His stories about our adventures were more fun than the adventures themselves. Hearing Mark tell someone about one of our exploits was better than being there, he always made us sound like such heroes. Everything we did took on heroic proportions when Mark told it.

But what about the other nights at camp that year? How many had there been? The first time had been the first night, I remembered now. It was the night of our first day at camp. Our counselor spent half an hour before lights-out telling us the rules, and emphasizing that we were not allowed out of our cabins after lights out. One kid asked What if I have to go to the bathroom, and someone called out Wet your bed! And the counselor said No, of course not, if you need to go to the bathroom, that's ok, go ahead, the latrine is ok, but anything else is off limits. Then Mark leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Meet me at the latrine fifteen minutes after lights out," and I grinned and thought "Good old Mark, he'll get us in trouble for sure," but I did it, I met him, and followed him to the cove he had located earlier in the day, and swam nude with him, and sucked his huge rock-hard dick after he sucked mine, swallowed his warm salty cum because he swallowed mine and he said it made us brothers, it bound us together for life.

And when Mark leaned over to me as we sat together in the evening vespers ceremony the next night and said "Meet me at the cove after lights out," I did it. And when he grabbed me and kissed me as we stood together in the water, I kissed him back. I sucked his cock again, that night and every night we were at camp that year. And each night I swore an oath, never to tell anyone else what we had shared, a sacred trust, a bond between us, we were brothers.

I shook my head, the alcohol I had drunk making me dizzy. I hadn't eaten yet. I got up and grabbed my coat. Our waitress was at the bar and I stuffed way too much money in her hand and plunged out.

The three of us. It was always the three of us. I dated occasionally, and told myself I liked girls, fucked one once a week or so, but I never stayed with one for more than a month or two. Mark and I had always done everything together. And then Mark had found Tracey, and I liked her, she fit in, it had seemed wrong to introduce a stranger to our little trio. If I found the right girl, of course, then we would be a foursome. A quartet.

I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, so I wound up at the Italian place in The Village where Tracey and I had planned to eat. I looked at my watch - our reservation had been for 7:30, it was 8:00. They wouldn't hold it that long. Maybe I could eat at the bar. I was pretty drunk. I should eat something. I went in.

The hostess smiled when she saw me. "Good evening Mr. Andrews. Miss Bradley has already ordered, she said you would be late. Follow me, please." I followed her docilely to the table where Tracey was sitting. She was eating her salad. She looked up as I approached, not smiling, not frowning, just looking at me.

"May I sit down?" I asked. I hadn't realized until that moment how shaken I was. Nothing I had taken for granted a few hours earlier seemed meaningful any more.

"Stop that," Tracey scolded. "I was afraid you'd gotten run over or something. Sit down and eat, you need to eat something after all we drank. I don't know why I drank so much. Sit down!"

I sank into the chair opposite her and ordered something from the waiter and looked at Tracey. She seemed a complete stranger, I had no idea what to say to her now. She was eating her salad, she was very intent on her salad. She looked at me every bite or two, but mainly she was very busy with her fucking salad.

"Did Mark tell you about camp?" I asked. It was all I could think about. It seemed like the only thing that had ever happened between him and me.

Tracey nodded, then ate more of her salad.

I leaned towards her so I wouldn't have to shout. The restaurant wasn't that noisy usually, but it was Friday, the place was packed, it was too loud to talk in a normal tone of voice. I glared at her and shouted. "He made me promise I would NEVER tell anyone! WE would never tell anyone!" She didn't say anything, so I sank back in my chair. I realized how mad I was.

My own salad arrived, and I ate it. We continued to eat, saying nothing. I felt betrayed. Mark had Tracey, they were going to get married. Would the three of us continue to do things together? What about when they had kids, Mark had always wanted kids, lots of them. Would I be Uncle Derek, invited over for holidays and special outings? What was going to happen to me?

We finished eating, saying nothing. We split the bill, as agreed.

When we got outside Tracey grabbed my arm and said "You're coming to my place. We have to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, trying to pull away.

"Derek!" Tracey shook my arm. "Please! I'm sorry, I should never have told you that. It changes nothing. Give me a chance. Please?"

I gave in. What difference did it make? I felt like my whole life had been a lie. I didn't know Mark. Or Tracey. Or even myself.

At Tracey's apartment she let us in, then went to the kitchen to make coffee. I sat on the couch and watched the news. There was a war somewhere. There had been a tornado somewhere. Someone had been shot. Tracey came back and handed me a cup of coffee. It was too hot to drink, so I held it, enjoying the warmth in my hands. Tracey sat beside me.

"Derek, please don't shut me out like this. What's wrong? I know Mark told me something he promised he wouldn't ever tell, but that was when you were boys. You're men now. He and I are going to be married."

I looked at her. I knew he hadn't proposed yet. Or did I?

"No, he hasn't proposed. But he will. We love each other, Derek. And we love you. Mark loves you. And I love you. So you and he fooled around once ten years ago. So what?"

"Not just once. Every night. We were there for two weeks. We went to the cove every night, and we had sex with each other every night. We kissed. It wasn't just sex. We made love. I knew that I loved Mark more than anyone else on earth, that he was the only one I would ever love. And the last night he said we could never do it again, and we must never talk about it, and we must never tell anyone."

I started crying half way through my speech. I had never even said these things to myself. I had lived for ten years hoping that someday Mark would want me again, want me that way again.

Tracey sat next to me on the couch and held me as I sobbed. Eventually I was able to stop. I hadn't cried that way since I was a kid. I didn't know I could. I felt like such a fool. What had I been doing for the last ten years, wanting Mark, not even letting myself admit it, waiting for someone who would never want me, could never want me? Eventually I stopped crying.

When I could talk again I asked the question that was now burning in my mind. "Why did you say that? About the three of us? Did he say he wants that?"

I was sure he hadn't really said it that way, he'd been joking, she had made some feminine, intuitive leap, assumed he wanted it because a woman who said whatever he said would want that, and she wanted to please him. She didn't know what really happened between us, she just took his word, heard the Mark version, the idealized version, sanitized for her protection.

"He said he's afraid you'll never leave him, never have the life you could have, because you'll keep waiting for him. He said he loves you, but he doesn't know how to tell you he can't be with you that way. He says he can't live that life."

I'm sure I looked totally stunned, I was having a hard time processing what Stacey was saying. More leaps of feminine intuition. Couldn't be true. She paused, then went on.

"He loves you, Derek. The same way you love him. He just thinks he has to be so fucking strong for the two of you, set a good example. He wants you too. I'm just what he thinks he should want. He wants you. God you men make me so mad! So full of your macho bullshit, so afraid to admit what you feel!"

Tracey looked like she was about to cry again, and I reached out and rubbed her shoulder. She pressed her lips together, then continued.

"So when you asked what Mark wanted more than anything else, I wanted to say YOU! But instead I said - what I said. I had some ridiculous idea the three of us could set up house and raise a family. Mark would sleep with me during the first and third weeks of each month, and with you the second and fourth, and with both of us in whatever was left over. Or maybe you and I would sleep together the rest of the time. So our children could call both of you Daddy. Oh Damn! It was a stupid idea. I'm sorry, I was drunk, you know I can't drink."

We sat for a while longer, and I finally got up to go.

"Stay here, Derek," Tracey said. "It's late. You're too drunk to go out. Sleep on the couch. We'll talk in the morning. This will all seem clearer in the morning. Please?"

"OK," I said, lacking the energy to argue. I knew nothing would be clearer, nothing would ever be clear again. She gave me a blanket and I curled up on the couch and fell asleep right away.

I woke the next morning feeling disoriented until I realized where I was. I had been dreaming about Mark and me, we were on a road trip, the trip we had been promising each other we would take for at least ten years, a trip across the country on Route 66, to see the Real America. But in the dream everything kept going wrong. We ran out of gas and the filling station turned out to be a hospital but they didn't accept people like us and we had to get back in the car and drive to a town where we were supposed to stay but when we got there my mother appeared and told me Mark was a bad influence and Mark disappeared and I tried to find him but he was way off in the distance and when I tried to run to catch him I couldn't move, I was stuck, and then Tracey was singing something, not talking but singing, only the words made no sense.

Once I figured out where I was I realized Tracey really was singing. She was in the bedroom, and the door was ajar. I could smell coffee, so she must have been up for a while. I listened to her singing. She had a nice voice, a sweet low voice, simple, unaffected. I had no idea she could sing like that. Mark must know. What would it be like to wake up every morning and hear your wife singing like that? I would never know.

I remembered what she had said last night about the three of us living together. If we did that, I would hear her sing every morning. Assuming she sang every morning. Maybe she only sang when she was happy. Or on Saturdays. If we lived together, I would know things like that about her.

I got up and folded the blanket she had tucked around me the night before, then put on my shoes and left, making sure the latch was set as I closed the door.

I'm not very good at dealing with emotional issues, and Yeah, that's probably one reason I'm still single at twenty-five, thanks for pointing that out. So I went home from Tracey's and took a shower and went back to bed for a couple of hours. When I got up there was a message from Tracey, she sounded like she was worried but trying to hide it, and I realized it had been shitty of me to just sneak out without saying anything so I called her back and said I was sorry, and Yeah, I was fine, I just needed time to digest it all. Then I got up and did what I do on Saturdays. I worked out for a couple of hours, did a couple of loads of laundry, rented a video, bought some groceries, ate, then sat down in front of the TV with a beer to watch the movie I had rented. It was one I had seen before, an action-adventure flick I knew would deliver mindless satisfaction, lots of car chases and explosions, and just enough plot to hold it all together.

Half way through the movie the door bell rang and I paused the tape and got up. It was Mark. I said Hi, come in, tossed him a beer on my way back to the couch, and resumed play on the video. He sat in his usual place, at the other end of the couch, took a couple of swigs of his beer, then when there was a break in the action he said "Tracey's been worried about you. You shouldn't have just walked out like that." I glanced over at him. He was watching the screen.

"Yeah, so I guess she told you about what happened."

"Of course, she and I don't keep secrets."

"So I gathered."

"Look, Derek, it was ten years ago, I thought we'd both moved on. It was kid stuff. I told her because, well I don't know, it just seemed right at the time. It's not like we're fags or anything."


We watched the film for a while until I got up the courage to ask the question that had been burning in my mind ever since last night when Tracey first made her "suggestion."

"Did she tell you her idea for my gift for your twenty-fifth next month?"

"No, what do you mean?"

"She didn't tell you how the topic of our 'kid stuff' came up?"

"She said the two of you were having some drinks and one thing led to another and she just let it slip out."

"Ah, so the 'full disclosure' has its limits."

"Cut the shit, dude. What are you talking about?"

"Call Tracey and ask her."

"No, you tell me."

"If she didn't tell you, I'm not about to. Forget it." I finished my beer and got another. I was planning to get good and drunk again.

We sat watching the movie for a while longer, then Mark got up and went to the phone and dialed. I could tell from his tone of voice he was talking to Tracey, but couldn't hear everything he said. A couple of times he raised his voice though. Once he said "No way! Bullshit!" And another time he said "Jesus! No way!" So it sounded like she had told him something he wasn't too happy about. He got another beer and came back and sat on a chair facing me.

"She told me you asked what to give me for my birthday and she suggested a three-way. Me and you and her. Tell me she's bullshitting."

"She's bullshitting."

"Now tell me for real."

"She said it."


We sat for awhile longer, both drank a couple more beers. Finally Mark asked the question I'd been expecting. "Are you queer, Derek?"

"I don't think so. Are you?"

"Don't bullshit me man, what's this all about? She said you're in love with me. She said that stuff we did at camp meant something special to you."

"It did. I guess I am. In love with you, I mean. But I'm not queer. I don't think I am, I don't want anyone else, just you."

"So if I said I'd go along with this three-way, you'd do it?"

"No. I mean, well, is that really what you want? Why did she suggest that? Are you two just running some head trip on me? Or what?"

"Shit. OK. One night when she and were talking I did say that. I told her I liked both of you and if I ever did it with a guy again it would have to be you."

"And that's all?"

"Well, maybe I put it a little stronger than that."

I waited.

"OK, I said I had this fantasy of the three of us. I said I wanted us to have a three-way."

"You did?"

"I did."

"And that would be OK, you and I could have sex with each other again, as long as Tracey was there to keep it from being queer."

"Something like that."

"So it would be OK for me to fuck Tracey as long as you were there?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I mean if she said it was OK, of course."

"Of course. And it would be OK for us to suck each other's cocks, because she would be there."

"Yeah. Sure. We did it that other time."

"Those other times, buddy. We did it every night. For two weeks. And the last two nights we fucked each other. I shoved my cock up your tight little ass and fucked you so hard your eyes popped out and you screamed like a little girl and begged me to do it harder. If I hadn't put my hand over your mouth to muffle you the whole camp would have been there to watch. You said my cock up your ass was the most incredibly sexy thing you'd ever felt. You said you wanted it to go on forever. You shot your load just from the feeling of my big fat dick up your ass and said it was the best orgasm you ever had."

"OK, you're right. It felt pretty good."

"But you've never thought about it since then."

Mark put his hands over his face and bent forward like he did when he was having trouble telling the truth. I waited.

"I think about it all the time. I can't forget how awesome it felt to suck your cock and have you suck mine and to have your huge dick up my ass. I never trusted a girl enough to tell her what I wanted until now, but I had Tracey buy a rubber cock and sometimes she shoves it up my ass while we're fucking and I shot so hard I feel like I'm dying." He looked up at me, then looked away again. "But I keep wondering what it would feel like if it was your cock, not a piece of rubber."

I couldn't believe my super-jock macho stud buddy Mark was saying he wanted me to fuck him. My cock had gotten hard as he described having Tracey shove a dildo up his ass, and the thought of him under me, my cock inside him, made it start to throb and ooze. I reached down and adjusted myself. I was wearing just my sweats, nothing underneath, so it was pretty obvious.

"You too," Mark said, and I looked up to see him looking at my crotch, his hand in his own crotch, his big tool clearly outlined through his levis. He never wore underwear, said it was too confining.

I thought "What the fuck, it's over between us, why not go for it while I can?"

I got up and walked over to Mark's chair. I pushed my sweats down to free my rock-hard dick and stood there in front of him. I straddled his legs so the tip of my cock was just a few inches from his lips. He looked at my cock, then up at my face, then at my cock again. He pulled his own cock out and started stroking it. The huge purple head of his fuck tool was glistening as sex juice oozed from the tip. My own cock was oozing so hard that a big drop started falling, and I watched it slowly descend, connected by a long string of clear sticky fluid to my cock, until it came to rest on Mark's hand, the one that was stroking his own erection. Mark leaned forward and licked the tip of my cock, lapping up my fuck juice. It felt incredible. My knees felt weak. My buddy licked my cock some more, running his tongue up the under side, then licking the tip to get more of my juice, which was oozing fast.

"Stop teasing me," I said. "Suck it. Suck my cock."

Mark looked up at me, then opened his mouth and slowly engulfed the head and about two inches of my erection, then closed his lips and sucked gently. I shoved my hips forward to push more of it into his mouth, but he wrapped his hand around my cock to control it. I gasped in frustration, and he made a noise, sort of unh-unh, telling me not to rush it. I gave in and let him take his time.

I hadn't jerked off since Thursday night so I was incredibly horny, and so turned on from his description of having Tracey fuck him with the dildo that I could feel my orgasm building quickly. When I'm that horny I usually let myself cum real quick, then wait a few minutes and get hard again, and take my time cumming the second time. My balls were churning and my cock was throbbing. I was getting close. Mark had taken more of my cock into his mouth and was really getting into it now.

I remembered ten years earlier, how Mark had loved sucking my cock, and said he wanted me to like it, and made me tell him exactly what felt good. I could tell he remembered it all. He was still holding my cock with one hand to keep me from shoving the whole nine inches down this throat all at once and fucking his face, and the other hand was in between my legs, playing with my balls, tugging and squeezing them, and now and then he'd poke a finger into the crack of my ass and tease my hole.

I grunted wordlessly, my orgasm real close. I put my hands on Mark's head, torn between pushing him off so I wouldn't cum in his mouth and grabbing his head to jam my cock in even farther.

"Ungh! Gonna cum!" I growled.

Mark pushed my hands away and kept sucking my cock. He had most of it down his throat now, and was giving me the blow job of a lifetime. My legs were shaking and my balls were churning and my abs were quivering. I felt a huge load of cum building.

"Ungh! Yeah! Cumming!" My cock erupted.

Mark kept sucking, swallowing on the head as I pumped a huge load of cum into his throat. I couldn't understand how he was breathing, but I didn't care, I was out of control and cumming so hard I nearly fainted.

It took the three of us a while to figure things out, but eventually Mark and Tracey did get married, and we all bought a duplex in Brooklyn Heights. I live in one half, they live in the other. They have two kids now, a girl named Alicia and a boy named Derek. They call the boy Junior. I still date girls, and I might get married someday. Or maybe not.

We didn't exactly work out a schedule for who sleeps with whom when, we just play it by ear. We've even tried a three-way a few times. I love fucking Mark while he fucks Tracey.

And yeah, she always sings in the morning.