San Francisco
Part 10

After phoning mom, I returned to the kitchen and asked Spencer where the lawnmower was. "Hey, I can mow the lawn while you guys are fixing lunch."

"Relax, Daniel. Chill out. Enjoy yourself."

"OK. I'll mow it later. Hmmm. So if MM is still in hospital," I reasoned, "he won't be coming around. So I can get naked. Right? What's that stuff?"

"Fetta cheese and herbs... I use it to stuff the chillies... and I'll stuff some up your ass if you get naked. Anyway, what's this obsession of yours about being naked all the damn time?"

"It's not an obsession! I just figured if I get naked you guys will, too. Woohoo! Anyway, I wanna see what's so wicked about Wicked Willie's willie."

"You wanna see my willie?" Willie laughed. "OK, I'll show you mine if you show me yours. I've already seen Spencer's... a million times."

"You have? I saw it yesterday while he was playing the piano. Totally awesome."

"His playing or his boner?"

I untied my t from around my waist, let it fall to the floor, then dropped my shorts. "There ya go. Pretty impressive, huh?"

"Blonde pubes! How cool!"

"But what about my dick?"

"Hey, Willie!" Spencer complained. "You're supposed to be helping me with these enchiladas."

"But Daniel wants to see my willie!"

"Give him a quick peek, then let's get this damn lunch organized."

Willie dropped his shorts and boxers then showed me his thick, lazy cock crowned by a bush of black pubes. It looked fucking delicious! Without asking, I dipped my finger into the fetta cheese, then knelt before him and spread the white mixture onto the head of Willie's semi.

"You want me to leave it there?"

"Nope," he smiled as he looked down at me.

I opened my mouth and took the whole of his soft cock between my lips, then felt it begin to pulsate and grow as the taste of the cheese tantalized my taste buds. It was a totally rad sensation to feel that hot piece of meat hardening and getting longer in my mouth. The bomb! Woohoo! Within seconds, my lips were stretched around the width of Willie's solid, throbbing shaft, and I could feel his swollen knob pressing against the back of my throat. The salty taste of pre-cum began to mingle with the fetta.

At that point, it seemed that Willie had lost all interest in helping his bud with the enchiladas. His hands were gripping my head, and he was getting into a pelvic thrusting motion. My fingers were sliding up and down the backs of his legs, then up under his t so that I could massage his smooth, muscular buns.

"Hey, guys!"

I recognized Spencer's voice, but I was in no position to answer. At least six inches of thick, rock-hard meat was gliding between my lips, and a pair of juice-filled balls was slapping against my chin with each thrust.

"Willie!" came the order from above. "Hold it a second!" Then Spencer lowered his voice. "Hey, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

I felt Willie's boner, all shiny with my spit, slip outa my mouth, then saw it bounce a few times. A hand arrived and began to smother it with something. "Guacamole sour cream dip," Spencer explained. Then a second bouncing boner came into view, also covered in the pale green avacado mixture. I looked up to see two handsome faces gazing down at me, wearing ear-to-ear Cheshire cat grins.

"You mean... both of them? Whoa! Like all at once?"

"Think you can handle it, Daniel?"

I re-focused on the two pulsating monsters that were staring at me with their silent, single piss-eyes. "Not sure. They're fucking huge!" Then my gaze wandered down to those two pairs of hangers... volcanoes threatening to erupt at any minute.

I grabbed Spencer's butt with one hand, and Willie's with the other, then opened my mouth as wide as I possibly could. A moment later, two massive cockheads were battling for space between my lips, which were stretched wide enough to compete with an anaconda swallowing an elephant. Make that two elephants. Mmmm! Actually, the guacamole tasted pretty damn cool.

Somehow, I managed to get both swollen knobs plus an inch or two of each shaft into my mouth. Then my only option was to use my fists to jack the remaining five or six inches of each boner.

"Put your finger in my butt," I heard Willie say. He must've been talking to Spencer 'cause my hands were busy stroking their monsters. And I figured Willie's finger would be jammed up Spencer's rosebud.

I'd seen a pic of a guy with two throbbers stabbing his tonsils at the same time, so I had a pretty good idea of what I must've looked like. S-T-R-E-T-C-H-E-D! Occasionally, I'd glance up to see what Willie and Spencer were doing. Most of the time they were French kissing, but they'd pause every once in a while to watch their boners stuffing my face. Must've been one helluva damn sight from up there!

When I heard their muffled groans, I knew I was in for a fucking deluge of juice. Both at once? Or one at a time? I didn't know. All I knew was that my mouth was filling like crazy with truckloads of jizz. And no matter how often or quickly I tried to force the endless sticky torrent past my tonsils, another explosion would follow. Then another. And yet another. It was like trying to beat the world record at whipped cream swallowing. Or was that sour cream?

Meantime, Spencer and Willie were wobbling all over the fucking place as their knees buckled, and weird wimpering noises kept coming from their squashed noses and lips. I had to grip their thrashing, bucking boners with all my strength to prevent them from sliding outa my mouth before they'd fired the last of their delicious, juicy missiles.

"Woohoo!" I said as the two shiny knobs stared at me once again. Then I squeezed them both, and licked the remaining pearls of cum from their pissholes. "You were right about the guacamole, Spencer. It's seriously fucking wicked."

"We'd better go wash our hands, Willie. Hey, Daniel, that was awesome, buddy. Totally awesome. Outasight. Thanks. Back in a second."

While the guys were in the bathroom, I wondered about the note under the windshield wiper. Had Spencer forgotten? Anyway, it was no biggie. I could always jack off thinking about what had just happened. Two hunky, hot cocks exploding at once and threatening to drown me. Whoa! How fucking wild was that?

A minute or two later, both guys emerged naked from the bathroom, then headed for the kitchen bench. "Chicken or beef enchiladas, Daniel?"

"Whatever. Chicken, I think. Jeez! I can't believe that I had both your dicks in my mouth. And Spencer's right, Willie. Your willie is wealy, wealy wicked. It wocks big time."

"Thanks. Comes in handy now and then. Hey, that was cool of you to do that, Daniel. Blew me away, in more ways that one. You didn't have to y'know."

"It's cool," I shrugged, then grinned. "I had nothing else planned."

"We have, though," Spencer smiled cheekily as he filled a corn tortilla. "Willie and I talked about how we're gonna treat you to something special... after lunch, though."

"Like what?"

"We don't wanna spoil the surprise, right?"

Still naked, we ate lunch, washed down with Corona Cerveza, on the redwood deck. "Mmmm! Yum! Hey, Spencer, you should be a chef, man! Totally delish!"

The guys told me about how they'd built the deck themselves, and also installed a toilet and washbasin in the basement from stuff that they'd salvaged. Pretty clever dudes, I thought.

"So like how do you guys stand up on those sailboards?"

"We use our bodyweight to counterbalance the force of the wind. The basics are pretty much like any form of sailing."

"You looked like you were going pretty damn fast out there."

"Most of the professional, high-level windsurfing like you see on TV is done in high winds -- about 20 miles per hour. But, generally, we windsurf at about 10 miles per hour. It looks faster than it is 'cause it's on water. Actually, it feels faster as well. You should try it, Daniel. It's exhilerating."

"About $500 can get you a good basic setup," Willie added, "and from there, you have no lift tickets, no registration fees, no nothing! The wind is free."

"That was a double negative, Willie... no nothing."

"Shuddup, Spencer. It's a figure of speech."

"My buddy Kyle often tells me about surfing, and like how it puts him in touch with nature. Sometimes he and his dad go on what he calls "dawn patrol", and they just kinda sit there on their boards out the back and watch the sun rise through the mist. Kyle's awesome. You'd dig him a stack. He has a really neat friend called Wingnut. Does MM pick up Bugsy's dog crap?"

"Nope. He leaves that to me," Spencer laughed. "Maybe I should train him... MM, I mean."

"Anyway, the windsurfing keeps you guys pretty fit. You both look hot. I mean like hot... y'know, major hot."

"What do you do to keep fit, Daniel?" Willie asked.

"Swimming, cycling, and I've got one of those chest-expander thingies. Pushups, situps, whatever. Y'know, nothing special. But I like to stay in shape."

"I can tell."

"You think I look OK?"

"Stop fishing for compliments, Daniel," Spencer cracked, almost choking on a mouthful of chicken enchilada. "Are you blind or something?"

"It's kinda weird, y'know? I mean, I know I look pretty cool 'cause people gawk at me. But it's not the same as gawking at another dude. Like on the streetcar this morning. A guy about sixteen got on the tram with a skateboard and he looked totally fucking -- sorry -- awesome. Cute like you wouldn't believe. So it was like I was too busy gawking at him to think about myself. Know what I mean? It's like being here with you guys. I dunno how to explain it. I mean, I strut around and carry on like I'm Mr Unbelievable..." I had to pause a moment there to giggle, then continued. "But it's not like I really believe it. Am I making sense here? Jeez, I dunno what the fuck -- sorry -- I'm talking about."

"I do," Spencer smiled. "It's like my cooking. You're enjoying it, right? So what's more important? My cooking, or the fact that you and Willie are enjoying it? Hey, there's nothing wrong with being proud. I'm proud of the food I throw together. But there'd be no point if I didn't have anybody to share it with. Besides, I have my fav restaurants, and I'm in awe of the way those guys cook as well. Comprehende?"

"Yeah... I think so."

"Anyway," Willie interrupted, "to answer your question... yeah, I think you look OK."

"You mean like... just OK?"

"Hmmm... well..." he grinned as his hand swivelled from side to side, suggesting that he was sussing the situation like some Italian dude shopping for tomatoes, "maybe a six... hmmm... six and a half."

"A fucking six??? Jeez! Gimme a break!" Both guys were cracking up something rad, and slapping their thighs, while I was beginning to become a little annoyed. "Hey! What is this? Huh? Six? Yeah, right. Tell me the truth, dammit!"

"Why do you wanna know, Daniel?" Willie asked as his giggling began to subside.

"I dunno. I just wanna know, that's all."

"Why is it so important?"

"'Cause it's important, that's why! Anyway, don't worry about it. I'm not gonna believe you whatever you say. Even it's an eleven."

"Do you think you're an eleven?"

"Let's just forget it. OK? It doesn't matter."

"Actions speak louder than words, Daniel. You can figure out whether we think you're a six or an eleven after Spencer and I have given you our little treat."

"What treat?"

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