THORNE:

    The restaurant was quiet for a Friday night, which was nice since it allowed my cousin and me to catch up like we'd wanted. Ridge had been out of town for work for most of the last two months, and we'd barely checked in the entire time. It wasn't unusual for us. Our relationship had been through so many rounds of closeness and separation, all the way back to when we were kids, so it was never a big deal for us to be out of touch for a while. However, I couldn't remember the last time when there was such a drastic change in my life since last seeing Ridge. 

    "So how are things going with Dylan and Ricky?" he asked after we'd finished up a bottle of wine. I knew he was eager for updates and the question didn't surprise me. In fact, I was amazed we'd waited so long to bring it up.

    "Brody," I corrected him. "And it's been... good. Like, really good. I see Dylan a lot, and when he's with Brody I don't feel jealous or like I'm being excluded or anything."

    "How often do the three of you spend time together?" Ridge asked. Dylan, my son and I didn't have the same dynamic that Ridge and his two boyfriends had, so I understood why he was curious.

    "Every Sunday," I said. "It's just sort of become our routine for the weekend. Brody works on Saturday nights and so Dylan and I have that time, and he stays over in my room. We all wake up late on Sunday and do something together. Go to the park, or to a movie, or just hang at the apartment."

    "That's so great, Thorne," my cousin said with a warm smile. "I knew you guys could make this work." His expression changed to something a little more mischievous. "So has there been any... walking in on each other, or similar incidents? If Dylan's always staying over seems like it's bound to happen."

    "Not too many," I said, trying to sound a little irritated at the question, even if it was also nice to have someone to talk about this with. "They stay at Dylan's place a fair amount, I think to avoid that happening more. But... Brody's come home early a few times and gotten an eyeful. He always plays it cool, and Dylan doesn't seem to care. But those two have an exhibitionist streak anyway."

    "Oh just those two, huh?" Ridge responded with a laugh. I knew he was mentally going through all the times he'd seen me showing off in public one way or another. "I think that apple hasn't fallen far from the daddy tree."

    "Yeah, yeah," I said, waving it off with a grin. "I won't lie, it's gotten me going when it's happened. I try not to dwell on it too much. I mean, it's not like we ever do it on purpose."

    "Well what about you catching them?" Ridge asked, clearly trying to pry some kind of sensational story from me. "Two horny boys, they're probably doing it all over the place."

    "All over San Francisco, you mean," I said, chuckling. "Dylan recently mentioned the two of them fucking on the last car of a BART train. He made it sound like they invented that."
   "Ha!" Ridge let out another laugh. "They probably think they did. Did you tell him we were doing that 20 years ago? It's probably still the same seat covers on the trains. Maybe their cum stains are layered on yours."

    "And half a million others," I shook my head, laughing. "No, I didn't have the heart to tell him that's a proud tradition. Let them think they're onto something new."
   "They're certainly taking you along for the ride with this whole relationship situation," he said, and paused for a moment, looking unsure if he wanted to say more. Finally, with one eyebrow raised, he asked the question I'd figured he eventually would: "So... do you think you and Brody will ever... you know... fix yourselves a Dylan sandwich?" His choice of words made me laugh. 

    "I don't... I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "That seems like a lot. For me and Brody I mean. Walking in on each other is one thing but... he's my son. It seems like that would be crossing a line."
   "Was it crossing a line all those times the two of us nailed some hungry bottom from both ends?" Ridge asked, and my mind flashed back to our wilder days, before I had Brody, when my cousin and I would spend entire weekends partying and getting caught up in whatever opportunities came our way.

    "That was different," I said quickly. Ridge and I were cousins, sure. But Brody was my son. As cool as he and I were around each other, it felt different somehow. More taboo… though of course that brought some titillation along with it. 

    "Besides," I continued, "Dylan is a bottom with me but a top with Brody. I'm not even sure how that would work."

    "Well, I can think of at least three positions right off the bat, and if you give me a few minutes..." Ridge said, grinning as a way to tease me.

    "Enough!" I said firmly, putting a stop to his train of thought. "Like I said, things are going good right now. No one's feeling like a third wheel. It's a miracle we've made it work as is, there's no need to stir the pot. Anyway, don't you have your own lifetime of threesomes to plan?" At that moment, Ridge's phone lit up on the table, a picture of Hank displayed on the screen along with his name.
   "Speak of the devils," my cousin said, as he answered the call. Hank and Bill were going to meet us after dinner, we had four tickets to a show. Between Ridge's part of the conversation and the expression on his face, I could tell plans had changed. A moment later, he hung up the phone and looked over at me.

    "They left late and are still stuck in traffic down in the south bay, there's no way they will make it here before intermission," he said. "Looks like two of those pricey tickets are going to waste, unless we want to try and scalp them or something."

    "And sit next to some randos who probably haggled us down to a third of the price? No way," I said despondently. "Isn't there someone we can call?"

    "What about Brody and Dylan? What are they up to?" Ridge suggested. It wasn't a bad idea, and after a few texts, they were en route to meet us.

—

    My son and our boyfriend arrived just a few minutes before the curtain went up, so we didn't get a chance to chat much as we made our way through the old theatre building to the seats. Ridge slipped into the narrow space first, taking the furthest seat in. Then came me, then Dylan on my right, and Brody had the seat next to the aisle.

    The show was a rock musical that had been a recent Broadway hit and was now touring. It was the big spectacle we'd heard it would be, and more. The lights were bright, the music was loud and the hot lead actor was shirtless for most of the first act, which added to the enjoyment.

    I glanced over at Dylan, thinking I might sneak a kiss or maybe a grope. But I saw that he and my son had already had similar ideas, though as usual they needed to level it up past what was acceptable behavior, even for San Francisco. I was startled to see that my son's fully erect cock was jutting up from the fly of his dress pants, with Dylan's fist wrapped around it and slowly moving up and down. A quick look around told me that no one nearby had noticed, everyone's attention firmly focused on the big finale of the first half of the show, which was just starting up. To their credit, even Dylan and Brody were playing it cool, both facing straight ahead while Dylan gave my son a handjob right in the middle of a theatre.

    My eyes returned to the stage but after a moment, I couldn't help but glance to my right again. There it was, Brody's cockhead, swollen and glistening in the low light that surrounded us. I observed just how big my son's cock was, realizing that despite living together for his entire life, I'd never seen him with a hardon, at least not as an adult. (I'd walked in on him "going to town" on himself a few times when he was growing up, but that was always followed by a curt apology and me walking away.) He was good sized and looked to be not much smaller than me. I smiled at that realization, and briefly wondered if Brody ever topped guys when he had the chance. But that was none of my business. Or was it, if the guy in question was Dylan?

    Before long, I realized my head had turned and the hand job had my full attention. Dylan had an interesting technique, alternating between two long, slow strokes and then four quicker ones. He'd never done that on me, and I realized it must  be something specific that Brody liked.

    I watched them for a while, and was finding it rather fascinating. Dylan was groping himself through his pants with his other hand, and I could tell he was just as turned on as my son to be doing this. My own cock was reacting as well, knowing that my boy would probably be blowing his load all over Dylan's hand shortly. Did they have tissues to clean up with, I wondered? Had this been pre-planned at all?

    I few minutes later, I got my answer as Brody started to shoot his cum all over the back of the seat in front of him, just as the ensemble on stage belted their song and the music reached a dramatic crescendo to go with my son's cumshot. I looked up at Brody's face and could tell he was moaning out in pleasure, drowned out by the loud singing from the cast. There were no tissues; Dylan just licked off whatever portion of Brody's cum was on his hand, and the rest of it was left to drip down the back of the chair in front. 

    The audience stood up in applause, as if applauding my son's release of cum. That seemed to amuse Brody and Dylan as well, and they started to laugh as they stood up, with Brody tucking his cock away and zipping up. A few seconds later we were exiting the for the intermission, and I gave one more look at my son's cum dripping off the chair. He and Dylan hadn't bothered to clean it up which kinda turned me on, since it was there for anyone to see.

    "Phew, I'm thirsty," my son said out in the hall. 

    "Come, let's hit the bar," said my cousin, and he and Brody were making their way to get drinks while Dylan and I headed to the men's room.

    As often was the case during intermission on big shows like this, the restroom was completely busy. We had to wait in line since every urinal and stall was being used. When we got got to the front of the line, a man left one of the cubicles and I quickly pulled Dylan with me inside. If anyone in the room thought this was weird, they didn't say anything or react in any way.

    "C'mere!" I said to Dylan as I pushed him against the inside of the stall door, which I'd locked. As much as I needed to piss, I needed to kiss him even more. We started to make out passionately, and I could feel the taste of my son's semen which Dylan had swallowed just a couple of minutes ago. For some fucked up reason, that turned me on even more and I shoved my tongue even further down Dylan's throat, sucking out all the cum I could get that was in there.

    The two of us made out while men went in and out of the restroom, pissing and flushing and washing their hands. We stopped for just a minute so we could piss as well, and we did so side-by-side in the toilet, both of our dicks getting hard in the process. I leaned in and started kissing Dylan again, reaching for his dick and holding it in my hand while he emptied his bladder. He returned the favor and took my pissing cock in his hand. A few seconds later we were done pissing, and our hands started to stroke up and down each other's dicks, until we were both fully boned up.

    "I saw what you did earlier," I whispered to Dylan, biting his lower lip. I knew he'd know exactly what I was talking about.

    "I know you did. I could see you looking at us. You enjoyed watching me make your son cum?" Dylan whispered back, his hand squeezing my dick harder as he said that.

    "Not as much as I'm gonna enjoy you making me cum," I grunted, and pushed Dylan against the wall, with both of us straddling the toilet. I squatted down and started rimming him, suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of his ass mixed with the piss that was still in the toilet. We didn't have too much time; besides, the men's room was way too busy for us to let this drag out. It was risky enough as it is. After a short rim job, I stood back up and spit on my hand, using it to lube up my cock before shoving it inside my boyfriend's hole.

    "Ahhh," Dylan moaned louder than it was wise in such a public setting. 

    "Shhh," I said and I put my hands on his face his a muzzle, covering his mouth and nose, barely letting him get enough air. I pushed my dick in in one swift move, noting the momentary pain on Dylan's face, which only made my cock harder. A second later that pain turned to pleasure, and I started to thrust fast. 

    Visions of my son's cock shooting out cum just a few minute ago flew through my mind. It must've been such a thrill for Brody to blow his load somewhere so public, just as good as it felt for me right now. As I started to near my orgasm, I closed my eyes and saw my son's face in my head, smiling at me and encouraging me to breed our sexy boyfriend.

    "Do it, Dad! Breed his ass," Brody said in my head and I started to shoot my cum inside Dylan's ass, gagging him with my fist as he continued to moan. By this point I'm sure at least some of the men in the room knew what we were doing, but I was hoping they were the type that enjoyed stuff like this and that they wouldn't go out looking for security.

    As soon as I was done dumping my babies in Dylan's ass, I squatted down once again.

    "Push it out! Push that fucking load out!" I grunted hungrily, and planted my tongue on Dylan's asshole, just as he pushed out my jizz and fed it to me. With my own load in my mouth, I stood up and grabbed Dylan's face, kissing him and spitting my load in his mouth. We passed it back and forth like this several times, until I finally had him swallow it. "Good boy," I said silently. We were finally starting to calm down just as the men's room was emptying out. The intermission was over.

    A couple of minutes later, we were back at our seats. Ridge passed me the drink he'd bought me, and Dylan leaned in to give my son a big sloppy kiss. I knew Brody could taste my cum on Dylan's lips, just like I'd tasted his earlier. 

    When they were done kissing, Brody made immediate eye contact with me. "You taste good, Dad," his eyes and his grin seemed to say. At least that's what I heard in my head.