LACHLAN

I wandered into the main lounge in a racked-off mood. This was turning into the worst week in a long time. Last night had been the pits, watching her sail down the road on the back of that sleaze ball's bike, flaunting herself in front of both of us. Terry had been equally tight-lipped, although he hadn't commented on it. Just downed the rest of a bottle of Scotch. We'd spent the night on the cane chairs on the porch, talking, smoking and bitching about women- our women especially. Didn't they know a good man when they saw him? What did they want that we couldn't give them? Why did they have to act like a pack of tarts and rub our noses in it? We should have taken a trip into SF and hit a whorehouse and showed them what we were capable of instead of sitting around like fucking lapdogs being walked all over by them. At intervals we would stand up and piss off the balcony in the direction of the Temple. Somehow it made us both feel better to show a bit of disrespect for the hallowed ground. As Terry said at one point, raising a middle finger in the direction of the brightly lit building and the distant sounds of laughter. "Sit on this, boys and girls." Somehow that made both of us crack up laughing.

"I'd like to ram my toe cap up the arse of the little runt who's sending those daily reports..." Terry mused into his glass at one point as he ground yet another butt into the wooden deck.

"You reckon it's just a wind up? I asked him.

He shrugged  "Who the fuck knows? They can go wild when they haven't got a decent bloke around to keep them in hand. They egg each other on...soon as anyone issues Tink with a challenge she will be away. She's completely mental, ya know? Sometimes I could cheerfully wring her neck..."

"I reckon she's all talk, Terry. You didn't have to watch her sail past on the back of your mate's bike...Christ...if I'd had a rifle..."

"Hey, mate...it's just a ride. They'll be back in a while. Dino won't touch her. He won't cross me..."

Terry isn't always right. I was startled from my uncomfortable sleep, in the dawn's early light, propped up in the chair- we must have passed out somewhere before daylight, booze and exhaustion getting the drop on us - by the returning bike. She didn't even look away this time. I jumped out of my seat, knocking Terry's legs off the rail and he woke with a grunt. "Fuck!" was his response as he realised who it was passing by.

It got better. Hando wandered out with a couple of pieces of paper in his hands. "Oi, you two should enjoy this as much as I just did. Wish I'd been on the balcony. Bet he gave it to her real good, hey - a bushman's ride. Waltzing Tink in the billabong, hey? She is one horny little tart, I'll give her that..."

Terry reacted but I grabbed him before he could launch a punch; Hando skipped back, boxer-style and giggled. Christ, he might be a digger but he's a disgrace to the name. I swear I'll give it to him good and proper one of these days...

We shouldn't have read it but he'd stuck the sheets in our hands and you just can't stop yourself. It was a load of bloody swill, if you ask me, but you have to wonder...

 

 

Terry had crumpled up the paper and bowled it into the garden before I had even finished reading. He kicked over the chair and walked inside. Reckon he went to bed. That's where I went. Not before switching off my phone- I wasn't in the mood for 'Happy Birthday, honey,' somehow. Some birthday.

 

*

 

I slept off and on all day. Couldn't be arsed even to get out of bed. Staggered down in my skivs at some point and made myself something to eat, drank a pint of milk, frightened the daily who was trying to clear up the crap left by the lot of us. Bud and Cort were hitting the basketball hoop outside, Max was reading on the back deck but no one else was around. I went back to my room and felt sorry for myself. You'd think one of them would have remembered. It was on the fucking calendar.

Early evening I got up, threw on a pair of jeans and wandered downstairs, flopping on the armchair and started flicking over TV channels. Hando was sitting there reading something, dressed rather smartly for once. I wondered if he was going out. The TV was crap, of course. Bud was reading a newspaper. Game shows, unfunny comedies, films no one would ever want to watch so why were they made? Documentaries about political dictatorships...

"Oi...I was watching that...stop fucking flirting it about. You're not the only one here, ya know?" Hando reached over and grabbed the remote to return to the channel to his documentary.

"Thought you'd grown out of fascism, mate. We won the war. Hadn't you noticed..."

"What the fuck do you know, flyboy? Don't suppose you'd have lasted five minutes against a couple of Messerschmidts." He smirked and continued drinking from a bottle of beer. Terry walked in and stood, leaning on the wall, watching. Bud dropped the newspaper casually.

"We won the Air War as well, you dickhead. Pity you weren't in Dresden when we sent the B52s in..."

"Don't fucking talk like that. Dresden was a fucking abomination...and you know it..."

"The Blitz? Coventry? Targetting the Jewish Hospitals ...don't talk to me about abomination...the whole fucking Nazi Party was an act against humanity...just that you're so fucking ignorant you haven't got a clue..." I'd had enough of his crap. He hadn't been there. He hadn't lost mates like I had. He thinks it's some kind of misunderstood noble cause.

"Ignorant? Your woman doesn't seem to think so. She reckons I know a thing or two. Notice she asked for me first. Wanted breaking in properly...taught her a few tricks...like the way she sucks dick, Curry?" He pulled out his tongue and wiggled it crudely.

I blew. I was out of that chair and onto him like streaked lightening. Got a good right hook in, too, although he came back with a left to my gut that winded me. I was just about to go in for another when Bud grabbed me and hauled me across the room. He is one strong-armed bugger. Struggle as I might, I couldn't get out of the iron grip he had me in. Terry had Hando in an arm lock, his arm round his neck. I noticed that he was manhandling him more so than Bud was with me- in fact apart from holding me, Bud was pretty gentle. He even told me to cool it...the little motherfucker would get what was coming to him, stuff like that.

Terry let Hando's arm go but I saw his fist clench and he rammed him hard in the kidneys with a smile and "Sorry, mate, my hand just slipped," as Hando crumpled to the ground, landing full on the coffee table which creaked under his dead weight. The whole piece swayed and then crashed under him. Hando lay their groaning; Bud and Terry exchanged wry looks. I sniffed and wiped my nose. It was bleeding slightly.

Before we could do much more, Cort ran in. "Aw..fuck...aw...fuck...she'll fucking kill me! Lord, are you a pack o' animals or what? The place is like a pig sty. There's food everywhere, beer cans, piles of dirty clothes, the bathrooms are disgusting, the porch is full of cigarette burns and butts, you've all been pissing in the flower beds and now this. Iz will have my balls, aw fuck...she warned me...you don't know what she's like..."

At that the entire room burst out laughing. Max, Jack and Biebe wandered in to find out what the ruckus was all about and caught Cort in full whine. Even Hando rolling on the floor, pulled up his legs and howled at the sight of our fearsome gunslinger shivering at the thought of the wrath of his woman. Mind you, I reckon I wouldn't be too ready to explain the state of the house to her either. She's quite a spitfire when she gets going. But we weren't letting him get away with it.

"Save it, padre...you scared of a little doll? Forget pistol-whipped- Cort's pussy-whipped. Yes darlin', no darlin'...let me just take out the trash, darlin'...fuck Cort...show her who's boss..." Bud started.

"Play that game, Cort and you are fucked, mate. Start wearing an apron and they will have your balls in a vice in no time. Mess is good for them. Keeps them busy." Terry added.

"I rather think a man needs to make it clear who is the master of the house, Parson. There are some things that we just do not do. Thus it pleases them to think that we are like little children who need their guidance - it gives them a feeling of superiority, misguided as it may be..." Jack mused.

"Have a little human charity, Brothers. Y'all are putting my head in the noose, and you're gonna leave me twisting in the wind."

"Hey, catch this?" Biebe pitched a baseball at Terry who caught it and bowled it over to Max who then spun it at me. Cort was jumping around trying to intercept it. "Come on guys, don't start that...you'll break something else....fuck you..." Hando was on his feet now and he caught the ball deftly. "OK, padre...see how good your reflexes are...I'm aiming for the flower vase..." and he let it fly in the direction of a rather splendid floral arrangement. Cort leapt up and retrieved the ball with a laugh. "Can't beat me at that game. I'm faster than all of you rolled together."

"That so? Let's see. Pitch it over..." Max threw out the challenge and from then it was bloody mayhem. Wherever they spun it, Cort was onto it- you would think he had about eight arms. Each throw was aimed at a different ornament, the light fitting, the TV screen, the patio windows but he had them all. We were all hooting with laughter, Cort included- he was daring us to give him one he couldn't manage. And then he got his wish. As he jumped for a shot from Jack aimed at a statue on a pedestal, Hando kicked his legs from under him, Cort pitched forward and missed it. The ball hit the statue dead on and it shattered into a million pieces.

"Oh no, not that one. It's her favourite." He knelt to collect the pieces of the shattered statue. "The Serpent Dancer. She got it in Crete. It's her most precious possession. Dammit, it'll break her heart."

The atmosphere suddenly sobered. I looked around the lounge room, the shattered remnants of the table, the broken shards of the statue and I guess we all felt the same. Pretty shabby to move into a woman's home and trash it like a gang of teenage hoons. Red faces all round. We spent the next hour cleaning up the place, now sheepish and cooperating like a real team. I even saw Hando vacuuming the carpet, Jack swabbing the deck and Max polishing. Wish I'd had a camera. Terry was on the phone to some antique dealer in London that he knew who reckoned if he faxed him a picture he could find a replica and have it flown out by priority airmail the next day. It would, however, cost a bloody fortune. Cort was scouring photographs to find one of the lounge showing the statue but, by about seven, we had found the piccie, emailed it to London and received a reply that the statue would be on its way asap. Cort breathed a sigh of relief. There was only the coffee table to replace now....

The place was looking pretty decent when Hando suddenly came up and clapped me on the back. "Hey, mate...no hard feelings? I reckon I was a bit out of line. Now don't you think you ought to smarten yourself up a bit? The girls'll be here in half an hour..."

"Girls?" I asked.

"Gotta get fucked on your birthday, mate. It's a rule. At least once..."

"The Sisters are coming over tonight?" I asked, like a schoolboy.

"The Sisters?" The whole gang roared with laughter. "No, sunshine...the hookers. We've got a nice little party driving up from the smoke. No expense spared. Real high-class tail. Put on a show and then ...whatever you fancy, mate. You get first pick, Curry. Just leave something for the rest of us, hey?" Terry grinned. "Spent half the day pulling a few strings here. Even ordered an open-topped limo that will unfortunately lose its way and accidentally go to the Temple. I must have got my directions fucked...how unlike me..." Bloody hell. They hadn't forgotten, the bastards.

"So...you remembered my birthday, then, did ya?" I grinned.

"We did. Someone mailed us a reminder. But we thought birthday parties are for little boys. Stag night...newly 'married' man, more our style...Curry...you are getting the works...so get up there. Shower, shave and wear clean undies...'cos they are coming off, mate. And let's see how the ladies over the road appreciate this one, hey, lads?" Terry was in assertive mode. Not that we all needed much encouragement. Too right, I thought to myself. Let's see how they like to see us letting our hair down. Because I think we can do more damage than a group of girls. You betcha we can.

 

 

TERRY

They deserve it. What can I say? This Temple lark was a bad idea from the get-go. So we have a night for the men - why not? Lachlan was having a birthday and he was recently roped and tied like the rest of us - only right that we should mark his enslavement in the ritual manner. Get pissed up, debagged and rooted. How could any sane woman possibly complain about that?

The food arrived just on time. We'd had it catered. All the crap men like to eat, none of this low- cal rabbit food, thank you very much. We wanted meat: chicken, steaks, ribs etc; junk: pizzas, hot dogs, burgers and gallons of beer to wash it down with. The music system was pumping out rock music as we got ourselves tanked up and awaited the arrival of the ladies of the night. The Sisters must have heard the row and seen the lights from their vantage point. Hope they were paying attention.

So there we were all lying around on the front porch, throwing food at each other and necking tinnies as if beer was going to be rationed. The conversation turned to the purpose of the evening.

"So, Curry...lost your virginity yet, or are you waiting for the wedding night?" I asked.

"Piss off, Thorne...that's personal."

"That means he hasn't." Bud observed. "You need a few tips from experienced men? Just say the word, kid."

Lachlan gave him a withering look. "Day I ask you lot for help will be a cold day in Hell, mate. I'm twenty-nine...youngest man here. Know what that means, fellas?"

"You're still looking for her clit?" Hando remarked. We all burst out laughing. 

"Perhaps I could give you a compass reading on that, sir?" Jack offered and laughed heartily at his joke. He wasn't the only one. Lachlan blew air out slowly.

"I meant I can get it up when and where I want. Don't pretend you're still as active as you were when you were my age. I'm not buying that one," he riposted.

"Ah...that is well and good but they aren't really very interested in the number of erections you can manage in one day, boy. Can you sustain it? That is the real skill. Can you hold back even when they are giving you the benefit of their tender touch? The proof is not how many times you reach Elysium but how many they do. I would be more than happy to give you a few hints on self control..." Max was smirking at his Stoicism. I swear that wasn't the point of that particular philosophy.

"They haven't complained yet, make no mistake, mate." Lachlan defended his virility. I didn't get involved. Tink is remarkably dreamy-eyed when his name comes up; I didn't want to make myself feel worse by facing a retort that might hit home.

"Technique's for small dicks. Seems like if you're big enough, they ain't gonna complain. Maybe that's your problem; Creator not given you enough in your pants?"

General merriment broke out as Bud grabbed his own groin and gesticulated crudely. 

"Maybe flyboy was a choirboy...reckon he was a bit of a good guy. You know the Creator. He thinks of everything- right hair, right walk, carriage, accent- he's sure to think of dick size..." Cort chuckled.

"Anything you lot are packing...Jesus Christ...what is it with you older guys? You got a chip on your shoulder? Makes you wonder what really goes on when the bedroom door shuts..." Lachlan threw down his gauntlet.

"Think that's a challenge too far, men. Let's get him measured. Bud...hold him still. Let's give him a stag night special..." I was enjoying this - been years since I'd been in a group of drunken boys determined to humiliate a mate. Too long.

"Christ...you mad fuckers...NO!!!" Curry screamed but it was hopeless. We had him stark bollock naked in no time, Bud produced a set of cuffs and we got his hands out of the way. Then, pushed up against a wall, Biebe produced a digital camera and we snapped away. Meanwhile Cort found a tape measure and we got a sweet little close up of his dick and the tape. Humiliation complete...almost. I must say, however that he had nothing to worry about. There are clearly some things that even the Creator can't control.

We spent the next half an hour faxing pictures to the Temple with comments like: 

 

 

It was the kind of puerile caper that makes grown men hysterical; the complete silence from over the road made us even more amused. They had definitely got the message.

Curry recovered from his little upset and was laughing himself by the time we freed his hands and allowed him access to his pants again. He was even beginning to strut a bit- no one had dared to laugh at his equipment. Enough said.

The conversation turned to bitching as the booze flowed. Hookers on their way or not, we were all heartily sick of the performance from across the way.

"Wonder who's got the Bareback Rider tonight? It's a wonder he can raise his leg not to mention swing it over." I observed, dragging on a ciggie as we sat around waiting for the main event to arrive.

"What's so fuckin' special about riding a horse with a bare ass? Like I couldn't do it? Jesus Christ!" Cort said.

"Like you'd want to? Where the fuck he put his balls? Or has he got any?" Bud grunted.

"If I have to hear his name again...East this...East that...fucking head case..." Hando added.

"What's his attraction? I find it incomprehensible. He's a mere boy, raw and unschooled. What draws women to swoon over him?" Jack wondered out loud.

"What the fuck's he got that we haven't?" Biebe added.

"Thirty inch waist?" I observed wryly. "Let's face it...that's what this week is about. They want young flesh. They think they'll be tasting us years ago. Fucking joke. When was I ever like Arthur? Dominic? Andy? For Christ's sake!"

Maximus laughed. "They like what they can control. Gives them a sense of ownership. Take it as a compliment. We are too powerful for them. Let them play their games, they'll come back to us and be begging for our favour. Just wait and see."

"After they plead headaches for the first few nights. They won't want us to see the bites and bruises- not to mention the sore cunts. Bud was talking himself into a blood rush again.

"That reminds me...where is Jeffrey tonight? Has anyone seen him?" 

They all shook their heads. "He was around in the early afternoon. Then he went out said he was getting his hair cut or something," Biebe remarked.

"Hair cut? Mitchell? That scruff bag?" Lachlan laughed. "He got a date?" The room fell silent.

"Where did he meet a bloke? I mean he's been closeted with us the past few days?"

"Fuck...he'll be cruising in Frisco. He's not interested in tonight. He's a fuckin' swish now for sure. You should see him and that boyfriend of his...he wouldn't know what to do anymore if one of the girls makes a move on him..." Bud snorted

I disagreed. "Bud...you never forget.. Don't tell me he doesn't know which hole is which."

"Reckon he's been servicing your old lady recently, so don't start giving me that shit..." Bud snapped back.

"My point exactly. White, use your brain. Mitchell might like hairy arses and sucking dick but he has no problem in keeping the Sisters happy. Which is making me think. Cort...you're quiet all of a sudden. Why? What do you know?"

"Me? Nothin' I swear. Why would I know shit?"

"Well you've been sniffing around that place all week trying to get in - don't you pretend you haven't. If Mitchell's found a way in, you'd know."

"Well..." He stopped and looked uneasy. "He might have gone over to fix a plumbing emergency. There was a call early evening." His wince gave him away.

"How many plumbers you know who have their hair cut prior to a plumbing job? The rest, padre. Make your confession or you are going in the pool again and we might just hold you down this time...."

He held up his hands. "OK...they asked me to cover for her...they all expected to see Jeff this week and then the boys wouldn't let him in...I mean...you know ..." Bud had charged, chair flying and lunging for Cort. It took the combined force of Max, Jack and Hando to hold him off. I pulled Cort outside the room.

"You mean the little poofta is actually doing the nasty with a woman tonight? Jesus Christ...how come he gets preferential treatment? I love it - eight heterosexual men have to go without and the one poofta gets laid by a woman? I should have your fucking balls, you sad bastard. I've heard of spiritual guidance but this is a stage too far..."

I told him to fetch some more beer and keep out of the way until Bud had calmed down. How many blues were there going to be before this night was over? Back in the room there was still some aggro - but now it was directed at Max. Someone had made a comment about his little session yesterday morning and that he should keep his mouth shut tonight seeing as he had had more than anyone this week. Jack subsequently jumped up and challenged anyone who mentioned a Sister's in a scurrilous manner that might harm her reputation and Hando observed, "Well, she did fuck him, ya Fat Bastard, so reckon that means she's not a virgin anymore. Stop griping. She's had more cocks than you've had puddings, you tosser." The next ten minutes were spent keeping the two of them apart although I rather think the general was getting away with it lightly. He kept quiet and put on his noble face- and necked a few more beers.

From then on, The Brothers concentrated on getting themselves in the mood. More drinks and the conversation turned to sex- well, wouldn't you know? But we began with our second favourite drinking subject; I will not be crude enough to explain what got us on that track.

"You could imagine what they would have had to say about that," observed Lachlan. Work it out, girls.

"If women don't fart...how come they don't explode?" Cort mused.

Hando belched and laughed. "They fart but they just pretend it was us...or the dog..."

Biebe stood up and sauntered over to piss on an ornamental plant in a pot. He seemed thoughtful. "What is their problem with shit? Like we don't know they do it?"

"Yeah, like they crap roses?" We all shook our heads at the absurdity of the female sex.

"If I go into the woods and say something when she isn't around...am I still wrong?" I added.

"Fucking A, Terry, what is that? And if we forget to lift up the seat or put it down...I love it when they sit down and scream 'cos you've pissed all over the seat...worth the fucking earache..." Not a man among them didn't crack up at that observation. The revenge of the downtrodden male- piss on a bog seat- the thought of how pathetic that actually was did cross my mind but I didn't point it out in the present company.

"And if they catch you wanking... "Stop doing that...the bed's rocking..." Hando lit up and muttered. "Where the fuck else am I supposed to do it? S'my bed."

Lachlan nodded sagely. "I read this article about wanking in an Aussie newspaper...these scientists from Melbourne Uni reckon that  a bloke ought to blow his pipes out at least 3 times a week for health reasons...apart from giving it to the girls. Makes you think...perhaps you should do it every morning in the shower...?"

"You mean you don't anyway?" Cort snorted. "Hey, Hando...didn't know you were a scientist and all?" Hando leant back and gave the usual clenched fist shake at that. Have you ever seen drunken men when one of them says or does something not very funny but they all fall about? That was us then. For some reason Hando was called Professor Skin for the rest of the evening.

In the lull that followed, Lachlan chipped in with a joke.

"Hey there were these two sperm leading the pack, swimming for their lives. One says to the other: 'We anywhere near the ovaries yet, mate?' The other one replies, "No, fucking miles yet, mate....we're only just past the tonsils..." Lachlan laughed so much at his own joke that he fell off the chair and rolled around on his back. Mind you, the rest of them weren't much better. Jack was all "I say, sir, well done...that was excellent....tonsils, yes sir, most amusing if I may say so..."

"Here, lads. What makes this sound?" I barked and clapped my arms like flippers. They all looked confused. "Looks like a seal to me, Thorne," said Jack, "Not sure I get your point..."

"Curry...coming...that right, Flipper...didn't she mention seal man or something?" The others roared and Lachlan pulled himself back into his chair. "Very witty, boss, I'll get you for that."

"Count on it, Flipper. And I'll get you back." My eyes glinted and I rested my tongue on my lower lip. Nothing like a good wind up.

Before he could think of a retort, however, Biebe introduced another profound topic for us to contemplate... "Where is the strangest place you've had it? "

Well, that was a doozie of an opener. "Terry?" Why do I always have to go first?

"Wank or shag?" I wanted clarification.

"Wank," came John's measured reply.

I thought. This required an evasive reply.... "Somewhere out of sight of those fucking workmen...." They appreciated that. "Cort?"

"The forest," he answered. "I like the open sky..." I pulled a face and looked at the soles of my boots. I'd been walking out there earlier. Cort grinned and called on the others. One by one they 'fessed up. Funniest was Hando's remark of "In East's bed." That was greeted by cheers of approval. When it was Lachlan's turn and he answered smugly, "In front of Heather..."we all threw food at him. Finally we returned the ball to Biebe's court, as it were, and he just laughed. "Wank? In Alaska? You want it to fall off? I once had to revive mine in a glass of brandy..."

"Why?" Bud asked.

"I'd rather not say," was John's enigmatic reply. "How about sex, then...strangest place you got laid...Terry." Me again?

"Fox hole," They all looked at me as if I had said something strange. Which I suppose I had. "Well, I was stuck there all night in a bombardment. Had to keep warm..." I explained

"In a fox's hole?" Lachlan snorted and spat beer a few feet. I raised my eyebrows but Max was onto that.

"Surely one of your men would have been more docile, Thorne?" I swore colourfully but had to laugh.

"They have women in the forces these days, Max...really helps on those lonely nights on guard duty... I believe that is the point of females in the army..." I smirked at that and he raised his glass in acknowledgment. "OK, smart arse generalissimo...did you ever get it out in front of the legions?" I threw over at him, the others eager for an answer.

"Of course...on a daily basis in the bathhouse- but if you are referring to my most challenging sexual adventure...probably the couch of the emperor's daughter- in his tent-at the camp," he added the details with relish and that voice of his. Hoots all round.

"Lucky they didn't cut it off for that", Bud observed.

"That was the penalty for discovery...coupled with having it rammed down your throat..." There were winces all round but I wasn't letting him away with that.

"So they never caught you then? Or did they?" and gave him my smile.

Max looked at me and I read his thoughts but he obviously decided against vocalising them. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he said it; I looked away.

Now Jacko had not been following this conversation properly, having wandered off to get another bottle of rum from inside. "Did I miss something?"

"We were reminiscing about former amorous adventures, Jack. Where's the strangest place you've had congress?" I asked with a laugh, "The cable tier?"

Jack guffawed. "That hardly passes for strange. Where else would a midshipman go? The favourite location on any ship. You had to queue some nights. I dare say my most daring escapade would probably be the crow's nest. Although the 75 foot roll in high seas could often startle a young lady..."

Bud chuckled, "Your dick's 75 foot long? Jesus fucking Christ!" Jack gave him the eye.

"Hey Cort...what 'bout you?"

"Convent," Cort said straight back and drained his bottle of beer, leaning back with his foot on the rail and stretching, a big grin on his face. "I couldn't help it...but I at least waited until she finished her rosary...then I gave her absolution - after she had given it to me..."

"You sure were a bad man, Cort," Bud grinned.

Cort grinned even wider, "Hey...that was after I reformed!" Fucking padre is the only name for him, mate. "But Wendell, my old friend, do share with us your best..."

"Morgue." 

"What?" Seven men shouted at once.

"Hey....there was no one about- like the stiffs cared?" He looked at the faces of the others and smirked. "So I was stiff...where else to go?"

I had to know, "Bud, who did you do? Be careful how you answer this...."

"None of your fuckin' business, shitbird- but she was breathing. Well she was before- afterwards...who can say?"

Biebe groaned at that and shook his head. All eyes turned to him. He looked about and grimaced. "On the Zamboni."

"You mean in the cab?" Lachlan asked.

"No...I mean on the top- the view was better - The Northern Lights- we didn't want to miss 'em."

"Is that when you needed the brandy?" Maximus queried as he swirled cognac around his own glass.

"No...I found somewhere else warm enough that night - warm and wet enough," John smiled at the memory.

Hando shivered. "Too fucking cold for me, mate."

"Not on the parts that mattered," giggled John. "Best cure for frostbite there is. But if not in the cold...where did you do it, Hando? Or perhaps we should be asking - have you ever actually done it conventionally in a bed?"

Hando looked around the group of us and I sense a change in his expression; despite the bravado and the strut, his eyes looked deep and pained. "School."

I tried to lighten the moment suspecting I knew what was coming. "What's so strange about having it behind the bike sheds at school?"

"It was in the principal's office." He shrugged. "The principal was a she," he sneered, "It was either that or get sacked for some shit I did."

"How old were you?" Maximus asked quietly.

He hunched his shoulders. "Dunno. Thirteen...fourteen..."

"How old was she?" He asked a second question. Hando looked away and snatched up a cigarette. Lighting it, he muttered, "Too fucking old for a kid of that age." He seemed to shiver slightly and we all sobered up a little. Perhaps we should have expected something like this in view of his background. But he snapped out of it. "Who's fuckin' dodgin'? Curry...come on..."

"In a plane over the Atlantic.." We all moaned as if it was nothing to skite about..."In freefall..."

That impressed them. I just muttered under my breath, "As long as it wasn't the English Channel..." He looked at me but he didn't grin, merely shaking his head as if to convey whom he didn't mean. I don't reckon Curry is the sort who enjoys that kind of one-upmanship.

At that moment there was a loud horning at the door - the ladies had arrived- so the men put on their game faces (that is their sex game faces) and welcomed them in. Then the fax machine started to spew out a series of sheets. I swear those women are getting worse. It was a group of shots of a line of men naked from the waist down. Title:

 

 

Bad timing, girls. 

 

 

In they came. Eight of the sweetest little pussies you have ever seen. Got them from one of Dino's favourite little clubs. Well, actually it's one we used to both frequent in the old days when I was still a naughty boy and had to pay for it. Chose to pay for it more like. C'mon girls- you know we like nothing more than handing over an exorbitant sum of money and getting personal service of the most intimate and satisfying kind. No headaches, no PMS, no multiple orgasms, no foreplay, no 'don't come in my mouth!'....

We had cleared an area around the pool, set out chairs, ice box loaded with tinnies, bottles of Scotch, Rum, Cognac...and we settled back to watch the show. One of the advantages of the deck is that it's visible from the Temple...explains why Cort has been flashing his dick out there half the week. The floorshow would take place in full view of anyone who wished to take a gander. What a pleasant thought.

Lachlan was introduced as the boy of the hour.

"Stag night and birthday rolled into one. He's a virgin as well, so go easy on him. Just make sure you empty his tank. Get the old system flushed out..." I smiled sweetly at the madam, a rather attractive older women who looked like she might actually be more fun that the young things. The look she gave me seemed to suggest I might be on a promise if I played my cards right.

Lachlan bridled. "Take no notice of him, love. He thinks he's funny. But I've no objection to having my engine drained...I'm a quick refuel...my turn around time has to be seen to be believed...."

The men started to chant at that- you know that bear-like grunting they make when they are getting into the group arousal mood? Tinnies were pulled, beer was sprayed around and the comments were getting cruder and cruder. The girls took themselves off to get ready.

"This is more like it," Lachlan muttered. "Know what pisses me off most? The fucking rules. Who made them? Anyone ask any of us?"

"Damn straight, flyboy," Cort replied. "All this shit about me being wet and peaches..."

"Peaches? What man wants a diet of peaches?' Jack retorted. "We need red meat and spotted dick."

We all howled at that. "You gonna rub your spotted dick all on of these ladies? Somehow I think she might prefer peaches..." Bud smirked.

"She will far prefer my dick," he bellowed. Jack was well away...three sails in the wind in fact.

"Don't you just hate it when they start putting you on a low fat diet? " John started whining. Women and diets.

Cort nodded and put on a high pitched voice. "Do you know how much fat there is in one avocado?"

"I want to rub it on your body not feed you on guacamole, darlin'," Cort answered himself.

"Can't we use no-fat ice cream? You're putting weight on!" I aped Tink's precise tone. "Is there a sugar-free chocolate body paint?"

"Christ...can't they take a night off?" Bud grunted. "How many calories of fat can she lick off my dick anyway?"

"Speak for yourself, Sir," answered Jack in a flash. Bud rolled his eyes.

"I say we rewrite the rules," Max observed. "Curry...you first...number one...."

"Unrestricted access to the cockpit... or in other words...No knickers during visits."

General agreement.

"Thorne ....number Two...someone write these down..." Max continued. Hando grabbed a pad and a pen.

"Mud...available on demand. Our demand. No excuses of 'It will ruin my hair' or 'It gets up my nails'.

"Fucking A, Terry," Bud shouted. "Number Three...they make damn sure it ain't that time of the month...don't they have pills for that shit these days?"

"They love that excuse, mate. Makes them feel like they're suffering and we're animals. Is it our fault that we're built properly?" Lachlan moaned.

Jack broke in. "Red meat and no healthy lean fare. If they want vigorous men, they need to feed us as such."

"Word, Jack. The phrase: 'I am putting you on a diet' must never cross their lips," Cort added. "Make that number four."

"I got one." Hando threw over. "We can fucking ask them to get their asses over to our digs. I'm running a business. No time for dancing around their timetables. They want us. They do what we say. Number five. Brothers to issue invites.

"About fucking time, too. Then maybe I wouldn't find myself on page 8." I grumbled. I'm still pissed at that one.

"Max? Reckon you must have a bellyache. Number Six?" Cort shouted over.

"Sex? Number Six, I mean...let me see... "Threesomes must always include two women..." Fuck me...the general's human after all.

At that moment Biebe stepped in to the breach. "It is a Sister's job to keep a man warm, his belly full, his beer cold and his bed hot...."

"And his dick hard," added Bud. No one was about to disagree with number seven. Speaks for itself surely?

Cort leant forward and joined in. " Bareback is not allowed to frighten the horses with sex acts in the stable...I will not have Bonita put off her feed...and he better not fucking try to ride her without his pants," Cort growled.

Max counted down. "That's octo....eight...we need two more at least..."

"I got another," I interrupted. "During footie matches- any sport on TV in fact...Sisters keep their mouths shut and no comments of...look at his bum...isn't he cute?...what's an offside?...in fact they don't speak at all unless to offer to make sandwiches and ply us with tinnies..." Grunts of agreement rose on all sides.

Bud muttered. "Unless to offer a blow at half time....good tension reliever..." 

"Hey...I got another...The Brother in command of the joy stick has complete control of the flight path...or in other words...we choose the position..." Lachlan was back in the air.

"Too right," I added. "I only have one back...have they any idea how we sweat while they are lying there and enjoying it?"

"We might refer to that as the Master and Commander rule," Jack mused..."In fact the whole set ought to have a title. Perhaps we could borrow the obvious. The Articles of War? For surely, the game of diplomacy we play with these ladies has all the hallmarks of a complex military campaign. They may have the odd victory but we must secure the war..."

We raised our glasses to that. "The Articles..."

"Perhaps we could just add a final one?" Lachlan grinned. "Falling asleep afterwards is obligatory...." A cheer rose from the ranks... "For men over 30, that is..." He was tipped out of his chair for that.

"Doesn't that make eleven?" Max asked, counting on his fingers.

"So we can't fucking count? What the fuck!" Bud retorted and we all laughed some more.

"Then the 11 articles, it is. I'll get it up on the board tomorrow." Hando volunteered. Nerdo really does like his 'puter. On the other hand none of us would have had the faintest idea how to start.

"That should throw a spark in the henhouse," Jack misquoted, "and set the whole arsenal ablaze!" We got his message loud and clear.

We were all patting ourselves on the back about our creative genius when the raucous din was broken by an unearthly shout. It was enough to rattle your teeth. A man was in the throes of death...or about to die coming. I recognised the voice. You don't hear it much, but its husky gravel tones are unmistakable. Egan was howling at the moon and the name he was shrieking was "TEEEENNNNNNERRRRRRR".

An eerie hush feel about us as we cleared our throats and played with our drinks. Hando said nothing but his face took on that savage intensity and his eyes were glinting. This boy was going to bust loose tonight. In the awkward lull that followed the war cry, the women mercifully entered and the show began. Dancing, stripping, pole dancing, and then the real fun began. One for each of us, they strutted over wearing g-strings and six inch heels. Lap dancing. I fucking love it. Wasn't the only one. One girl ground her perfect buttocks into my face; she smelt of peaches- I tell no lie- I licked; she was coated in some kind of edible film-she just let me lick it up there and then. I didn't dare even look up. You could smell the testosterone rising all around- they were all getting a similar treatment.

That was when the lights were dimmed and the floorshow began to a burst of pounding music and the sudden spotlight hitting the line of strutting lovelies. We certainly quietened down at that point. No one said a thing. Tongues were hanging out. It was like a beauty contest where the judges got to sample their favourites. Interesting to check out who they were going for.

"Over here, love!" I pulled a tall curvaceous blonde over; her tits must have 40 DD. 

"Tits...what are they? Been a while...almost forgot about them," I observed. Then Saffron (that's what she said her name was) took residence on my knee, big pert tits in my face and her hot little pussy grinding on the bolt that was threatening to burst out of my pants. I had to breathe deeply, and remember a prana that has helped me once or twice before. But my groin was beginning to hurt. Her tits were amazing and I went for it- by the sound of it, I wasn't the only one. A quick glance up and it was like a scene from a porno movie. It was naked female flesh and squirming bodies all over the place.

Hando had a slender brunette with thick dark hair. I had purposely passed on her although frankly she was exactly the sort of woman I went for. I think that that was the point. But he had caught my look and faced me up in his way. Turning her head a little roughly so that I could see her face, framed with dark hair all messed up, he said: "Who does she remind you of Terry? Dead ringer, mate," and he thrust her towards his groin. I looked away but not before I saw Bud and Cort exchange glances. So I'm fucking obvious, am I? Tough shit.

Just then Hando stood up with a roar and tossed the little brunette he was with over his shoulder. I expected him to disappear off- there wasn't much chance that he wouldn't get his rocks off, if it was offered free. I was wrong. Not about his rocks. This time it was about where he was off to. First he placed her down on the deck and then he called us all to attention. One by one the couples parted and the girls nestled around their man. All eyes were on the stage. Hando asked for music. He just said "Fucking Music." We all looked at each other. Adolf was gonna do it.

"Bet you can't get it up, Skin," Bud snorted. "Let's see if you're all they say?"

Hando sneered and grabbed the girl's hand, cupping his groin with it and saying..."Show them, baby." She did. As slick as you like, she had his zip down and he was in her hands. Fuck she was good. On her knees, she gave him head that would have sucked the brains out of most men. Hando was struggling but he can be as stoical as Max when he wants to be. This was going to be good.

I caught Lachlan's grimace- either he didn't approve or he was wondering if he was next up. I frowned and looked at Bud and Cort who were both laughing into their drinks. I gave my disapproving look but they weren't fooled.

"Get a load of Action Man. What's the face for? Hando beat ya to it?" Bud grinned.

He then indicated Cort who was engrossed in the willowy red head in his arms. "Check out the padre. Reckon we won't see him until spring. How long you reckon it's going to take Quick Draw to get his pistola out?" Bud laughed. Cort merely shook his bottle in Bud's direction, showering his girl in beer. Bud licked it off. "Beats fucking peaches..." he grunted.

Max was saying nothing. Actually he wasn't very interested in the floor show. Guess he's seen plenty of that in his former life. The blonde honey on his lap was holding his attention and they didn't look too far away from busting loose either.  "Hey, Max, another blonde? Watch out or you'll be looking for your hand tomorrow," I shouted over as he raised his left arm to indicate he wasn't wearing a watch this time.

Biebe was a surprise. He was taking it all in and giving plenty of attention to the lady on his lap. He suddenly spoke. "What happens here, stays here. You got that, men? What they don't know will fire their imaginations...and if we don't admit to it, we didn't do it. Anyone who breaks the code...we are talking naked in the ice hill, at the very least. Agreed?'

General agreement. Jack and his girl fell off their chair- they were laughing but something was mightily impressing her. She kept screeching..."What the fuck? OH MY GOD! Is that real?" One can only imagine what she had found. One of his war wounds? Or was it his big gun?

Meanwhile Hando was now fully committed. He was naked in all his painted glory...pretty fascinating actually to view the picture show, not to mention the sight of the young lady of his choice, riding him - she was all over him like an anaconda. He suddenly flipped her over and pulled her to her knees. Christ- there is something about watching doggy style that raises the tempo. He was pulling out and giving us a vantage view of her naked snatch before ramming her like a fucking piston. The place was up. Guys were shouting crude encouragement, the girls were squealing, chairs were being knocked back, couples were writhing on the floor, music was pumping...I suddenly wondered if they were watching. I suddenly hoped they weren't. I would fucking hate her to see this. Men are such animals.

I thought he would kill her before he came- the girl was like a rag doll now in his arms. Then his back arched and the men let out a howl that must have been heard throughout the Sonoma valley as he slumped on her, shuddering helplessly- I almost felt sorry for him. He was completely fucked. As he rolled back and hit the floor next to the girl, I saw he was rubbered up. I was a little surprised. And very pleased. He has always worried me. Maybe he isn't such a loose cannon after all.

The atmosphere calmed a little. Hando and his lady rolled around languidly for a while until Cort told him to get his pants on and put it away. He loped off holding his dick tenderly. Reckon the boy might be nursing an injury tomorrow. Drinks were passed around and then Chantal (the madam) announced that it was time the birthday boy got his treat. Lachlan visibly paled. But, fair play, he didn't back off. Pulling him to his feet, the girl he was with led him back to the stage and a few others joined her. He hadn't a chance. They circled him like harpies and one by one his clothes hit the deck. Tie, shirt, shoes, socks, pants until he was there in his tented boxers, blushing a bright shade of red and holding his hands over his bolt.

"C'mon fellas...I've been debagged once already tonight...give me a break...don't let me have to sport this in front of you!"

"What do you reckon? " Cort grinned, looking around.

Jack stood up. "I think we should give the man a choice. He may either choose to withdraw like a gentleman and conduct his business in private or we shall insist on satisfaction here. However your word on it, sir -we are expecting no less than a full emptying of the barrels."

Lachlan nodded. "Just let me do in private, OK? It is my birthday."

Max agreed. "You give a man the honourable choice. It is the least we can do."

So Lachlan was dragged off by his date to cheers of "Bet he doesn't last 10 seconds," and "Drops his bombs in one load." He wasn't the only one to slip off at that moment. But I am sworn to secrecy and, as you know, men never break the code of honour. So tough shit, ladies.

Those of us left passed a companionable night in the company of the remaining girls and finished off the booze. The night ended quietly apart from a bit of raucous singing and a chant of: 

 

We are the champions , my friend,
and we are still fucking to the end.
We are the champions...we are the champions ...
no time for losers for we are the champions.... of Perve World

 

But there was a certain over-confidence there that I don't think everyone actually felt. Whatever we were doing, our women were up to much the same thing. Or so it appeared.

Well after midnight when our guests were long gone, I wandered out of my room and found myself down on that porch, watching the Temple in darkness again. Lachlan was sitting there, barefoot and just wearing a pair of jeans.

"Terry. You still up?" he asked.

"Well, I'm awake," I grinned. Lachlan threw the packet of fags at me. I lit one. 

"Have fun?" I asked with a smile.

He looked across. "Let's put it this way. I'm not much of a gentleman. Jack would be disgusted with me."

I nodded. "Didn't reckon you would. Not your style. A few feel like that. But...let's keep the faith, hey? Wouldn't want the ladies to feel too complacent now, would we?"

At that we both laughed and sat together in silence. He's a good bloke. Makes a good Number One. Could teach us all a thing or two about love.

 

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