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Edward Harrington stood at the edge of the Grand Ballroom in the Chase Park Plaza, one of St. Louis’s most iconic hotels, its Art Deco elegance a fitting backdrop for the city’s elite. At 65, Edward was a pillar of the financial world, his wealth built on decades of shrewd investments and a relentless drive that had made him a legend in Missouri’s business circles. His charcoal Brioni suit clung to his still-fit frame, his silver hair neatly combed, exuding the quiet confidence of a man who had conquered every challenge—except one.
Raised in the conservative St. Louis suburbs of the 1960s, Edward had been taught that men like him—straight, stoic, and successful—did not entertain thoughts of other men. Yet, for years, a secret curiosity had simmered beneath his polished exterior. Late at night, in the privacy of his Clayton penthouse, he found himself drawn to online videos that stirred something primal within him. The sight of strong, confident men—naked, unashamed, and consumed by desire—ignited a longing he could no longer suppress. He was particularly captivated by the idea of surrender, of being taken by a dominant man, of feeling the weight and heat of a long, thick, circumcised cock filling him completely. The thought sent shivers through him, a mix of shame and exhilaration that grew stronger with each passing year.
Edward’s desires had taken shape over time. He developed a preference for specific sizes and shapes—rigid, substantial shafts that promised both pleasure and power. The yearning had become an ache, a need he could no longer ignore. Yet, he had never acted on it, bound by the expectations of his upbringing and the life he’d built. That is, until tonight.
The gala was a fundraiser for the St. Louis Art Museum, a glittering affair attended by the city’s wealthiest and most influential. Edward moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his smile polite as he exchanged pleasantries with familiar faces. But his attention was drawn to two men across the room, their presence magnetic, their laughter carrying over the hum of conversation. Julian Whitmore and Marcus Langston, both in their mid 60’s, stood out even among the well-dressed crowd. Julian was tall and lean, his silver hair swept back, his dark eyes sharp with intelligence. Marcus, broader and more muscular, exuded a quiet strength, his warm smile softening the intensity of his presence. Their tailored suits hugged their frames, a testament to their wealth and impeccable taste.
Edward’s breath caught as recognition hit him. He hadn’t seen Julian or Marcus since 1977, when they’d graduated from Horton Watkins better known as Ladue High School together. Back then, they’d been part of the same social circle—Edward, the driven scholar; Julian, the charismatic artist; and Marcus, the athletic dreamer. They’d shared laughs, late-night drives along Litzinger Road, and dreams of escaping the confines of their suburban lives. But after graduation, their paths diverged. Edward stayed in St. Louis, building his financial empire, while Julian and Marcus moved to New York, their relationship blossoming into a lifelong partnership as art collectors and philanthropists. Rumors of their openness about their sexuality had reached Edward over the years, but he’d never reached out, his own life too consumed by work and convention.
Now, 40+ years later, here they were, standing in the heart of St. Louis, as vibrant and commanding as ever. Edward approached, his heart pounding with a mix of nostalgia and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name.
“Edward Harrington,” Julian said, his voice smooth as velvet, a smile spreading across his face. “It’s been far too long.”
Marcus’s eyes crinkled with warmth as he extended a hand. “You haven’t changed a bit, Ed. Still the sharpest guy in the room.”
Edward shook Marcus’s hand, the firm grip sending a jolt through him. “You two look like you’ve barely aged,” he said, his voice steady despite the flutter in his chest. “What brings you back to St. Louis?”
“A mix of business and pleasure,” Julian replied, his gaze lingering on Edward. “We’re here for the gala, but we’ve been thinking about our old stomping grounds. Ladue, Forest Park, those late nights at Ted Drewes. Remember those?”
Edward laughed, the memories flooding back. “How could I forget? We thought we owned the city back then.”
The conversation flowed effortlessly, as if the decades apart had been mere moments. They reminisced about high school antics—sneaking into the Muny, racing their cars down Highway 40, and dreaming of lives bigger than St. Louis could contain. But there was an undercurrent to their words, a subtle flirtation in Julian’s knowing smile and Marcus’s lingering glances. Edward felt it, a pull that made his pulse quicken.
As the evening wore on, Julian leaned closer, his voice low. “We’re hosting a small gathering at our place tomorrow night. Our home in Ladue—it’s been renovated, but it’s still got that old charm. You should come, Edward. It’d be like old times, only better.”
Marcus nodded, his hand brushing Edward’s arm. “We’d love to catch up properly. Just the three of us.”
Edward hesitated, his mind racing. He knew of Julian and Marcus’s reputation—not just as art collectors, but as a couple who lived openly and unapologetically. The invitation felt like more than a nostalgic reunion, and the thought sent a thrill through him. “I’ll make it work,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of anticipation.
As he walked away, he felt their eyes on him, and for the first time in years, he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to step across the line he’d drawn for himself so long ago.
---
The next day, Edward found himself exchanging messages with Julian and Marcus. It began with light banter about their high school days, but soon veered into more personal territory. Julian, ever the charmer, asked Edward about his life, his desires, his regrets. Marcus was more direct, his questions laced with a playful edge that made Edward’s cheeks flush. They were open about their own relationship, sharing stories of their adventures together, both emotional and physical. When Edward tentatively admitted his curiosity about exploring his sexuality—something he’d never voiced aloud—their responses were warm, encouraging, and unmistakably seductive.
“We always knew you were a man of depth, Ed,” Julian wrote. “There’s no shame in wanting to explore. Life’s too short to hold back.”
Marcus followed with a message that made Edward’s breath catch: “If you’re ready to take that step, we’d love to show you what you’ve been missing. No pressure, just us, like old times.”
Edward stared at his phone, his heart pounding. He thought of the videos he’d watched, the fantasies that had kept him awake at night. These men, who had known him when he was young and unformed, were offering him a chance to make those fantasies real—not just with their bodies, but with the trust of their shared history. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the screen, before typing a response: “I’m in. See you tomorrow.”
Their reply was immediate: “Our place, 7 p.m. We’ll take care of everything.”
---
The Whitmore-Langston residence was a stunning Ladue estate, a modern masterpiece built on the bones of a classic 1970s home. The sprawling property, nestled among ancient oaks, was a far cry from the modest house Julian’s family had owned during their high school years. Edward arrived promptly, his nerves a tangle of anticipation and apprehension. He’d chosen a navy suit, his cologne a subtle hint of cedar, a nod to the sophistication he shared with his old friends. When Marcus opened the door, his smile was warm and disarming.
“Ed, you look like you stepped out of a boardroom and into our dreams,” Marcus said, ushering him inside. Julian appeared moments later, a glass of Missouri Norton wine in hand, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Welcome back to Ladue,” Julian said, handing Edward the glass. “It’s been too long.”
The evening began with the kind of effortless elegance Edward was accustomed to—fine wine, a spread of local cheeses and charcuterie, and conversation that danced between nostalgia and flirtation. They laughed about their high school escapades—sneaking beers at Creve Coeur Lake, cruising down Spoede Road, and dreaming of lives beyond St. Louis. But as the night deepened, the mood shifted. Julian and Marcus were masters of seduction, their words and glances weaving a spell that made Edward feel both desired and safe.
Julian leaned closer, his voice low and intimate. “We’ve been thinking about you since last night, Ed. There was always something about you—something curious, something we wanted to explore.”
Marcus placed a hand on Edward’s knee, the touch light but deliberate. “We want you to feel free here, with us. No judgment, just possibility.”
Edward’s throat tightened, his body humming with a mix of fear and desire. He thought of the nights he’d spent alone, watching videos that mirrored the scene unfolding before him. These men, who had known him when he was just a boy, were offering him a chance to rewrite his story. He took a deep breath, his decision crystallizing. “I want to try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “With both of you.”
Julian’s smile was radiant, and Marcus’s hand tightened briefly on his knee, a silent promise. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” Julian said, standing and offering his hand.
---
They led Edward to a spacious bedroom on the second floor, its walls lined with soft lighting and a massive bed draped in crisp white linens. The windows overlooked the twinkling lights of Ladue, a reminder of the world they’d once shared. Edward’s heart raced as Julian and Marcus stood before him, their presence commanding yet gentle.
“Relax,” Marcus said, stepping closer. “We’ll take it slow.”
Julian moved behind Edward, his hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “Let us undress you,” he murmured, his breath warm against Edward’s ear. Edward nodded, his body trembling as Julian’s fingers unbuttoned his jacket, sliding it off with practiced ease. Marcus knelt before him, his hands working at Edward’s belt, his eyes locked on Edward’s with a mix of reassurance and desire.
As his clothes fell away, Edward felt exposed yet liberated, the ghosts of their shared past mingling with the heat of the present. Julian’s hands roamed his chest, tracing the lines of his body with a reverence that made Edward’s skin tingle. Marcus stood, his own shirt unbuttoned to reveal a broad, muscular chest dusted with silver hair. The sight sent a jolt of desire through Edward, his fantasies coming to life before him.
Julian guided Edward to the bed, his touch firm but gentle. “Lie back,” he said, and Edward complied, his body sinking into the soft mattress. Marcus joined them, his hands exploring Edward’s thighs, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure. Julian leaned down, his lips brushing Edward’s in a kiss that was both tender and hungry. Edward hesitated for a moment before responding, his lips parting to meet Julian’s, the sensation overwhelming in its intimacy.
Marcus’s hands moved higher, his fingers brushing against Edward’s hardening length. Edward gasped into Julian’s kiss, his body arching instinctively. “You’re stunning, Ed,” Marcus whispered, his voice thick with desire. He leaned down, his lips grazing Edward’s inner thigh, sending shivers through him. Edward’s mind spun, the reality of their touch surpassing every fantasy he’d ever had.
Julian pulled back, his eyes dark with intent. “We want to make this unforgettable for you,” he said, his hands sliding down Edward’s chest to join Marcus’s. Together, they explored him, their touches synchronized, their confidence a stark contrast to Edward’s nervous excitement. When Marcus’s lips closed around him, Edward moaned, the sensation intense and unfamiliar. Julian kissed him again, swallowing his sounds, their tongues dancing in a rhythm that felt both new and rooted in their shared history.
Marcus positioned himself between Edward’s legs, his touch careful but deliberate. Edward felt the press of something warm and slick, and his body tensed with anticipation. Marcus’s voice was soothing, his hands steady. “Relax, Ed. Let us take you back to where we began, but somewhere new.”
The first sensation of Marcus entering him was a shock—a stretch, a fullness that bordered on discomfort but quickly gave way to pleasure. Edward moaned around Julian, his body adjusting to the dual sensations. Marcus moved slowly, each thrust measured, his hands gripping Edward’s hips with a tenderness that belied his strength. Julian’s movements mirrored Marcus’s, their rhythm building a crescendo of pleasure that consumed Edward entirely.
The world narrowed to the heat of their bodies, the sounds of their breaths, and the overwhelming sensation of being filled in every way. Edward’s moans grew louder, his body trembling as waves of pleasure built within him. Julian’s hands tightened in his hair, his own moans signaling his approaching climax. Marcus’s thrusts deepened, his grip firm but loving, and Edward felt himself teetering on the edge of something monumental.
When Julian’s release came, it was sudden and intense, flooding Edward’s senses with heat and salt. Edward struggled to keep up, his own pleasure spiking as Marcus’s movements grew more urgent. The sensation of being taken by both men, of surrendering to their desire, pushed Edward over the edge. His orgasm hit like a tidal wave, a white-hot explosion that left him gasping, his body shaking with the force of it. For a moment, the world went dark, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity.
When he came back to himself, Marcus and Julian were still there, their bodies pressed against his, their hands soothing him through the aftershocks. Julian kissed his forehead, his voice soft. “You were incredible, Ed.”
Marcus chuckled, his hand resting on Edward’s thigh. “Had enough, or are you already thinking about what’s next?”
Edward’s breath was still ragged, his body aching in a way that was both foreign and exhilarating. He didn’t answer right away, his mind grappling with the enormity of what he’d just experienced. Part of him wanted to retreat, to process the shift in his identity, but another part—the part that had spent years yearning for this—wanted more.
He sat up, his body still tingling, and reached for his clothes. “I need… some time,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady. Julian and Marcus nodded, their expressions understanding, no trace of judgment in their eyes.
“Take all the time you need,” Marcus said, standing to help Edward dress. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Julian handed Edward his jacket, his smile warm. “You know where to find us, Ed. This was just the beginning.”
---
As Edward drove back to his Clayton penthouse, the streets of St. Louis glowing under the streetlights, his body sore but alive, he couldn’t help but smile. The night had been a revelation, a bridge between the boy he’d been in the 1970s and the man he was becoming. Julian and Marcus, his old friends, had given him more than pleasure—they’d given him permission to explore a part of himself he’d kept hidden for too long.
In the days that followed, Edward found himself replaying the night, each memory a spark that reignited his desire. He knew he’d return to Julian and Marcus, not just for the pleasure, but for the connection they’d rekindled—a bond forged in the halls of Ladue High School, now transformed into something deeper, something new.
As he looked out over the Arch from his penthouse window, Edward felt a sense of freedom he’d never known. St. Louis, the city that had shaped him, was now the backdrop for a new chapter—one he was ready to write.
Raised in the conservative St. Louis suburbs of the 1960s, Edward had been taught that men like him—straight, stoic, and successful—did not entertain thoughts of other men. Yet, for years, a secret curiosity had simmered beneath his polished exterior. Late at night, in the privacy of his Clayton penthouse, he found himself drawn to online videos that stirred something primal within him. The sight of strong, confident men—naked, unashamed, and consumed by desire—ignited a longing he could no longer suppress. He was particularly captivated by the idea of surrender, of being taken by a dominant man, of feeling the weight and heat of a long, thick, circumcised cock filling him completely. The thought sent shivers through him, a mix of shame and exhilaration that grew stronger with each passing year.
Edward’s desires had taken shape over time. He developed a preference for specific sizes and shapes—rigid, substantial shafts that promised both pleasure and power. The yearning had become an ache, a need he could no longer ignore. Yet, he had never acted on it, bound by the expectations of his upbringing and the life he’d built. That is, until tonight.
The gala was a fundraiser for the St. Louis Art Museum, a glittering affair attended by the city’s wealthiest and most influential. Edward moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his smile polite as he exchanged pleasantries with familiar faces. But his attention was drawn to two men across the room, their presence magnetic, their laughter carrying over the hum of conversation. Julian Whitmore and Marcus Langston, both in their mid 60’s, stood out even among the well-dressed crowd. Julian was tall and lean, his silver hair swept back, his dark eyes sharp with intelligence. Marcus, broader and more muscular, exuded a quiet strength, his warm smile softening the intensity of his presence. Their tailored suits hugged their frames, a testament to their wealth and impeccable taste.
Edward’s breath caught as recognition hit him. He hadn’t seen Julian or Marcus since 1977, when they’d graduated from Horton Watkins better known as Ladue High School together. Back then, they’d been part of the same social circle—Edward, the driven scholar; Julian, the charismatic artist; and Marcus, the athletic dreamer. They’d shared laughs, late-night drives along Litzinger Road, and dreams of escaping the confines of their suburban lives. But after graduation, their paths diverged. Edward stayed in St. Louis, building his financial empire, while Julian and Marcus moved to New York, their relationship blossoming into a lifelong partnership as art collectors and philanthropists. Rumors of their openness about their sexuality had reached Edward over the years, but he’d never reached out, his own life too consumed by work and convention.
Now, 40+ years later, here they were, standing in the heart of St. Louis, as vibrant and commanding as ever. Edward approached, his heart pounding with a mix of nostalgia and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name.
“Edward Harrington,” Julian said, his voice smooth as velvet, a smile spreading across his face. “It’s been far too long.”
Marcus’s eyes crinkled with warmth as he extended a hand. “You haven’t changed a bit, Ed. Still the sharpest guy in the room.”
Edward shook Marcus’s hand, the firm grip sending a jolt through him. “You two look like you’ve barely aged,” he said, his voice steady despite the flutter in his chest. “What brings you back to St. Louis?”
“A mix of business and pleasure,” Julian replied, his gaze lingering on Edward. “We’re here for the gala, but we’ve been thinking about our old stomping grounds. Ladue, Forest Park, those late nights at Ted Drewes. Remember those?”
Edward laughed, the memories flooding back. “How could I forget? We thought we owned the city back then.”
The conversation flowed effortlessly, as if the decades apart had been mere moments. They reminisced about high school antics—sneaking into the Muny, racing their cars down Highway 40, and dreaming of lives bigger than St. Louis could contain. But there was an undercurrent to their words, a subtle flirtation in Julian’s knowing smile and Marcus’s lingering glances. Edward felt it, a pull that made his pulse quicken.
As the evening wore on, Julian leaned closer, his voice low. “We’re hosting a small gathering at our place tomorrow night. Our home in Ladue—it’s been renovated, but it’s still got that old charm. You should come, Edward. It’d be like old times, only better.”
Marcus nodded, his hand brushing Edward’s arm. “We’d love to catch up properly. Just the three of us.”
Edward hesitated, his mind racing. He knew of Julian and Marcus’s reputation—not just as art collectors, but as a couple who lived openly and unapologetically. The invitation felt like more than a nostalgic reunion, and the thought sent a thrill through him. “I’ll make it work,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of anticipation.
As he walked away, he felt their eyes on him, and for the first time in years, he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to step across the line he’d drawn for himself so long ago.
---
The next day, Edward found himself exchanging messages with Julian and Marcus. It began with light banter about their high school days, but soon veered into more personal territory. Julian, ever the charmer, asked Edward about his life, his desires, his regrets. Marcus was more direct, his questions laced with a playful edge that made Edward’s cheeks flush. They were open about their own relationship, sharing stories of their adventures together, both emotional and physical. When Edward tentatively admitted his curiosity about exploring his sexuality—something he’d never voiced aloud—their responses were warm, encouraging, and unmistakably seductive.
“We always knew you were a man of depth, Ed,” Julian wrote. “There’s no shame in wanting to explore. Life’s too short to hold back.”
Marcus followed with a message that made Edward’s breath catch: “If you’re ready to take that step, we’d love to show you what you’ve been missing. No pressure, just us, like old times.”
Edward stared at his phone, his heart pounding. He thought of the videos he’d watched, the fantasies that had kept him awake at night. These men, who had known him when he was young and unformed, were offering him a chance to make those fantasies real—not just with their bodies, but with the trust of their shared history. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the screen, before typing a response: “I’m in. See you tomorrow.”
Their reply was immediate: “Our place, 7 p.m. We’ll take care of everything.”
---
The Whitmore-Langston residence was a stunning Ladue estate, a modern masterpiece built on the bones of a classic 1970s home. The sprawling property, nestled among ancient oaks, was a far cry from the modest house Julian’s family had owned during their high school years. Edward arrived promptly, his nerves a tangle of anticipation and apprehension. He’d chosen a navy suit, his cologne a subtle hint of cedar, a nod to the sophistication he shared with his old friends. When Marcus opened the door, his smile was warm and disarming.
“Ed, you look like you stepped out of a boardroom and into our dreams,” Marcus said, ushering him inside. Julian appeared moments later, a glass of Missouri Norton wine in hand, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Welcome back to Ladue,” Julian said, handing Edward the glass. “It’s been too long.”
The evening began with the kind of effortless elegance Edward was accustomed to—fine wine, a spread of local cheeses and charcuterie, and conversation that danced between nostalgia and flirtation. They laughed about their high school escapades—sneaking beers at Creve Coeur Lake, cruising down Spoede Road, and dreaming of lives beyond St. Louis. But as the night deepened, the mood shifted. Julian and Marcus were masters of seduction, their words and glances weaving a spell that made Edward feel both desired and safe.
Julian leaned closer, his voice low and intimate. “We’ve been thinking about you since last night, Ed. There was always something about you—something curious, something we wanted to explore.”
Marcus placed a hand on Edward’s knee, the touch light but deliberate. “We want you to feel free here, with us. No judgment, just possibility.”
Edward’s throat tightened, his body humming with a mix of fear and desire. He thought of the nights he’d spent alone, watching videos that mirrored the scene unfolding before him. These men, who had known him when he was just a boy, were offering him a chance to rewrite his story. He took a deep breath, his decision crystallizing. “I want to try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “With both of you.”
Julian’s smile was radiant, and Marcus’s hand tightened briefly on his knee, a silent promise. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” Julian said, standing and offering his hand.
---
They led Edward to a spacious bedroom on the second floor, its walls lined with soft lighting and a massive bed draped in crisp white linens. The windows overlooked the twinkling lights of Ladue, a reminder of the world they’d once shared. Edward’s heart raced as Julian and Marcus stood before him, their presence commanding yet gentle.
“Relax,” Marcus said, stepping closer. “We’ll take it slow.”
Julian moved behind Edward, his hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “Let us undress you,” he murmured, his breath warm against Edward’s ear. Edward nodded, his body trembling as Julian’s fingers unbuttoned his jacket, sliding it off with practiced ease. Marcus knelt before him, his hands working at Edward’s belt, his eyes locked on Edward’s with a mix of reassurance and desire.
As his clothes fell away, Edward felt exposed yet liberated, the ghosts of their shared past mingling with the heat of the present. Julian’s hands roamed his chest, tracing the lines of his body with a reverence that made Edward’s skin tingle. Marcus stood, his own shirt unbuttoned to reveal a broad, muscular chest dusted with silver hair. The sight sent a jolt of desire through Edward, his fantasies coming to life before him.
Julian guided Edward to the bed, his touch firm but gentle. “Lie back,” he said, and Edward complied, his body sinking into the soft mattress. Marcus joined them, his hands exploring Edward’s thighs, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure. Julian leaned down, his lips brushing Edward’s in a kiss that was both tender and hungry. Edward hesitated for a moment before responding, his lips parting to meet Julian’s, the sensation overwhelming in its intimacy.
Marcus’s hands moved higher, his fingers brushing against Edward’s hardening length. Edward gasped into Julian’s kiss, his body arching instinctively. “You’re stunning, Ed,” Marcus whispered, his voice thick with desire. He leaned down, his lips grazing Edward’s inner thigh, sending shivers through him. Edward’s mind spun, the reality of their touch surpassing every fantasy he’d ever had.
Julian pulled back, his eyes dark with intent. “We want to make this unforgettable for you,” he said, his hands sliding down Edward’s chest to join Marcus’s. Together, they explored him, their touches synchronized, their confidence a stark contrast to Edward’s nervous excitement. When Marcus’s lips closed around him, Edward moaned, the sensation intense and unfamiliar. Julian kissed him again, swallowing his sounds, their tongues dancing in a rhythm that felt both new and rooted in their shared history.
Marcus positioned himself between Edward’s legs, his touch careful but deliberate. Edward felt the press of something warm and slick, and his body tensed with anticipation. Marcus’s voice was soothing, his hands steady. “Relax, Ed. Let us take you back to where we began, but somewhere new.”
The first sensation of Marcus entering him was a shock—a stretch, a fullness that bordered on discomfort but quickly gave way to pleasure. Edward moaned around Julian, his body adjusting to the dual sensations. Marcus moved slowly, each thrust measured, his hands gripping Edward’s hips with a tenderness that belied his strength. Julian’s movements mirrored Marcus’s, their rhythm building a crescendo of pleasure that consumed Edward entirely.
The world narrowed to the heat of their bodies, the sounds of their breaths, and the overwhelming sensation of being filled in every way. Edward’s moans grew louder, his body trembling as waves of pleasure built within him. Julian’s hands tightened in his hair, his own moans signaling his approaching climax. Marcus’s thrusts deepened, his grip firm but loving, and Edward felt himself teetering on the edge of something monumental.
When Julian’s release came, it was sudden and intense, flooding Edward’s senses with heat and salt. Edward struggled to keep up, his own pleasure spiking as Marcus’s movements grew more urgent. The sensation of being taken by both men, of surrendering to their desire, pushed Edward over the edge. His orgasm hit like a tidal wave, a white-hot explosion that left him gasping, his body shaking with the force of it. For a moment, the world went dark, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity.
When he came back to himself, Marcus and Julian were still there, their bodies pressed against his, their hands soothing him through the aftershocks. Julian kissed his forehead, his voice soft. “You were incredible, Ed.”
Marcus chuckled, his hand resting on Edward’s thigh. “Had enough, or are you already thinking about what’s next?”
Edward’s breath was still ragged, his body aching in a way that was both foreign and exhilarating. He didn’t answer right away, his mind grappling with the enormity of what he’d just experienced. Part of him wanted to retreat, to process the shift in his identity, but another part—the part that had spent years yearning for this—wanted more.
He sat up, his body still tingling, and reached for his clothes. “I need… some time,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady. Julian and Marcus nodded, their expressions understanding, no trace of judgment in their eyes.
“Take all the time you need,” Marcus said, standing to help Edward dress. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Julian handed Edward his jacket, his smile warm. “You know where to find us, Ed. This was just the beginning.”
---
As Edward drove back to his Clayton penthouse, the streets of St. Louis glowing under the streetlights, his body sore but alive, he couldn’t help but smile. The night had been a revelation, a bridge between the boy he’d been in the 1970s and the man he was becoming. Julian and Marcus, his old friends, had given him more than pleasure—they’d given him permission to explore a part of himself he’d kept hidden for too long.
In the days that followed, Edward found himself replaying the night, each memory a spark that reignited his desire. He knew he’d return to Julian and Marcus, not just for the pleasure, but for the connection they’d rekindled—a bond forged in the halls of Ladue High School, now transformed into something deeper, something new.
As he looked out over the Arch from his penthouse window, Edward felt a sense of freedom he’d never known. St. Louis, the city that had shaped him, was now the backdrop for a new chapter—one he was ready to write.
