"Uh, Trusie, better lose your bible," Daphne commented as they approached her favorite watering hole. Luckily, it was early in the evening, or even more of the denizens of Liberty Avenue would have been staring in shock at the primly dressed Mormon walking down their street, trying to shield himself behind the much smaller, auburn-haired girl. Some of them would have mocked the uptight straight boy for invading their territory if he hadn't been accompanied by the neighborhood's favorite fag hag, who called out greetings as she strolled along.

Mouth agape, Truesen took in the sights, sounds, and smells of the gayborhood. He couldn't even bring himself to mutter that the book he was carrying wasn't a bible. His hands were so slick with nervous sweat that he was about to drop the not-bible anyhow. He wasn't quite sure why he'd allowed the whirlwind that was Daphne to pull him along. Maybe it was like Daphne had said as they'd ambled down the street, "You need to rip off the bandage that's hiding who you are, True Sin. You'll never be happy if you don't."

"But what if I lose my family? My friends?" Truesen had semi-wailed in anxiety. "They're all true believers. They believe - as I did until the start of my missionary service - that one has to remain chaste outside of marriage, and that marriage is just between a man and a woman." It was only when he'd been exposed to more people, however briefly, as a missionary that niggling doubts started to arise. Doubts that coalesced when he'd met Daphne.

The petite brunette had halted and turned to Truesen, placing her hands on his shoulders. "If they really love you, True, they'll accept you. It may take them a while, but love will eventually win them over." The young lass had continued, "It won't be easy. There'll probably be many times that you'll wish you were straight, when you'll want to crawl back into the closet. Remember, though, even if you do lose some of your family and friends, you're going to make new friends. Ones who will understand you, accept you for who you are, and support you in becoming the best homosexual you can be."

Just holding hands with another man had been a foreign concept to the young Mormon, but as he walked down Pittsburgh's gay avenue, the men he saw were doing a lot more than that. The raven-haired boy had to tear his eyes away when he saw a muscular, tallish man dressed in a leather harness and not much else slip his hand into the back of his companion's fuchsia shorts, apparently rubbing his fingers along the fag's crack. The drawn-out moans that Purple Shorts emitted indicated he was very appreciative of Leather Harness' fondling. A drop of drool combined with perspiration trailed from the corner of Truesen's mouth, down his chin, and then splattered onto his shirt as he took in the cute, curly-haired, shirtless blond leaning against the wall outside their apparent destination.

"Hey, Todd. How's it going?" Daphne asked as she opened the door to Woody's. 

"Not so fine," answered the rather dejected-looking young man. "Would'ya tell Brian he needs to reopen Babylon pronto? There's just no place like home."

Daphne nodded to indicate she'd pass on Todd's message. Although the young woman was privy to the discussions between Brian and Justin on that topic, she wasn't about to divulge their decision until they were ready to make it public. She definitely agreed with Todd that Popperz was a tawdry substitute for Babylon. Tricking at Babylon had become as much second nature to her as it was for her studly duo. Some of the bartenders and deejays were straight or at least bi. Daphne had enjoyed quite a few rousing romps with those boys. Heck, one or two of them had even justified a repeat.

As she entered the most popular bar in all of gay Pittsburgh, Daphne scanned the main room for her men, concentrating on the bar and the pool tables. That's when she realized True was no longer at her back. What the fuck! Scowling, Daphne jerked the door back open. When she saw her Mormon frozen in place, salivating over Todd, her expression softened. "C'mon in, Trusie. Todd's a consummate bottom; he's not gonna be able to initiate you into the joys of your prostate." True didn't move, apparently not hearing his guide, so Daphne reached out and pinched him firmly on his right butt cheek.

Truesen jumped straight up into the air, landed awkwardly, and glared at Daphne. "Why'd you do that?" He peered around anxiously as if expecting his brother Mormon to appear and condemn him to everlasting darkness.

"True, I repeat, that boy is a bottom. He can't introduce you to the joys of gay sex. What you need is a considerate, experienced top, who knows what he's doing." Daphne yanked on Truesen's arm, pulling him through the doorway even though his gaze still lingered on the handsome blond bottom. True tripped over the doorsill and almost did a face plant onto Woody's floor, windmilling wildly with his arms to avoid falling. He flushed a bright crimson at the ribald catcalls and mirth which greeted his klutzy entrance to the bar.

"Who's the loser, Daphne?" called a bear clad in leather chaps, which he'd donned over a jock strap.

"Pretty boy, c'mere and I'll let you suck my groin ferret!" a dark-haired man who looked vaguely familiar to the young lass shouted. Oh. My. God. It was the butt-ugly Zucchini Man! Daphne hadn't caught sight of him since the fiasco at the loft a few years earlier. She sighed. What had Brian been thinking to fuck someone so beneath his usual standards? Oh, yeah, right. Fugly took advantage of Brian's ‘relationship' phobia, and the brunet stud had - as was to be expected - retaliated against Justin. 

Daphne's gloom lightened, however, as she thought about the ‘new and improved Kinney,' the one she should see any moment. When True Sin clutched her hand more tightly, she glanced over to see him quaking in fear. What was he so scared of?

"Here, boy. Here, boy." chanted a trio in unison, sending kissy noises to attract Truesen's attention. "We'll teach you how to walk on three legs, boy!"

Mormon Boy's face was now a blotchy puce. Daphne shook her head in disbelief. That trio's teasing was a bit unkind, but it was still fairly harmless hazing. Truesen should have just shrugged it off. How the hell was she going to convince Justin and Brian to help this hopeless homo if he couldn't fend for himself at all?

Daphne finally espied her fags sucking face at the pool table nearest the back wall. Eww! Daphne almost dropped True's hand immediately after grabbing it to tow him toward her buddies. Cold, clammy sweat now covered her palm too. Yuck!

Truesen lagged behind the mahogany-haired whirlwind, his dazed expression conveying a combination of shocked horror and rapt fascination as he watched a slender, young blond all but climb a tall, svelte brunet in an effort to get even closer to the older man he was avidly kissing. So entranced that he forgot to watch where he was going, Truesen stumbled into Daphne when she stopped next to her boys, in no hurry to call a halt to Justin's tree-climbing expedition. The Mormon's stumble knocked Daphne into Justin which, in a domino effect, pushed Justin forcefully against Brian. The brunet tipped over onto the pool table, landing on his back on the green felt, pulling Justin, who was adhered to Brian's body like a limpet, down on top of himself. Horizontal surface? Check. Signal to continue their frotting? Check. The dynamic duo became even more amatory, never pausing in their explorations of one another's bodies. Brian palmed one of the blond's lush globes in his right hand, pushing the younger man's T-shirt upward so that he could tug the reinserted nipple ring with his left hand. Of course, the blond had always been on to him about the nipple ring, especially since Brian - who'd professed indifference - had focused an awful lot of attention on it.

"Fuck, Stud. Gotta get these jeans off," Justin demanded, "because I need you inside me NOW."

In response, Brian wriggled about underneath Justin, trying to shove his jeans and the blond's cargo pants down simultaneously. Neither of the men noticed Daphne, her straight-laced sidekick, or any of the avid admirers now surrounding the pool table. The commentary and the placing of bets flew fast and furious among the horde of horny men.

"Shiiit," one of them drawled. "I wanna change my bet to five minutes. No way they're gonna last any longer than that."

"Hah! Three minutes max!"

"Lookit those hips piston!"

"Goddammit, I just came in my pants. Couldn't hold out any longer."

"Boys!" No response. "Brian! Baby! Please! As much as I wanna keep watching, you can't do this here. The management will kick you out. You know there's no other decent gay watering hole in the Pitts." Out of desperation, Emmett grabbed a pool cue and poked Brian in the side with the chalked tip.

A loud popping resounded from the table as the suction was released and the two-headed beast resolved into two gasping, panting men. "What the fuck, Honeycutt!" Brian growled menacingly, after tearing his lips away from the blond's. 

The blond rasped out, "Em, ya know you're welcome to watch. You've added your hallelujahs to the backroom chorus plenty of times."

"Baby, there's no one I'd rather watch than you and the Big Bad. But..." the flamboyant queen tailed off, reaching down to adjust his dick, which was pressing painfully against his fly. What had he been thinking when he'd selected these psychedelic orange, blue, and purple pleather pants for tonight's outing? The legwear had been too tight before he gained the two pounds he'd been struggling to lose for the past month. There really was such a thing as being too conscious of maintaining one's status as the most fashionably dressed queen in town. He'd remember that next time. Too late now - he had to rescue his friends, particularly his Baby, from imminent eviction from Woody's.

While Emmett had been attempting to ease the uncomfortable constriction of his protruding pecker, the lascivious onlookers were booing and shouting for him to bugger off. The flamboyant queen resolutely grasped the pool stick, preparing to prod his friends, who'd again merged into a humping beast with four legs and four arms.

"C'mon, man, I've got a tenner riding on this fuck," a rambunctious redhead complained.

"You clueless cluck," Emmett exploded; "didn't you hear me say that our two studs are about to be banned from Woody's? Some dickwad lodged a written complaint through the PPD about public sex in the main rooms of bars on Liberty Avenue. Since this is the most popular bar in the neighborhood, it's clear that Woody's is being targeted." Emmett flung his arms out dramatically and shouted at the crowd, "Do we want to give the mayor grounds to appoint another homo-hater like Stockwell as chief of the PPD?"

"Hell, no!" the spectators caroled in unison.

"Then let's help our boys before their cocks are banned from Woody's!" With Emmett directing the proceedings, five of the looky-loos pried Justin off of Brian. One particularly brave voyeur reached over and buttoned up the brunet's jeans while four other men sat on the brunet stud's arms and legs.

"Honeycutt!" bellowed the beleaguered brunet, "I'm gonna plant my boot so far up your ass that you won't be bottoming for the rest of your life because, no matter how big the dick, it'll just fall right through." Brian thrashed about on the green baize, attempting to free himself so he could deliver the threatened ass-kicking.

"Don't call me Honeycutt!" was Em's automatic response, practiced thousands of times through years of friendship. Em was well aware that the brunet only needled him because he got a rise out of the queen every time; he couldn't cheat the brunet out of his fun by not rebutting as expected. "Listen, Bri," the flamboyant man condescendingly continued - intentionally using the nickname that the stud normally didn't allow anyone except Justin to utter, "I know that you're happy enough - in lieu of Woody's - to frequent Mahoney's Irish Pub, which is just a hop, skip, and a jump from your loft. The heteros there, however, simply can't comprehend a brightly burning flame like mine. Plus, those so-called straight men don't want to take a walk on the wild side with me as often as they do with you." Emmett continued his digression, pouting over the unfairness of it, "You'd think that all those lusty Irish lads would be like Drewsie - certain they're not gay as long as they're not bottoming, but nooo. They simply drop trou and bend over for you rather than accepting my invitation."

Brian and Justin, straining against their captors' holds, had succeeded in stretching out their necks just far enough that they could seal their lips together again. They disregarded the patter from their self-appointed rescuer, so intent on finishing what they'd just begun that they didn't hear him. 

A piercing whistle halted all activity, freezing almost everyone in place and causing the studs to spring backwards, breaking their lip-lock. Justin clouted one of his jailers on the chin, and Brian came down hard on the foot of one of his guards. Colorful complaints filled the air. When Brian tilted his head backward, he caught Daphne with her thumb and forefinger in her mouth, about to emit another horrendously high-pitched blast. 

Before Brian could express his outrage, his bodacious blond partner admiringly exclaimed, "Goddamn, Daph!" momentarily ceasing his struggles to free himself from his human restraints, "When did you learn to pipe out a whistle like that?"

"If you two knuckleheads would just listen to Auntie Em, you'd know he had good cause for interrupting your playtime," their ballsy fag hag admonished. 

"And the point is?" Brian interjected sarcastically. "You do have a point, right, Honeycutt?"

Emmett ignored the brunet's rude question, nodding regally at Daphne in acknowledgement of her assistance. Now that the two studs and their audience were actually listening to him, he related the latest tale of potential conflict between the PPD and Pittsburgh's fabulous fags. Whether or not a written complaint really had been filed, everyone on Liberty Avenue needed to take the threat seriously.

"You may have a point," Brian reluctantly conceded.

Justin nodded in agreement, a shudder rippling down his body, "No more Stockwells."

Emmett looked at them in silence for a long moment before saying to their captors, "I think it's safe to release them now."

The guards looked a bit reluctant but let go of both the brunet and the blond. Although the two gravitated toward one another and exchanged a protracted kiss, they were otherwise quite decorous. They glanced at one another, silently conferring, before Justin tugged on Brian's hands, turning both of them toward the door.

Daphne, who suspected her friends were about to charge off to confer with Carl, intervened, "Boys, I need your help with a project. I have an, uh..." the young woman paused, unsure how to describe her Mormon tagalong, before continuing ...acquaintance who's just come out of the closet."

Daphne attempted to shift to the side, so that Truesen, who'd been cowering behind her during the pool table debacle, could step forth and be introduced. Not at all ready to confront two such flagrantly out and proud fags, the young Mormon sidestepped with Daphne, trying with marginal success to shelter himself behind her slender form.

"Eww! It's a... a... What is that, exactly?" asked the not-yet-pacified redheaded heckler as he stared in disgust at the Mormon invader.

"He's a queer, just like you, pea-brain!" Daphne defended her fledgling fag friend. Turning to her best buds, she implored, "True Sin just needs you two to show him how to be the best homosexual he can be."

The brunet stud drawled, "You do know the concept of me and Justin starting a school to teach the joys of gay sex to underprivileged gay youth was a joke, right, Daphne? Fuck, all the gang were high as kites when Justin suggested that and I seconded the motion."

"But, honey, you'd be such a good professor," Emmett chimed in. "Carnal Arts 101. I'm sure I could sign up Fetch Dixon as a guest lecturer."

Brian ignored Em's interjection, "And virgins? Look what happened the last time I picked up and fucked a virgin. Never got rid of him!"

"The luckiest you've ever been, Stud," Justin asserted, lasciviously licking his lips while raking a stare down Brian's body, stopping at the bulge of the big guy's crotch. When the brunet didn't contradict his statement, Justin knew that was just as much a confession of love as the three words Brian rarely uttered.

"Hands off, Honeycutt!" bellowed Brian when the tall queen sauntered over to his blond boy, presumably to whisper some advice about the fundamentals of fledgling fag instruction, pressed a kiss against Justin's temple, and then slid a hand down the blond's back toward that luscious derriere.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Stud," the quintessential queen riposted, winking at Justin as he removed his hand and turned away. Really, it was far too easy to arouse the brunet's possessive, caveman instincts. Emmett wouldn't have been surprised if Brian started beating on his chest with both fists while grunting, ‘Mine. All mine. No touch.'

While the three friends bantered with each other, Truesen began shaking more and more violently. Surely the young lady - the first person he'd come out to - didn't expect him to give up his virginity to these two amoral, albeit delectably delicious, men? As a good Mormon boy, he'd been expected to refrain from sexual relations outside the marriage bed. "I- I- I can't d- do this," he stuttered, attempting to back away but prevented from doing so by the crowd surrounding the pool table.

"Can't do what, True Sin?" Justin walked up to the virginal Mormon and gave him a once over. On the short side, maybe 5'6" - that was rather appealing to the blond, who topped out at 5'8", although he usually stretched that by an inch whenever anyone wanted to know his height. Kinda scrawny looking. Prim, proper, and uptight - looked like he was headed to a prayer meeting. Boring, baggy, white and black clothes. Unstyled, flat hair. Hmm, the sparkling blue eyes were nice. Probably not enough to work with, though. Justin had his doubts that even JT and Rage - his and Brian's alter egos - could have done much to help this pathetic, terrified boy.

"How'd you get a moniker like True Sin, anyhow?" Justin inquired, biting down on his bottom lip in an effort to stifle his laughter - no need to make the boy cringe even more. "How, exactly, is a ‘true sin' different from a ‘false sin'? Does providing an example of a True Sinner help you convert nonbelievers?"

"It's Truesen, NOT True Sin!" the indignant young man vehemently protested, speaking up in spite of his overt fear. "And a sin's is a sin, regardless," he spluttered, red-faced.

"Sounds the same to me, Mormie Boy," proclaimed Brian, sauntering over to True Sin and Justin. "But I gotta admit, if you want to be truly sinful, Daphne's brought you to the two most accomplished sinners in Pennsylvania."

"Ooh! He must be feeling unusually modest today. He usually claims the eastern half of the continent as his domain," warbled an observer who was concealed by the horny horde of fags.

Brian's assessment of True Sin matched Justin's - dull, dull, dull. He wouldn't commit to taking this one on without at least a little something to make it worthwhile. "We need to see you without the frumpy attire, boy. Lose the boring shirt, Sinful, so my partner and I can decide whether it'd be worth the bother to take you home," Brian demanded.

When Truesen didn't move, Justin murmured, "Here. Let me, Sinner." He reached out and quickly started unbuttoning the boring, wilted, wrinkled, white dress shirt. Then the blond slipped the shirt collar underneath the tie, choosing to leave that item around the Mormon's neck. Finally, he unbuttoned the cuffs and allowed the shirt to drop off the boy's arms and pool on the floor.

"Christ. You're even wearing a baggy, white, crew-neck T-shirt," Brian noted, backing away a bit, apparently ready to give up from disinterest before the trembling boy's torso had been fully exposed.

"Hold on, Bri," the youthful blond requested. "I think our Sinner may have been disguising a tempting torso beneath his white-on-white ensemble." Justin quickly pulled the sweat-stained white tee over Sin's head, indeed revealing some rather pleasing muscles. The blond discarded the tee on top of the white dress shirt, leaving the tie around Mormie Boy's neck.

A flicker of interest lit the brunet's hazel eyes. He moved forward once more, standing next to Justin and stroking a hand across True Sin's stomach through the T-shirt material, one hand gliding upward to one of the boy's nipples while the other hand reached around to repetitively squeeze and release a flat ass cheek. Ah, well, the stud reflected, not every fag was blessed with a bubble butt like his partner's. And as long as he got his minimum daily ration of rimming, biting, fondling, and fucking with that pleasingly plump posterior, Brian supposed he could accommodate a small defect or two in his tricks.

Justin mirrored Brian's actions on their Sinner's other side. The Mormon boy was panting heavily, as if he'd run a marathon. Blond and brunet heads inclined toward one another, and they simultaneously pinched the Mormie's tender flesh while exchanging a lingering kiss. The tyro quivered mightily, screamed out "Aaahahaaah!" and slumped forward against the studly duo, breaking the lip-lock which had only just begun.

"What the fuck?!" Brian roared in disbelief. "Now that's a sin, Mormon Boy. Never butt in when we're swapping spit!"

"Uh, Brian," muttered the blond - who'd stepped back a pace while still supporting True Sin with an arm around his back - urging his lover to step back, too.

The older man irritably shrugged off the warning until he followed Justin's sardonic glance to his hip, against which True Sin's groin rested. "For fuck's sake!" the brunet bellowed, "tell me you didn't come in your pants and then rub your mess all over me!"

Titters and guffaws could be heard from the crowd of men, some of whom had come in their own trousers, but none of whom would ever admit to that if they hoped to garner either stud's interest for even fifteen minutes, much less a nightlong fuck-a-thon. "You'd think the man had never encountered a drop of come, wouldn't you, mate?" rasped a voice in an Aussie accent. Shushing noises quickly quieted the too-verbose man from Down Under. Everyone fervently agreed with the Ozzie, but they knew better than to point out the inconsistencies in the stud's behavior.

A spate of giggles caught the glowering brunet's attention. Brian looked over at his blond brat, who - employing the brunet's own trademark, tongue-in-cheek smirk - gasped out, giggling, "C'mon, Brian. It's fuckin' hilarious the way you act like you're gonna have to burn those Diesel jeans just because a bit of come may have seeped through multiple layers of fabric onto your hip."

Brian sarcastically retorted, "How could I have suspected that this scared wittle rabbit would cream himself because of a brief squeeze and pinch. For fuck's sake, Justin, you'd never touched another man at seventeen, but you lasted through the sight of my godlike body, fevered kisses, and a fifteen-minute handjob before you ejaculated all over my new duvet."

"Aw, you say the sweetest things, Brian," cooed Emmett. "You need to consider that Baby had probably been jerking himself off regularly from the time he was twelve years old, whereas Truesie here is just becoming acquainted with his dick. I've been having a chinwag with Miss Daphne, and we figure the boy has probably never even touched his dick except to tuck it into his underwear or hold it when he took a leak."

"Isn't that right, my Sweet Sinner?" Emmett asked the mortified Mormon sympathetically.

True Sin, his face now a virulent beet red, looked like he wanted to crawl under the pool table to get away from the pitying looks now being bestowed on him. His mouth opened and closed again and again, but no words emerged.

"I know he's nowhere near the top of our list for tonight's tantalizing trick, Brian, but we've got to give the poor sod a hand," Justin implored. "Think of it as Christian charity."

The brunet rolled his eyes but acquiesced with a shrug. "Whateverthefuck. Mormie Boy, Sunshine wants to school you about gay sex. You want to come with us and be a disciple in the Church of Brian and Justin for one night?"

Truesen simply stood there and gaped mutely.

"Well?" Brian demanded three minutes later when the petrified boy still hadn't so much as blinked. The impatient man had waited that long only because he'd been busy groping his blond's ass. He'd ignored the pleas from Woody's other patrons to choose them instead of the clueless freshman fag. He would actually have preferred to have Sunshine to himself for the night since no one else came close to matching the boy's prowess and stamina. Brian was willing, though, to accommodate Justin's desire to introduce the neophyte to the joys of gay sex. It might even be entertaining to see how the blond handled a virgin. The brunet was positive, however, that there was no way Justin could surpass his own inauguration five years earlier.

"Take me."

"No, me."

"It's my turn. You got to suck off Blondie the other day in the park. I haven't even had a dance with either man."

"Oh, fuck off. I saw you grinding against Kinney last night at Popperz."

The lusty fags began to push and shove at one another while insults and efforts at one-upmanship flew fast and furious. Thankfully, another ear-splitting whistle froze everyone in place before the self-selection process to accompany Justin and Brian turned into an all-out melee.

All the men looked at the petite brunette, who, in turn, stared at True Sin. Brian, who'd clearly given up on being a good Samaritan, nodded at Daphne and started toward the door.

"So," he heard Justin ask, "are you coming or going? Or coming and then going? Or coming and staying with us?"

When Truesen still didn't budge from his spot by the pool table, Justin shot Daphne a look of apology and headed toward the door, stopping in front of Emmett to give him a hug. With a conspiratorial wink, the flaming queen leaned in to exchange a hearty kiss with his Baby.

"Honeycutt! Hands off!" Brian bellowed as the door closed behind him.

Emmett chuckled, "He really does have eyes in the back of his head where you're concerned, Sweetie."

Justin grinned and gave his friend another quick kiss before following Brian. The Mormon apparently wasn't ready to be saved.

Truesen looked around in consternation and wrung his hands. This decision would change his life forever, and he didn't know if he was ready. He needed more time!

Daphne, who was watching True vacillate between going and staying, moved over and laid a comforting hand on his arm. "I know you're scared, True. But Brian and Justin are experienced tops who can make your first time memorable, in a positive, life-affirming way." She paused before amending, "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They won't offer again."

Truesen trembled, but after swallowing convulsively, determined that he was going to follow Daphne's advice. Mouthing ‘thank you' at the young woman, he dashed toward the door. 

Thundering footsteps resounded behind Justin, the soon-to-be-ex Mormon rushing after the departing blond, grabbing his hand, and holding on for dear life. True didn't say a word but was nevertheless clearly resolute about sampling some true sin.

The two young men caught up to Brian, who was leaning against his green Corvette. The brunet sighed, still skeptical about the budding sinner's readiness to lose his virginity. True Sin was all big brown doe eyes and naked torso, shrinking behind Justin as soon as Brian so much as glanced at him. "Big Guy, how about you drive the dick-mobile home and park it where it won't get vandalized?" the blond suggested. "No way could Sinner and I cram ourselves into the passenger seat."

Brian muttered, "That bubble butt of yours had better be right behind me, Sunshine," before climbing into the car and driving off. As the vehicle vanished from sight, Justin tugged on the tie which the Mormon still wore around his neck. "C'mon, True Sin, this way," Justin urged his companion. 

"B- but I can't walk around half naked. It's not proper!" the young man wailed, apparently just realizing that his shirt and tee were still decorating the floor in Woody's.

Justin stared at the boy in exasperation. Even though Justin guessed that he and Sin were about the same age, the blond felt immeasurably older than the raven-haired boy. He'd been out and proud since he was seventeen. Sure, he'd had a lot of support from family and friends, but he'd always stood up for his principles. It was hard for Justin to imagine sublimating his awareness that he was gay. He could understand, if not exactly condone, staying in the closet; however, if Justin chose that option, he would damned well be aware that it was his choice - he would still know he was gay.

"Believe me, True Sin, you do not want to reclaim your shirts after they've sopped up all the liquor and other shit from that floor. It's none too clean, you know," Justin asserted in an attempt to divert the Mormon from haring back into the bar. "You're better off getting a new shirt."

"Besides, you can't possibly be cold," Justin added, "considering that, even though spring has just begun, we're already sweltering in record-setting temps here in the Pitts." True still didn't seem convinced, so Justin decided to help out just a bit more. "Look, if it makes you more comfortable, I'll take off my shirt, too." With that, Justin freed his hand from Truesen's hold, pulled off his azure blue tee, which almost perfectly matched the color of his eyes, and tucked it into his back pocket.

"Uh, al- alright," Truesen agreed, crossing his arms protectively over his chest while Justin raised his eyes heavenward.

The simplest actions seemed to overwhelm this shrinking violet, the blond thought. He counseled himself to be patient and to try to understand. Justin had deflowered a couple virgins by that point, but he never imagined anyone quite like this queer duck.

"Wha- What- What's a bottom?" the Nervous Nellie stammered as they sauntered toward the loft. "The girl who brought me here - she said the c- cute guy leaning against the wall outside the b- bar was ‘a c- con- consummate b- bottom. The b- bottom of what?" The mixed-up Mormon rushed on, asking for answers before he lost the courage to do so, "And that, uh, colorfully dressed guy, what did he mean about not really being gay if you don't b- bottom? Does it have something to do with jerking yourself off?"

When the blond started giggling, Truesen hung his head in mortification. He thought he must seem like a total prat. In spite of the dark-haired lad's embarrassment, however, that giggle had an unexpected side effect. His penis - Truesen had never used any other word than that anatomically-correct appellation on the rare occasions when he'd had to refer to that particular body part - thickened and pushed against the fly of his dress slacks.

"True Sin, I'm not laughing at you," the blond consoled his companion as another giggle escaped. "I'm remembering what an idiot I made of myself the night Brian picked me up. I told him I liked Cheerios better when he asked me if I liked Special K. I babbled on about being versatile - and ambidextrous - because I had no clue what a top or a bottom was. Fuck!" Justin guffawed at the memory, "I couldn't even calculate my birth year fast enough to be believable when I claimed I was twenty-one." Smugly, the blond added, "Didn't matter, though. The guy couldn't keep his hands off me. This virgin kept up with the Great God Kinney. Almost wore him out, in fact."

"Uh, I still don't know what a bottom is. Or a top. I don't have a clue what versatile means. And Special K is a cereal," Truesen stated earnestly.

How could he help this kid with his steep learning curve? Justin mused to himself. Justin may have made a prat of himself initially, but he'd been ballsy, stalking the brunet stud and refusing to take ‘no' for an answer. True Sin was far more awkward and untutored in life in general, never mind the pitfalls and pleasures of being openly gay.

Truesen looked at the brash, confident young man walking next to him. He estimated that he was older than the blond by a couple of years, but he'd never exhibited the same certainty about anything, not even when he was proselytizing with Decken. Missionary service was required of all Mormons, so it wasn't like he'd had a choice about it. He'd been happy enough to follow his colleague's lead, not having even considered that his life might take a different direction. Now that he was veering wildly off course, Truesen felt his trepidation returning.

"Uh, Justin. It is Justin, right? We weren't exactly introduced," the Mormon babbled nervously. "Is it okay if I call you Justin? Anyway, I'm not so sure this is a good idea after all. Maybe I should just go back to my hotel and forget this evening ever happened."

Justin stopped and looked at the Mormon sinner. "True, I'm not gonna tell you what you should do, and I'm certainly not going to force you to fuck me and Brian. And just to be sure you understand, we'd be the ones doing the fucking - we'd be ‘topping' you. As the ‘bottom', you'd be the one penetrated." Knowing it was unkind and crude, but not in the mood for a lengthy game of ‘should I or shouldn't I,' Justin reached out and grabbed the Mormon's ass cheeks, pressing a couple fingers against his crack through the polyester fabric. "We'll be sticking our dicks in here," he said huskily. "But trust me, there's nothing that feels better for a queer than having his prostate stimulated. If you don't know what your prostate is, you can look it up in the dictionary. Fuck if I'll define it for you, but I will show you how to find it."

Noting how the other man's breathing had sped up, Justin continued, "I can tell you want this True Sin, but you have to make the choice. I was damned lucky that I met Brian when I cruised Liberty Avenue for the first time. Anything could have happened. Heck, I could have been raped if I'd trusted the wrong person. But even though Brian was high as a kite, he still took good care of me, making the experience pleasurable, so much so in fact, that we fucked again and again, all night long. There is some pain involved; it's part of bottoming. But the pleasure far outweighs the pain. We're willing to make your first time special, but you have to decide what you want." Justin stepped back, spreading out his arms, and invited once more, "So are you coming or going? Or coming and then going? Or coming and staying?"

Truesen took a deep breath, and as he exhaled almost shouted, "I'm coming with you."

"Better," responded Justin with a cheeky grin. "With a name like True Sin, you're bound for a long and wondrous career as a queer."

Truesen laughed wryly, "Enough with the mispronunciation. It's True-sen, not True Sin."

"I don't hear the difference, Mormie Boy. I dub thee ‘True Sin,' the Pitts' newest faggot!" Justin crowed, elbowing the Mormon in the side and winking at him.

"Justin, this really isn't easy for me," Truesen stated quietly as they resumed walking toward the city's most notorious loft, "I don't think any of my family or friends will ever talk to me again. Like I was telling your girlfriend..." Justin's sardonic expression at ‘girlfriend' halted Truesen's rambling.

"Uh, if she's not your girlfriend, what do you call her?" Truesen was getting more and more confused by all the new lingo. 

"She's a ‘girl' and she's a ‘friend,' Mormie Boy. But that doesn't automatically make her my ‘girlfriend' any more than it makes her yours, should you happen to one day call her your friend." Justin shook his head. "It's quite simple really. She's my friend. In fact, other than Brian, she's my best friend."

"B- but she called herself a ‘f- fag hag' when she dragged me from her apartment to that bar," stuttered the bewildered Mormon. "What's a ‘fag hag'?

Justin sighed, "You really do have a whole new language to learn, Sin. But for tonight at least, you have two gay sexperts to help you." The blond elaborated, "You've already learned what a top and bottom are. Fag is obviously short for faggot, which is a derisive term straights use for gay men. But since we refuse to accept it as belittling, we've adopted the term as one to be proud of. We're queers, ass pirates, fags, buttfuckers, uphill gardeners, and butt bandits. We're unashamed. We stand up for ourselves and each other. We're out and proud." Justin's voice had risen with each word of his declaration, eliciting agreement from passersby.

"I'm a rump ranger!"

"I'm your neighborhood poofter!"

"Come visit me! I'm your bum chum!"

Justin waved an imaginary baton, directing the chorus, pointing at others who piped in with their favorite slang terms, before indicating it was True Sin's turn. When no response was immediately forthcoming, he waved his wand again, aimed it at the Mormon, and lifted his eyebrows in encouragement.

"I'm gay," Truesen whispered.

"Louder," mouthed the blond.

"I'm gay," the boy got out at a nearly normal volume.

"Again. Louder," Justin mimed.

"I'm gay!" shouted the newborn faggot.

Whooping and hollering greeted that proclamation, with several of his fellow fags coming over to give True Sin hugs or pat him on the back. The former Mormon would later swear that the imaginary wand had trailed sparks of fairy dust, assisting him through his rebirth as a gay man. Those who heard the tale embroidered it further until it became an urban legend, that of Liberty Avenue's very own born-again gay.

After they resumed their walk to the loft, with some of the curious pedestrians following along behind them, the newborn queer asked, "So what is a fag hag, Justin? You never answered that question."

"A fag hag is a straight woman who generally prefers the company of gay men - except for when she wants some dick of her own, of course," Justin explained. "We queers are pretty damned hot and irresistible," he stated, with what Truesen was coming to recognize as the assertive blond's normal self-confidence. "A fag hag usually has a gay best friend." Justin pointed at himself. "C'est moi for Daphne." Then he elaborated further, "It can also be a woman who wishes she'd been born a gay man. I'll hafta introduce you to the neighborhood's most notorious hag. Debbie Novotny. She's gonna love you."

Justin's chortling didn't reassure Truesen that he wanted to meet a fag hag more brazen than Daphne.

"Okay. Uh, yeah, now I know something about f- fag hags. The young Mormon looked at the ground and confessed, "I'm still scared, J- Justin. This side of myself that I've j- just discovered," Truesen faltered; "well, like I was saying to your h- hag, I was raised in Culdesac - a one-horse town in Idaho. I never had a moment to myself; one of my siblings - I'm the youngest of eight - was always around, checking to make sure that I behaved myself and followed the tenets of the Church. My mom and my siblings homeschooled me because we were so far from the nearest school, and also because she didn't want me subjected to heathen influences. Only me, though. All the others were placed in public school by the time they started third grade. Maybe she always suspected that I was g- gay." Even though he'd just announced his sexuality to the club-goers of Liberty Avenue, the word ‘gay' wasn't ready to blithely trip off his tongue. It was getting easier to say, though, he noted to himself. 

The soon-to-be ex-Mormon slowly and deliberately continued, "I remember one time when I must have been twelve or thirteen years old... A fellow had a flat tire on the edge of town. I'd been delivering groceries to old Mrs. McCorkle. I was one of the first to see the stranded motorist, and I recall being entranced by his swarthy good looks and his colorful outfit. He had on the prettiest yellow slacks..." Truesen petered off before recommencing his tale, "and I, uh, I got hard down there." He gestured vaguely in the direction of his cock and stopped talking, blushing tomato red with embarrassment.

Justin couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes. Sheesh. This guy was such a prude that he apparently couldn't even say ‘penis.' "Baby steps," he muttered to himself. Maybe it would be easier for the overly-modest newbie to touch someone else's cock rather than his own, the blond sexpert decided. He reached out for the boy's hand and placed it over his own dick. "True Sin, this is my cock, my dick, my wang, my prick. In other words, it's a schlong, a snake, and a joystick. My custard launcher that stands at attention, weeps for joy, and wilts temporarily after shooting its load. We're going to become well acquainted with each other's rods, so you'd better learn what to call your one-eyed monster, starting now. I can assure you that you have a perfectly adequate tool. Brian never would have agreed to your joining us if it weren't a respectable knob. He's too much of a size queen, and so am I. So squeeze my tonsil tickler and rejoice; you've qualified for baptism by Pittsburgh's two most famous studs." Justin's smug grin might not have been modest, but it certainly was justified - as the clamor from the growing horde of queers attested.

"C'mon, Blondie. Stick that truncheon in me again!" One of the enterprising fags they'd passed on the street continued, "I'm lubed and ready for you!"

"Lemme suck your creamsicle, Taylor!" another bystander proposed.

A wandering hand reached around to fondle Justin's todger before he slapped it away. "Really, Brandon," he chided the man who'd been stalking him for months, "what makes you think you merit breaking my no repeats policy? Hankering for my sperm spitter up your ass just because you lost the bet with Brian, were then tossed outta the loft, and subsequently developed a fixation for bottoming, doesn't justify a repeat." Fed up with the obnoxious blond who'd thought to replace Brian as the Stud of Liberty Avenue and kept turning up everywhere Justin went, the far more attractive blond added, "You never really measured up to my standards anyway. Run along now."

Shortly after Brandon turned tail and slinked away, the crowd reached Brian and Justin's apartment building. Justin turned, let out a respectable whistle - even if it didn't compare to Daphne's - and addressed the throng, "Okay, men, I know you're salivating to watch our new sinner's deflowering, but think back to your first time. Would you have wanted someone else watching your first fumbling attempts at sex? Huh? I know I've become a living legend in Pittsburgh, but I would have been mortified if anyone else had seen me trying to act all brash and confident the first time I was alone with Brian."

Heads nodded and murmurs of agreement filled the air. "Good luck, little virgin,' offered one bear, placing a large, comforting hand on Truesen's shoulder as he and two twinks walked away together. 

A tall brunet, who bore a passing resemblance to Brian, enviously reflected, "I'd give my left nut to spend another night with the studs. I had a terrible first experience as a bottom and was a top only for years. But after my night with those two experienced tops - the care they took with me and the pleasure they provided - I've become versatile and enjoy both topping and bottoming. You're in good hands, boy," he reassured the nervous virgin before strolling off with a wistful smile on his face.

The rest of the crowd quickly dissipated, everyone presumably heading off to whatever their original destinations had been before they'd been diverted by the spectacle of Justin instructing the soon-to-be-deflowered virgin in basic gay etiquette and terminology.

Song for Chapter 2

Billy Joel: An Innocent Man

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQCWY5ynBaw