“Do you have plans later?” Matt asked Todd.
“You mean if Paul doesn’t select me?” Todd teased.
Matt nodded. His cock nodded, too. “I thought we could get better acquainted, handshake-wise.”
That was the thing about the GM: their handshakes were simultaneously commonplace and intimate.
Commonplace in that these exchanges were not dressed up in formalities. Their purpose was not obscured by social conventions. There was no delicate dance as part of some broader mating ritual that led to a change in status, exchanges of promises. It was sex—plain and simple.
But intimate—magically intimate. Absent the mummery of any priest, the commonplace exchange of fluids between two males was transubstantiated into fraternity and brotherhood.
William’s voice rang out. “Okay ladies, gather round and settle down!”
It was time for Paul’s first handshake.
Todd smiled at Matt, stroked his red necktie, and attempted nonchalance. “Let’s see who Paul selects. It could be you. It could be me. But, sure, if we’re both in the reject pile, I could be persuaded to take a private tour of the locker room.”
The locker room? Todd obviously knew about Matt’s rendezvous with William.
“That might be arranged,” Matt said, referencing the locker room. “But there won’t be anyKraken. Just me.”
Todd smiled shyly. “A pillar candle is all I want.” He turned and went to join the others.
Matt found Paul and stood beside him.
William waited for the room to quiet down, then he addressed Paul. “Another tradition of ours is that as a new member you get to pick one of us—anyone but your sponsor, Harley. And you get to specify the sex act youwant to perform with that person: handjob, blowjob, topping, or bottoming. It’s our way of welcoming you to the group.”
Matt glanced at Paul, hoping to see excitement, seeing panic instead. This was unexpected social interaction an order of magnitude greater than anything Paul had previously experienced.
Matt leaned over and whispered in Paul’s ear, trying to reassure him. “You’ll love it! Like getting to pick ice cream flavors at Braums!”
“I. Don’t. Like. Ice cream,” Paul whispered back.
“I just meant that you get to choose everything! The guy. The sex act. It’s like building your own sundae,” Matt whispered.
“I DON’T LIKE STICKY FINGERS!” Paul said loudly.
Everyone laughed.
Matt froze. He worried that Paul would interpret the laughter as derision and revert to his default mode: distrust.
William, who had vehemently opposed Paul’s candidacy, salvaged the situation.
“You’re a girl after my own heart, Paul dahling,” William said. “I can’t abide sticky fingers either! I’ll help you select one of our tidier members. And I’ll ensure you have good silicone lubricant. How’s that sound?”
“Good,” Paul said.
William nodded. “Now, let’s start with the sex act. Tell your ole’ Godmother what you want to do?”
“Bottom.”
“I knew we were kindred spirits!” William gushed. “We’ll find you the perfect top. Let’s see….” William studied the eight other members. He pointed to Evan and Harley, and explained they were predominantly tops, although, of course, Paul couldn’t choose Harley, who had also been his sponsor.
Next, William explained that Matt preferred topping but didn’t have enough experience to rule out versatility. Jake—he of the blue high tops—was equally skilled at topping or bottoming. Everyone else skewed towards bottoms.
“I’m still kinda mad at Matt,” Paul grumbled.
William nodded in sympathy. “He has that effect on a lot of us.”
