The Legend of the Ditto Twins (32 page)

He turned
to us. "Don't ever let anyone photograph you unless you're dressed exactly
alike. And never alone. That's the magic."

We nodded
obediently.

"Now,
go take your showers. First, a long hot one. Then, an ice cold one. Closes the
pores."

Helmut
III guided us into the adjoining bathroom, and turned on the water full blast.
The shower stall itself was big enough to hold half a dozen people. The number
of shower heads—and I counted them—confirmed the fact.

"The
hotter the water, the better the photos," he explained and leaned against
the tiled wall. "I am being paid by the hour, so we must not waste Jay's
money. Get your ass in gear—is that how to say it?"

We tried
not to gulp. First, we took off our shoes and socks, then our shirts, and
finally, after turning our backs, dropped our jeans.

I could
almost feel his eyes on our naked butts, but I tried to put the thought out of
my mind and preceded Clark into the stall. After testing the temperature of the
water, we moved to opposite ends of the cubicle, as far from each other as
possible, and eased under separate near-scalding streams.

As clouds
of steam began to fog the room, obliterating our view of Helmut III, we began to
soap up and relax. Maybe we'd been wrong about him eyeing our naked butts; he
was certainly being completely professional about the task at hand. And, I must
confess, we were kind of disappointed.

That's
when Helmut III reappeared out of a cloud of steam, a can of shaving cream in
one hand, a razor in the other. And completely naked. His gym-built physique
was breathtaking, and I felt really ordinary by comparison.

"It
will be easier to shave in here." Helmut III placed the items on a glass
shelf under one of the showerheads and stepped between us. "Besides, I am
in severe need of a shower myself. Last night was a big night." His smile
oozed with innuendo. "When Jay rang, I came here at once without bathing.
I must now make myself decent." He began to lather his face. Standing
there under the blistering water, we couldn't help but watch. It was almost a
performance. Soon, he was soaping up his crotch, and I dared to take a peek. His
S
chwanz
(another new word)
was even more impressive than I remembered it from the film.

"You
have seen the photo over Jay's bed?" he asked.

We both
replied affirmatively.

"It
was, I believe, taken on a very special day."

"Yes,
very special. He told us. He..."

“...told
you, too?"

"Oh,
yes. He speaks of Clay each day." He began to soap up his ass, first one
buttock, then the other, and finally the gulley between them. "One day,
one detail. Another day, another detail. I have heard it all." He paused.
"Have you?"

"Very
tactful of you," said Clark. "Yeah, we have."

"From
Clay," I added. "All the secrets."

Helmut
III nodded. "Clay is very good for Jay. A tonic. I have never seen him
more happy." He leaned back under the shower, closing his eyes and arching
his back, to rinse. "To love someone that much for thirty years." He
sighed. "I cannot imagine loving anyone for thirty days."

He
stepped back out from under the spray, and ran his hands over his hair and face
to wipe off the excess water. At that moment, I could see why he was, as Jay
said, a "living legend." He seemed superhuman, a life force, a god.
Well, a
demi
-god anyway.

"Now
the cold shower." Deftly, he turned the faucets in opposite directions; we
damned near died but toughed it out. "The colder the water, the better the
pictures," he assured us and reached for the shaving cream and razor.
"Who wants to go first?"

"I
will," I said, trying to wipe myself off with my wet hands. I looked down
and realized that my penis had shriveled under the freezing water to the size
of a peanut.

So had
Clark's.

But not
Helmut's.

Before I
knew it, my cheeks were being smeared with pine-scented
shaving cream, and all I could think about was the last time
that someone other than myself had done this to me. Without moving, I looked
over at Clark, who was watching with rapt fascination. His Little Fella was
beginning to turn into a Man Dick again. Mine was too.

As Helmut
III continued to massage the foam into what little beard I sported, his fingers
seemed to be generating a current straight to my dick, and I knew without
looking that it was beginning to rise. I closed my eyes and tried to think of
something to make it go down—dead puppies, algebra, Mom—but nothing seemed to
work.

Seemingly
oblivious, Helmut III set the shaving cream back on the shelf and picked up the
razor. Placing one hand above my left sideburn, he ran the razor down my cheek.
As he did so, my erection twitched against his thigh. I nearly died.

"Do
not be embarrassed," he said. "It is perfectly natural. Here, we find
ourselves in a very erotic situation." He chuckled. "It would make a
super scene in a porn film,
r
ichtig?
And we are all
three attracted to one another,
ja?
The big problem is that I have a promise to myself never to
mix business with pleasure." He continued to shave me. "And that is a
pity. If we were in a bar, I would come up to you at once and say, 'You are
very hot men. Shall we go home and play?' But not at work. Not here." He
patted my shoulder. "I am finished with you." He turned to Clark.
"You are next."

He began
to spread shaving cream on Clark's face. I retreated back under the shower. He
resumed his lecture.

"And
I believe we would have a night to remember, the three of us. Yes, it would be
quite an event. Legendary. Is that the word?"

We
nodded.

"You
see, I have never played with twins before, and it has always been my fondest
fantasy. As you may observe, I am growing aroused, too."

Making no
pretense of hiding my interest, I leaned forward to watch his erection begin to
defy gravity. Clark, you can bet, was looking in the same place.

"But
it is not to be. I would never do anything to insult or annoy Jay in any way or
compromise his reputation. He is a very great artist. And he has been very good
to me. There. I am finished with you. Now, rinse off and dry."

He
offered each of us a towel. The subject was closed.

"Pat.
Do not rub. As soon as you are dry, go back into the studio. I will join you as
soon as I am ready. We must not waste time or the pores will open again."

"Did
you two ever..."

“...have
a threesome?"

Clark and
I, the white fluffy towels wrapped around our waists, were standing in the
studio with Clay and Jay, waiting for Helmut III to reappear with our new
clothes.

Clay
looked at Jay; Jay nodded permission.

"Oh,
yeah, we had several, and they're great fun..."

Clay
interrupted him. "But also very dangerous. Why? Are you..."

“...thinking
of widening your horizons?"

I
shrugged. "No, not really."

"Just
considering our options," added Clark.

"Well,
well, well." Jay smiled knowingly. "Is there a gay man on earth who
doesn't want to bed Helmut?"

"I
don't," said Clay.

Jay moved
to kiss his brother's forehead. "That's the right answer, Babe."

Clay
turned back to us. "But if you do follow your dicks into a three-way,
always remember that it's..."

“...a
game, nothing more," concluded Jay. "Don't ever let it..."

“...get
in the way of the real thing."

Clark and
I looked at each other, trying to digest his words. While we were sorting them
out, Jay moved to a cabinet, rummaged in it, and produced a handful of condoms.

"The
age of consent in this country is sixteen," he announced. "You aren't
fifteen, are you?"

I gave
him the finger, scooped up several, handed half of them to Clark, and took the
others for myself. That was when we realized there were no pockets in the
towels, which were all we had on.

Shaking
his head in mock disgust, Jay took them back. "I'll make up a care package
for you."

Just
then, Helmut III reappeared, carrying a small pile of clothing. His appearance
had changed dramatically, and he was more enticing than ever. His baseball cap
had been discarded, and a mane of soft blond hair framed his face like a halo.
A tight white undershirt that caressed his musculature and accented his tan had
replaced his baggy sweatshirt. Brief denim cutoffs that barely contained his
package had supplanted his ratty jeans. And he had shaved. His skin was
flawless. He was, however, no taller than when last we saw him.

But Jay
was not at all interested in what Helmut III was wearing, only in the clothes
that he had assembled for us. Carefully, our other uncle sorted through the
pile and eventually decided on cutoff jeans and chambray shirts.

"Try
these on!"

We were
so eager to please that we dropped our towels without a thought. The cutoffs
were as snug as the pair Helmut III was wearing, but we managed to squeeze into
them.

Clay just
sat and stared. "Now, the shirts."

"Buttoned..."

“...or
unbuttoned?"

"Buttoned,
except for the top two buttons." Jay stepped back. "No, unbutton the
third one!" We obeyed as he peered at us through his view-finder. "
Whaddaya
think?"

"What
about ripping off the sleeves?" suggested Helmut III. "They both have
swimmer's arms."

Jay
considered the possibility at length, then nodded. Ten minutes later we slipped
back into the now sleeveless work shirts. Jay and Helmut III nodded silently at
each other. Back in the corner, Clay nodded too.

"A
bench, I think—so they can be close," said Jay.

Helmut found
a bench, and before I knew it, we were straddling it, me behind my brother, my
arms around his waist, my dick already poking at his familiar butt.

Jay took
several test shots with his Polaroid, and as we waited for them to develop, I
leaned closer to Clark.

"I'm
getting hard," I whispered. "Can't help it."

He leaned
back. "Me, too. Shit. What should we do?"

"Maybe
go in the john and get each other off first?"

"Oh,
sure. That'd be real professional."

We started
to giggle, but stopped when we realized that Jay and Helmut III had moved
closer, holding the
Polaroids
in front of our faces.

"It
needs something to break the line," said Jay. "A chain around the
base of the throat, I think."

"I'll
check." A moment later Helmut III was back, holding a shoebox filled with
jewelry. Eventually, he found two thin gold chains, each adorned with a
crucifix.