Ugly Uglier Things

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: Yes I need an editor. No, I do not want an editor.

If that bothers you, quit reading.

Yes, there's too many people to keep track of. Yes it jumps around too much. Yes it's too long. Yes, it's too short. Yes it's in the wrong category. Yes this is stupid shit, and yes I suck.

Also, if male bisexuality bothers you, please hit the backspace key now.

For everyone else, I hope you enjoy this little

Tale.

This is Part 2 of 'Ugly Things' in the Loving Wives category. I wrote this to be a stand-alone story but it may help to read 'Ugly Things' in the Loving Wives category just to get the back story of Sage Smith, the central character of this story.

*****

Chapter 1

Sage Smith knew she had screwed up, screwed up royally when she came to. Her mouth tasted horrible, tasted horrible from the vodka and orange juice, the weed, and the cocks she'd put in it. It tasted terrible from all the sperm she'd swallowed.

Her skin felt sticky, tight. She realized, she'd not swallowed all the sperm; she'd taken more than one man's semen on her smiling, laughing face.

She vaguely remembered Robin, dear, sweet, loving Robin Boudreaux, her boyfriend coming into the party.

She remembered making eye contact, seeing the hurt in his warm brown eyes.

"Oh God," Sage sobbed out.

She barely found the bathroom before emptying her guts into the toilet bowl.

"You all right, Angel?" a handsome young man with a beautiful body and soft, caring eyes asked.

"No," Sage sobbed as she curled up around the commode.

The man stepped around Sage and grabbed a wash cloth. He then wet it in the sink then squatted down and gently sponged Sage's face. He kept making gentle shushing sounds while Sage sobbed.

"Going be all right, going be all right," he said.

"No it's not," Sage whimpered. "My boyfriend, Robin, he saw me, saw me fucking some guy."

The young man didn't say anything at that, just wiped Sage's face clean of the semen and vomit.

Then he smiled.

"You finished in here? I need to pee really bad," the man said.

Sage weakly wobbled out of the bathroom. She looked around her surroundings now that her eyes were fully opened.

This was not Vernon Flahey's home. Vernon Flahey had been the neighbor of Robin, the man that had invited Sage to his house. Robin had forbade Sage from attending any more parties, after catching Sage harmlessly flirting with two gorgeous male dancers.

"Harmlessly flirting? Harmlessly flirting?" Robin had screamed. "Sage! You were dry humping one guy while his buddy had your tits out, playing with them! That's not harmlessly flirting."

"Man! Can't tell me what do no," Sage had decided and had gone to Vernon's next party.

Now, the four foot ten inch strawberry blonde had no idea where she was. She could hear the brown haired man behind her, noisily emptying his bladder into the toilet. She walked left and entered the room she'd just left when she ran for the bathroom. On the bed, the same bed she'd been laying on, was a blonde man. He was equally gorgeous, muscled arms and chest, small patch of blonde pubic hair and a flaccid cock that was nearly five inches long, quite thick, even as it lay against his hairless thigh. The two large egg shaped testicles dangled against his thigh, his well-muscled thigh as he slept.

"Hey, D'Eric, your turn cook," the brown haired man said lightly as he entered the room, pulling his shoulder length hair back into a ponytail.

Sage looked at him. He had nearly identical body build as the handsome blonde. The only difference was, this man had a thin patch of chest hair.

"D'Angelo, I'm kill you," D'Eric playfully warned. "That beautiful little midget still here?"

"Still here and looking right at you and probably kick your ass calling her a midget," D'Angelo agreed, laughing.

"I'm not a midget!" the four foot ten inch Sage loudly protested.

She had a pale, round face, large green eyes, 30DD breasts, 26 inch waist, and 31 inch hips. She had an adorable bubble butt, small triangle of pink pubic hair, short, slightly cubby legs, and ankle length strawberry blonde hair.

But Sage Smith was no midget. And resented the blonde cutie for saying it.

"Oops!" D'Eric smiled, opening a blue eye and looking right at Sage. "Maybe ought open my eyes before opening my mouth, huh?"

"By the way, how you spell Sah JAY?" D'Angelo asked the eighteen year old woman.

"S. A. G. E," Sage spelled out. "Where are my clothes?"

"Don't know, didn't have any when we got here," D'Eric said, getting to his feet.

"Oh God," Sage whimpered again.

"Let me piss then I'll do breakfast," D'Eric said, walking out of the room.

"Wash them hands," both E'Eric and D'Angelo said.

"Shit, shit, shit, I do not, I just do not believe I did this," Sage whined, sitting on the lip of the bed.

"Happens all the time at Vernon's parties," D'Angelo agreed. "But, hey, let me see I can't find you a shirt or something."

"My purse?" Sage asked.

"Left it out here on the couch, I think," D'Angelo said, nodding with his head toward their living room.

Sage left the room, found the living room, and found her purse. She grabbed the purse and dug out her cell phone. Her heart thudded in her chest when she saw there was a message from Robin.

"Don't," Robin's voice said heavily. "Don't bother coming home. I brought all your shit by your momma's place."

She hit the number one on the touch screen and her call went straight into Robin's voice mail.

"Please, please Robin, please," she begged when the tone chimed. "Please, you have to forgive me, baby, I'm so sorry."

D'Angelo gently put a folded tee shirt next to the now sobbing Sage and left the room.

There was a message from her mother and Sage wiped her nose then hit the button to listen.

"What did you do?" Amy's voice shrilled. "Robin brung by your shit; we ain't got room for, I mean, shit girl, I'm nine months now. We ain't got room, need come get your shit, all I got to say, just need come get your shit, know what I'm saying?"

Sage deleted the three minute message.

D'Eric walked into the kitchen and began preparing their breakfasts.

"Could have made coffee, huh? Ever think of that?" D'Eric gently teased D'Angelo.

"Uh, hey, when it's my turn cook, I give you any shit?" D'Angelo asked, putting an arm around the other man's waist.

"I'm just saying," D'Eric smiled and the two men kissed.

Sage shrugged into the tee shirt, still crying. Robin had forbade her from going to any of Vernon Flahey's parties; she got silly, amorous, and flirty whenever she drank. She'd smoked weed a few times in the past and knew it made her somewhat reckless, somewhat aggressive. Obviously, weed and vodka made her stupid too.

The tee shirt fell below her knees, forming a big, billowy dress on her.

"Hey Sage, how you like your eggs? Scrambled? Oh good, scrambled it is," D'Eric called out.

"Scrambled is only way he knows how do them," D'Angelo smiled.

Sage saw that the man had put on a pair of silky looking boxer shorts. The lump his cock and balls in the shiny material was substantial.

"But coffee's ready; how you take it?" D'Angelo continued.

"Lots of cream, lots of sugar," Sage said, walking into the kitchen.

D'Eric had also slipped into a pair of silky underwear. He wore a pair of briefs that were quite brief indeed. His package bulged almost obscenely as he stirred the eggs in the measuring cup.

"Mom showed me this," the man smiled. "Makes less mess."

The coffee was good and strong and sweet. Sage sipped it slowly, her head still pounding, her heart still hammering.

"So, your husband's pretty mad at you?" D'Angelo asked gently as he sat at the small table, sipping his own coffee.

"Boyfriend," Sage glumly said. "Says don't bother coming home."

"God, oh Sweetheart, hate hearing that," D'Eric said as he scooped the eggs onto three different plates.

The two men sat and listened to Sage as she poured her heart out to them. She loved Robin, he made her happy, he gave her life meaning.

"I mean, almost got killed when that meth head held up the grocery store and Robin told my boss 'she doesn't work here no more' and..." Sage said, nibbling on a piece of bacon.

"Burns? Remember that," D'Eric agreed.

Sage found out that both men danced at Conquistadors. They had both studied dancing at the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, so it was just a natural progression.

"Actually majored in Business; dancing was my minor," D'Angelo said as he stood up.

"Geology, minored in Engineering," D'Eric said.

"But, as long as I can do this," D'Angelo said and kicked a leg up over his head, then twirled.

"And look good doing it, D'Eric agreed.

"Why not?" D'Angelo said. "Time to go into business when I'm thirty, thirty five, huh?"

"And what business would you go in?" Sage asked as the two men quickly cleaned the kitchen.

"Honestly? As much money as Conquistadors pulls in? Night club," D'Angelo said.

"Oil field," D'Eric said. "Worked a year off-shore, kind of took a gap year between high school and college."

"Y'all both live here?" Sage asked, looking around the apartment.

"Yeah," D'Eric said, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"I had the place first," D'Angelo said. "Was staying here, trying to decide if I'm going for a Master's or not, dancing at The Hammer when D'Eric came in."

"He's standing there, doing this shit, trying get oil on his back," D'Eric said, comically pantomiming someone trying to reach that spot that can't be reached.

"And he says he'll help me, if I'll just hold still," D'Angelo said.

D'Eric had put his arm around D'Angelo's waist, large hand on D'Angelo's belly, right above D'Angelo's waistband. With his other hand, he applied the baby oil to D'Angelo's back.

"Uh, thanks," D'Angelo had said, throat suddenly dry.

"No problem," D'Eric had said and lightly slapped D'Angelo on his taut buttocks. "Just get me when it's my turn, huh?"

While Raoul, real name Warren was out on the stage, gyrating for a Bachelorette party, D'Eric and D'Angelo chatted.

D'Eric was actually Derek Morrison Miller but he believed the fancier spelling of his name gave him some class. He had not legally changed his name, but spelled his name D'Eric on any applications and other forms. He even signed his name that way.

D'Angelo was named D'Angelo Joseph Dimelli. D'Angelo had been his mother's maiden name, Maria Elisabeth D'Angelo.

In high school, one of D'Angelo girlfriends shorten his name to 'Angel' and he had liked that. Until some boys, jealous of his handsome face and well-formed body started calling him 'Angela.'

He reverted back to D'Angelo.

D'Eric confided that he had just moved out of Sharp Shire Dormitory on campus, into an older woman's home, renting a bedroom. He honestly hated it. The woman had some insane rules and regulations and complained loudly about his late hours.

"God, that bathroom at the dormitory? It still smell like a soggy shit?" D'Angelo asked, handsome face twisted in disgust.

"Oh, you were there when it smelled good?" D'Eric joked.

The two men laughed. Then D'Angelo put on his hard hat and strutted out onto the stage. D'Eric watched through the curtains as his new buddy ripped open the thin tee shirt to the screams of the women.

A few nights later, just as their evening was ending, D'Angelo invited D'Eric back to his apartment to smoke a little weed.

"It's some Acapulco Gold," he confided.

"No shit? Dude!" D'Eric agreed.

They went back to D'Angelo's apartment, D'Eric complimented D'Angelo on his furnishings, complimented him on the apartment itself.

D'Angelo had stripped out of his street clothes and now wore a kimono style robe. He sat on the couch and pulled out a bong that was shaped to look like a reclining nude woman. The mouthpiece was her extended feet.

"Cute," D'Eric smiled, looking at the bong.

They smoked a good sized bowl of the potent weed, two friends talking and laughing.

D'Angelo's robe had fluttered open and D'Eric was looking at D'Angelo's flaccid cock and hairless balls.

"Damn, how you get your nut sack smooth like that?" D'Eric asked, pulling down his nylon shorts and jock strap. "Tried shaving mine, can't never seem get it all."

"Wax it," D'Angelo admitted. "First few times? Holy. Shit. Thought I was going cry."

"Never thought of that!" D'Eric admitted.

"Want me to, I'll do it for you," D'Angelo offered.

D'Eric and D'Angelo agreed, one dancer waxing another dancer's balls and ass crack and anus did not make them gay.

"Maybe a little curious," D'Angelo joked as he got the hot wax out of the microwave oven.

The contact was intimate, much more intimate than the first time they'd met, when D'Eric had oiled D'Angelo's back for him.

"Don't hit me when..." D'Angelo said as he knelt in front of D'Eric.

Then he gave a sharp tug to the tape.

D'Eric was glad they'd smoked a good sized bowl of good weed. The lotion D'Angelo rubbed into his aching, stinging balls and ass crack did soothe some of the raw pain.

And as D'Angelo massaged the lotion into his skin, D'Eric's cock grew quite hard. Seeing this, D'Angelo continued to massage D'Eric's reddened flesh with his left hand while his right hand gripped D'Eric's hard cock. He slowly worked a slick finger into D'Eric's rectum.

The two twenty two year old men kissed, tongues tasting tongue.

"You ever, you ever been, uh, with a man?" D'Angelo asked softly.

"No," D'Eric admitted.

"Me either," D'Angelo confessed.

The first time, they lay together in D'Angelo's queen sized bed, side by side. They were the same height, which made sixty nine easy. D'Angelo put his mouth over the head of D'Eric's cock and licked all around, tasting another man's flesh. It tasted of sweat, a little of baby oil, of the lotion he'd but on D'Eric's scrotum.

D'Eric wrapped his right hand around the shaft of D'Angelo's cock while his lips wrapped around the head of his friend's cock. He tugged on his friend's thick meat as he tasted another man's flesh. D'Angelo tasted of sweat, of baby oil, of soap. The texture was hard, and soft.

D'Angelo wormed his finger into D'Eric's rectum and sought D'Eric's prostate gland. The contact was very pleasurable to D'Eric, another man's finger in his rectum.

"Mm," D'Eric moaned approval, sending shivers through D'Angelo's cock.

Then D'Eric took the head of D'Angelo's cock out of his mouth and tongued D'Angelo's hairless scrotum.

"Oh fuck yes," D'Angelo groaned in pleasure.

D'Eric gently stroked D'Angelo's cock as he sucked and licked D'Angelo's testicles. Then he put his mouth around D'Angelo's cock head again and began bobbing his head up and down, sucking on his friend, his lover's cock.

"D'Angelo sped up his own sucking, working nearly half of D'Eric's thick cock into his mouth. His finger thrust in and out of D'Eric's tight anus. Then he wormed a second finger into D'Eric's tight ass and both men groaned.

"Fuck, I'm..." D'Eric whined.

"God, I'm about to..." D'Angelo warmed.

Both men sprayed the thick semen of their first spurts onto the faces of their lover before their lover managed to get his mouth back around their cocks.

The taste was salty, bitter, but not unpleasant. The two swallowed their friends' semen and continued licking and sucking on their friend's cock.

Finally, they fell away from each other. Laughing, both men then went back into the living room. They smoked a second bong of weed, then ate a frozen pizza.

The very next day, D'Eric told Mrs. Duvalier, the old woman that he was moving out, then lugged his meager belongings to D'Angelo's apartment. Mrs. Duvalier begged and pleaded, then threatened lawsuits, but D'Eric was firm in his decision.

In the light of day, both men were at first a little sheepish around each other. Then D'Eric kissed D'Angelo and the two men made love again.

The first time D'Angelo shoved his fat cock up D'Eric's tight ass, it had been at D'Eric's insistence. D'Angelo fingered D'Eric's tight ass whenever he sucked D'Eric's cock, massaged D'Eric's prostate gland whenever he sucked D'Eric's cock.

It had been a girlfriend that had taught D'Angelo that secret. He had enjoyed it when Cherry had jammed her spittle wet finger up his ass and rubbed his prostate gland while she slurped noisily at his straining cock. And it had bothered D'Angelo that he had liked having her finger up his ass. He found a petty reason to break up with the pretty thirty two year old woman and had moved on.

But now, three years later, D'Angelo slowly and methodically greased up his male lover's tight ass while D'Eric knelt on their living room floor. Then D'Angelo greased up his cock and pressed the blunt head to D'Eric's wiggling anus.

D'Eric grunted and whined in pain. But soon the pain gave away to pleasure and the two men sweated and grunted and thrust against each other, almost in a frenzy to climax.

The first time D'Eric shoved his thick cock into D'Angelo's tight ass, D'Angelo lay on his back and wrapped his dancer's legs around the slim waist of D'Eric. The two kissed passionately as D'Eric slowly pushed into D'Angelo's resisting hole. Then, with a grunt, D'Eric was balls deep in D'Angelo and the two men shuddered in pleasure.

It had felt wonderful to D'Angelo, having his cock inside of D'Eric's tight anal sheath. D'Eric's ass was actually tighter than Cherry's ass had been.

It had felt wonderful to D'Angelo, having Cherry's slender finger in his own ass. But feeling D'Eric's fat cock pushing into him, stretching him, filling him was indescribable. He pulled his lover's face down and kissed him passionately.

On the occasion that one, or the other, or both had dates with women, D'Angelo and D'Eric did not bring their date's home. Many of their 'dates' were married women, so their evenings with these women were generally at the woman's expense, and usually ended up in a motel room. This was true even on those occasions when the women wanted both men. Their apartment was there sanctuary, their very own place where they could be together.

There were the occasional gay men that hit on D'Angelo and D'Eric. Both were always very polite, very gentle, but both rebuffed the advances of these men.

"Thank you, I am very flattered, but I am straight," was their stock answer to these men.

When Anita Lopez opened Conquistadors, D'Eric and D'Angelo were among the first hires. D'Angelo's apartment was in the Villa Plaza apartment complex, and the new nightclub was less than five miles away.

(It would have amused D'Angelo to find out that Anita Lopez, the owner of Conquistadors was also the owner of Villa Plaza Apartments. The young Latin woman also owned the Courtyard Mall and many other properties and businesses in and around Pinoak, Louisiana.)

Vernon Flahey was a creepy man, an odd man, a sleazy man. D'Angelo and D'Eric suspected that the man was a closeted homosexual. But he had great weed, and there were always beautiful women at his parties. On the nights they were not working, on the nights they had no dates, D'Eric and D'Angelo would be in Vernon's pool, or hot tub, or one of his spare bedrooms, fucking one or more of Vernon's female guests.

The majority of these women were dancers. They danced at Elegante, or Mickey's, or Club Fantastic.

The extremely short Sage Smith was an oddity among the long legged strippers. She was short, she was wide eyed, she wasn't jaded, she wasn't strung out. D'Eric and D'Angelo both latched onto the sweet innocent.

If pressed to say why they'd allowed Sage Smith to invade their sanctuary, why she was their first female guest, neither D'Angelo or D'Eric would be able to say. Other than both men found her to be sexy, adorable, and vulnerable.