u/mrdanielsteel

The next morning, I watched as my Aunt and Uncle packed up their Jeep with camping supplies, the trunk filled to the brim for their trip to the Poconos.

“Jesus Christ,” Nate bitched from the sidelines, watching his mother stuff in one last bag. “You’re only going for one night. How much stuff do you need?”

“Never hurts to be prepared,” Uncle Jack interjected, finding a last bit of room amongst the duffels and closing the trunk behind him, snapping it locked.

“You’ll be okay, Kevin?” Aunt Eileen asked. She read the look of mild anxiety on my face. “I know these boys can be rambunctious.”

Before I could reply, I caught Nate grinning. “Of course he will, Mom.” He extended an arm to my shoulder, the first gesture of affection he’d shown me in public since I arrived. “Trust us, he’s in very good hands.”

We watched as the Jeep pulled away and my Uncle honked as they drove down the long drive of the property, its taillights disappearing from view, leaving the three of us behind.

“It’s on,” called out Greg, high-fiving Nate as they made their way back into the house before me as I reluctantly followed behind.

I turned just inside, making my way to the bathroom to take a leak, flushing the toilet when I’d finished and staring at myself in the mirror as I turned the faucet to wash my hands.

Things had already taken such a turn with Nate and Greg since I’d arrived, and that was with his parents still in the house, doing it all just under their noses. I was filled with that familiar mix of anxiety and horniness, of anticipation and excitement, my desire hardly knowing one without the other. Things had already gotten so wild — I could only imagine what it would be like now that we were alone.

I wiped my hands with the small towel hanging on the wall, taking one last glimpse at myself before opening the door to leave.

I guess there was only one way to find out.

I walked outside to find Nate and Greg already on the back deck, shirts off, sporting only their athletic shorts and backwards hats, beers already in their hands.

They sure didn’t waste any time.

“You want one little guy?” Greg asked, pointing at a cooler they’d setup by the table.

“Nah, I’m okay,” I replied. I’d never drunk before, and wasn’t sure I wanted to start now, the well-behaved young man in me still trying to stay in control, despite my desire becoming fully unmoored.

“Suit yourself,” Greg replied, walking over to the lounge chairs assembled on the deck. “Gotta work on this tan, man. Summer’s halfway over.”

Then he reached down and, to my surprise, pulled off his shorts, revealing that dick, the one that I spent the night before worshipping, and then the thing that I hadn’t seen in its full glory the other night, or in the light of day for that matter — his perfect, round, hairless ass.

Greg noticed me watching him, ever vigilant in being appreciated.

“You’re kinda obsessed with me, huh, little guy,” he asked, seeing right through any facade of cool I was trying and failing to maintain.

I blushed, the way I always did when he caught me, my desire for him impossible to conceal.

“Nah,” I replied, not quite sure why I even tried to deny it at this point. It was pretty obvious anyway.

“It’s all right,” he said, smiling, sticking out his tongue like a goon. “I like the attention.”

Nate appeared behind him, noticing his friend’s newfound nakedness, and quickly followed suit, stripping off his shorts and dropping them to the ground, dick hanging loose and low, his frame looking particularly lean in the late morning light.

I observed them both, their bodies the definition of perfection, and wondered how I’d ended up here, a quiet week in the mountains somehow amounting to the sexual awakening of my most wild fantasies.

They assembled themselves on the pair loungers, laying back — limbs splayed, cocks out, soaking in the sun.

I stood watching them, unsure of what to do.

“You gonna join us?” Nate asked, raising his hand to cover his forehead, squinting up against the raging sun.

I observed them, so comfortable and relaxed, everything about my being so awkward and uptight. I should have felt more at ease, the two of them having inducted me into their little world the night before, any pretense of hiding my desire a failed effort.

But that was the thing about them — despite what had happened, they seemed determined to maintain the veneer of merely being bros. It was as if they were desperate to maintain their straightness despite the tension that existed between them—between us—the events having taken place gayer than most could imagine.

The contradiction left me confused, uneasy. Despite sucking them off, despite swallowing their nuts, certain intimacies felt out of reach.

We hadn’t so much as kissed.

I stared back at Nate, not certain of what to do.

“You gotta relax a little man,” said Greg, turning his cap around so the brim came to the front, shielding him from the sun. “It’s really just us boys now.”

Mildly convinced, I walked over to the third chair beside Greg, right along the deck rail, pulling my shirt over my head and slowly, hesitantly, sliding off my shorts, revealing my naked body.

“Thaaaaat’s it,” Nate called out approvingly to Greg, laughing in encouragement. “Now he’s getting into the vibe.”

Their teasing set me slightly at ease, less on my guard. And it did feel good to strip down, if initially uncomfortable to be so exposed in the elements. I realized it was the first time I’d been naked outside -- ever — the feel of it both liberating and unfamiliar.

“You’ve got a nice little bod, Kev,” Greg said admiringly. “You should show it off more.”

“Me?” I asked, surprised at the compliment.

I glanced down at myself, my self-consciousness giving way to pride.

I guess they were right. It was pretty nice.

Smooth and pale, my biceps small but pronounced, I had the slightest hint of a six-pack and the beginnings of a chest. I just didn’t look like guys like them, the ones who had fully come into their manhood, bodies developed with all of their chest hair and pit hair and musculature. I was still too young. But you could see the suggestion of what was to come, of the man I was growing up to be. I just needed a little more time.

“Yeah,” Nate echoed, “bet the girls will be all over you soon.”

There it was again, the nods towards their straight lives. I knew that Nate had had girlfriends, and I bet Greg did too, but given the way he’d been fooling around with me, he couldn’t be entirely straight, right? All of it felt murky, uncertain, like I wasn’t sure of the rules, if there were any at all.

But I did know this. It wasn’t the girls that I wanted to be all over me. It was them.

I snapped back to reality.

“I could work out a bit more,” I told them. “You know, get bigger like you two.”

Greg swiveled on the chair, resting his feet on the ground so he was facing me, dick nestled beautifully between his legs under the big bush of his pubes. “But then,” he said, stopping to lift his beer from the ground and swig from the can, “you wouldn’t be little guy anymore.” He topped it all off with a wink.

Nate looked up from his chair.

“That ass,” he said, admiringly, nodding in my direction. “It’s pretty big for a guy your size.”

I blushed again — he was right, it was pretty big. Whereas the rest of me was leaned out and finding its form, there my baby fat still remained, two big pillow-y mounds of flesh that seemed an obstruction in any pants or shorts I wore.

I thought back to yesterday, the way Greg had palmed it in the kitchen when no one else was looking.

“C’mon, Cuz,” Nate goaded, “let’s see it.”

Bashful, I slowly turned around, giving them a full view.

“Damn,” Greg echoed, whistling a bit, lifting a pipe of weed and lighting it before him, taking in a long drag and then exhaling it into the ether. “That is really nice.”

And then, before I could turn back, he rose, crouching below me and palming each cheek, lightly feeling their heft. He hadn’t really touched me before—not unless you count him gripping the back of my head as I sucked him off, or the foot he’d put on my sloppy, pre-cummy dick as I rubbed it against the floor. The sensation was electric, the feel of his hands on me sending a jolt through my legs and straight to my dick.

And then, without warning, he pushed them apart, spreading them so I was fully exposed to both of them, my ass on full display.

“With a nice, tight little hole,” Greg said quietly.

No one had ever looked at that part of me before, least of all admired it, and I was surprised by his daring, by the fact that he’d been interested at all.

I could remember going into my parents’ bedroom a few years back when they weren’t home, finding my way to the full-length mirror in my mother’s closet and bending over, turning at an angle to see what it looked like — small, pink, hairless, the folds around it subtle but still pronounced. I’d liked the way Nate had grazed against it the day before, when he’d seemingly overshot my balls as I was about to bust, but I couldn’t imagine what it would be like for someone to be inside it.

Sure, I knew guys got fucked, but that had always felt like a world apart.

“You like the way it looks?” I asked, my voice rising in doubt.

“Yeah, dude. It’s fucking beautiful,” he replied.

I beamed at the sentiment. Here was Greg, a guy who seemed by all accounts straight and incredibly hot, finding this hidden, shameful part of me beautiful. Desirable even.

“Yeah, it really is,” said Nate, his voice echoing in agreement.

I felt as he rearranged one of his palms to free his thumb, lightly grazing it with the tip. I closed my eyes — how nice it felt, being lightly caressed in that place, long ignored. I could feel even more movement in my dick, the length of it going from semi-erect to fully hard.

I swallowed, relishing the feeling of being fully on display

And then I felt Greg release his hands, letting the cheeks back together before I turned around, unwittingly exposing my boner to both of them.

Greg laughed. “I think he liked it.”

Nate chuckled to himself. “Yeah, looks like he did.”

I stood there, blushing, but before I could think recede into awkwardness, Greg broke the silence.

“You wanna see mine?”

My face turned in mild shock at the offer. I’d been admiring his ass since I’d first met him yesterday. Its thickness, the way it strained against every pair of shorts. While mine was certainly large, his was so much bigger, proportionate with his overall size. He had at least four inches on me and two on Nate. His presence was mammoth.

And something about seeing another guy’s hole—particularly his hole—felt entirely unexpected.

“Sure,” I replied, trying to sound casual, as if there was anything casual about the hard-on raging between my legs or the offer of him spreading his ass cheeks apart.

And so he sat back on the lounge chair, reclining fully flat along it, baseball hat still pulled down over his forehead, and took his legs into his hands, pulling them up over his head so that they straddled his sides, revealing the bud that had been hiding between two big mounds of ass that I couldn’t stop thinking about.

I moved myself around the chair, positioning myself at the end to take in the full view.

Whereas my hole was small, pink—mere punctuation—his was wider, bigger, dark like his tanned skin. It was the hole of a man, as big and imposing as his cock.

Nate watched as I took in the view, eyeing my hard, his own dick started to enlarge, slowly lifting up from his balls and pointing outward.

“Damn,” I said, taking in this mass of man fully on display before me.

“You like?” asked Greg, grinning.

I couldn’t get over his confidence, how he showed himself off like it was nothing.

“Yeah.” I nodded, crouching down so I could see it even more closely.

I noticed that Greg’s own cock was slowly enlarging too, the three of us now sporting boners as we had been the night before, this time in the bright light of day, nowhere to hide.

“Why don’t you taste it?” He nodded down past his now fully hard cock and the hole that puckered before me.

Sucking dick was one thing, but sucking on his hole? That was something I’d never done before, even if I’d imagined it. But I’d liked the way it felt to take his dick inside me, the way it felt to suck Nate off. Worshipping these guys who I admired so much—it had become a privilege, as if, in some way, by consuming them I was absorbing some of their masculinity into myself, becoming more of a man in the process.

“Can I?” I still wasn’t entirely certain this was real, the possibility that he might turn around and call me a faggot for even considering it looming in the back of my mind.

“Seems like you want to,” he replied, eyeing my rock-hard cock from beneath the brim of his hat.

And so I knelt further down in front of him, placing my face just in front of his hole, his balls still hanging beautifully just above it.

It was what I wanted, even if I couldn’t have articulated it until now. I wanted to eat this forbidden fruit, to find out what this part of a man tasted like. It seemed like the dirtiest thing I could imagine—eating ass—and therefore exactly the thing I wanted to do.

And so I moved myself closer, parting my lips and extending my tongue so that it just lightly grazed the outside of his opening, feeling the ridge of it lightly in exploration.

Greg let out a long breath, responding to the sensation.

I took my tongue back into my mouth, savoring it. It tasted new, like his pits or Nate’s underwear, only better — salty, but also sweet, a mix of sweat and a deep funk from inside him. And that’s when I realized it.

I liked the unabashed scent of an unclean man.

So I went back in for more, working my way in circles and then meeting his tight little center, the face of it ever so slightly opening as I watched his balls and cock clench up above.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Get in there.”

And so I pressed myself fully onto him, lightly sucking on the entire thing and plunging my tongue in more boldly.

Greg moaned more deeply from above, and I looked past his pulsing cock and balls to his face, watching as I worked him with my lips and tongue, spit gathering around it until it was swollen, sloppy.

I glanced over at Nate, his restraint once again having fallen away to his desires, now fully jerking his dick in long, light strokes, the sinew of his right bicep particularly pronounced. He watched the two of us entwined, just as he had last night, my mouth pressing deeper and deeper into Greg’s ass, my tongue pushing past that initial opening and finding the further reaches of him.

“How’s that feel?” Nate asked curiously, jerking himself, running his hand all the way from base to head. His voice betrayed his own uncertainty, as if this was something, unlike last night, that he hadn’t experienced for himself.

“Fuckkkkk,” Greg replied, his eyes still closed, lifting his hips up and down to help me out. “Feels fucking amazing.”

I started jerking my own dick, needing some release. Asses until now had been a one-way street, an exit not an entrance, and I wasn’t just touching it, I was making love to it, feeding on it the way I’d fed on his dick, sucking on his most beautiful void instead of the girth of his manhood.

“Kev’s got an amazing mouth,” Greg complimented, the sentiment inspiring a deeper fervor. I pressed even more fully into him.

My dick tightened, overcome at the way they were both offering me up to each other, using me, but a servant to their desires. But instead of feeling embarrassed or taken advantage of, I liked it. No, I loved it. It only made me want them more. This is where I belonged—on my knees, prostrate before these guys that appeared like gods, merely a tool for their own pleasure.

“You want some of this?” Greg asked Nate, glancing up at him.

I pulled away, looking over for his reaction.

“Fuck yeah,” he replied, looking me straight in the eye.

I waited for him to do the same as Greg, reclining back in his chair and exposing himself, but instead, he did something surprising. He turned around, arranging himself on the chair on all fours, spreading his ass wide behind him.

The view was breathtaking. I’d never seen a guy position himself like that, the effect rendering him somehow vulnerable, an object for the taking. It was one thing for Greg to lift his legs over his head, already a leap, but there was Cuz, bent over, doggy-style.

Like a girl.

“Go ahead,” Greg encouraged me, sitting up and lightly patting me on the cheek. “Be a good boy and help out your cousin.”

Continued from Chapters One, Two and Three posted here.

--

“Then be my guest,” Greg teased, removing his hand.

I stared back at him, baited.

He was daring me.

Was I brave enough to do it?

I slowly raised my hand, extending it towards him, lightly placing it around the heavy mass of his cock.

It felt warm at first touch, its heat just like Nate’s, but girthier, filling my hand entirely, its size dwarfing my fist. Greg’s entire body gave in at the feel of me on him, my grip on his manhood seeming to relax him, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back.

I looked over as Nate ran his own hand slowly up and down his own dick, already slicked with spit, just the way he’d shown me.

He liked it, I realized.

Watching us together.

Greg opened his eyes again, staring directly at me. “Why don’t you jerk it a little bit? I think your cousin showed you how.”

I paused, gathering the courage to apply the skills I’d learned the day before. And then, throwing any restraint to the wind, I started stroking Greg’s cock, feeling from the shaft up to the top of his head and then back down, letting it tighten with each motion.

My own cock pulsed as I jerked his, something about the way I was servicing this guy, someone who I never thought would be interested in me, only firing me up more.

“How’s that feel?” Nate asked as he watched, unable to look away.

“Feels fucking nice, man,” Greg replied. “You’ve taught little guy well.”

Fuck he looked good, his body a milky tan, his pecs rounded, like orbs, nipples tightened from nubs into points, the washboard of his abs tapering to his hips and the dick I held in my hand.

He noticed me eyeing his body. “You can feel me if you want,” he whispered.

“Really?” I asked, the idea of touching that form, as if carved from stone, beyond my comprehension.

“Sure,” he replied. “What’s the point of looking like this if not to be appreciated?”

He was a cocky fuck, wasn’t he? But somehow it worked for him, his confidence attractive, his deep knowledge of his beauty affirmed by the fact that he was indeed otherworldly, more beautiful than I could have imagined if I’d dreamed him up myself.

I removed my hand from his dick and placed both of them at the top of his chest, feeling the weight of each pec. Greg let out a moan as I began to massage them, pressing my thumbs along the face until they ran down to his nipples, lightly squeezing them between my fingers.

His dick pulsed up at my touch involuntarily,

“Connected straight to my dick,” he murmured, his dick jumping again while I repeated the motion, this time lingering around the very tips of his nipples, flicking them slightly.

And then I ran my hands down to his abs, hungrily running my fingers along them, every caress just grazing the top of his dick.

Greg raised his arms up, placing his hands behind his head, biceps clenching into mounds, his pits exposed, revealing the light tufts of brown hair that lay beneath.

He was showing off.

“You like these?” Greg asked, flicking his eyes towards them.

I blushed. “Maybe.”

It had only been that last summer that I’d started noticing them, guy’s pits, an erogenous zone previously unfamiliar to me. What had once been a mere body part had evolved into something of an obsession, the way men had hair in them a novelty. It fascinated me that something so innocuous, so dirty, could be so hot.

“You wanna smell ‘em?” Greg asked, his words reading my mind.

My eyes widened, the offer taking me by surprise.

He could read my fear.

“Go on,” he replied, nodding his head towards his left one.

And so I moved in closer to him, placing my face just in front of it, taking in the deep scent. He’d clearly skipped deodorant, instead letting his musk build up all day so that he was totally pure — nothing other than himself. It might have been repellent had it not been so sexy, so honest — his fragrance ripe, rich. Intoxicating.

“Go on,” he repeated, taking his hand and pushing my face closer, forcing it deep into the light tufts of hair so it was buried in him. “Get in there.”

I inhaled and exhaled, taking in deep breaths, letting it all feed more of my desire for him, as if he was nourishing me with the most base part of masculinity, all in its most unvarnished form. I relished it, every bit of it, wanting to live there, happily, forever.

And I released my tongue onto him, running it all along its exposed face, lapping my way deeper and deeper to lick up all the salt and sweat, sucking on the tufts of hair that gathered between my lips.

He shook at the sensation, almost overcome. Instead of pushing me away, he pulled me closer, submerging me ever farther into him until I was suffocated, his bicep in a death grip behind my head.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice gentle despite the aggression, “suck on my pits.”

I gave in, becoming reckless, ragged, slurping up as much of him as I could. Greg was hardly put off by my intensity. Quite the opposite. He seemed enthralled by it. It was feeding him, too.

Finally, I pulled away, breathless, gasping, wiping my mouth clean, his pit soaked in my spit.

“Fuck,” Greg muttered. “This boy’s hungry.” He glanced down at his monster dick, a pool of pre-cum having gathered at the tip, my efforts only pushing him further. “Why don’t you get back to this cock?” he suggested, nodding down towards the throbbing mass between his legs. “I’ve been needing to get off all day.”

“Me too,” I heard Nate say from the bed next to us, his voice cutting the moment.

I’d almost forgotten he was there, cock still in his hand, and I grew even more aroused remembering I had an audience, a paramour whose gaze was still laser focused on me, before he continued: “Ever since we beat off this morning.”

So that’s what they’d done earlier that day, when they’d disappeared to the cliffs, leaving me behind.

My mind raced, imagining the two of them together — their naked bodies crouched in the dead heat of the woods, cocks in their hands, working each other together.

Had they helped each other out?

Maybe sucked each other a little bit?

A whole new world was opening up to me, dark and hungry. All these desires, they weren't just my own. This was just what guys did together, the most normal thing in the world, but in secret, the mere fact of it hiding in plain sight, if only you knew to look.

Greg’s voice broke me out of my head. “You ever sucked a dick before?”

I looked up at him, my face turning, blushing yet again.

“No,” I said quietly, shaking my head, not sure if I’d be more embarrassed if I hadn’t or had. A shiver ran down my spine.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” he suggested, lowering a hand to the base of his cock, pointing it towards me as invitation.

“Yeah?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I thought back to the day before, the way my Nate had guided my hand, teaching me how to jerk him, how just that touch had awakened something primal in me. And how much I had wanted to push it further, to take him in my mouth and consume him, if only I had the chance.

Now, the moment had arrived, Greg’s cock on offer before me, an even more impressive, if intimidating, piece. A wave of apprehension washed over me, my inexperience breeding uncertainty, until Nate spoke again.

“Try it, Cuz,” Nate said, his voice breaking through the haze. “You’re a natural.”

His words sent a jolt straight to my cock. I looked at Nate’s cock in his hand, tight and proportioned, a perfect tool. And then back at Greg’s, a monster, thick and overwhelming. It was one thing to stroke it, but taking it in my mouth? That was something else.

“Yeah,” Greg encouraged, his voice low and hungry. “Help me out. You’ve got the perfect little mouth.”

And with that, I licked my lips, taking him in my left hand, before lowering my face until it was right in front of me. I wanted it inside me, all of it. I was starving for it.

And so I opened my mouth, finally indulging — first taking in the head, feeling it stretch my lips as it made its way just inside, filling my cheeks, its heft resting on my tongue. I sucked lightly, feeling as it pulsed in my mouth, and then began curling my tongue along the underside, massaging against the V of skin that met the slit at the top.

“Fuck” Greg moaned, his cock tightening even more, growing bigger within me.

From the bed beyond, Nate beat his cock faster, entranced by the sight of me taking on Greg’s monster.

I pushed on, the mushroom head pressing past my lips, the shaft running along my tongue, the tip just grazing the back of my throat. It was a lot to take, the entirety of my mouth straining, jaw stretched almost to capacity.

I felt the drip of pre-cum gathering within me, the beginnings of his seed that pumped directly down the back of my throat, a first taste of what was to come.

And then Greg placed a hand on the back of my head, taking control, using his force to press me to full submission.

“That’s it,” he growled, “just let it all the way in.”

I looked up at him, my mouth full of his cock, his eyes locked on mine. Despite being entirely full, I’d only made it halfway down his piece, the rest of it still exposed below. Spit dripped down either side. The sheer width of it was already too much.

But then he reached his other hand down, resting it just below my chin and rubbing along my throat, the effort relaxing me enough that I further released, creating just enough room for him to thrust in an inch more, the head nestling its way to the furthest reach of my throat. I froze, afraid I might choke, teetering on the edge of my resolve, but instead I held back, clamping down harder on Greg’s dick and savoring it, holding it there, my eyes just beginning to tear.

And then, when I couldn’t take it any longer, I released him from my insides, gasping, heaving, letting his cock stand before me, slopped in his juices and mine, the weight of my achievement palpable.

“How’d that feel, dude?” Nate asked, his voice tight, cock so hard between his legs it seemed on the verge of busting.

“Fucking amazing,” Greg remarked, impressed. “You were right — he’s a natural cocksucker.”

I glanced over at Nate, a note of jealousy on his face at the way I’d worshipped this cock — his friend’s cock — and not his own, my face betraying the slightest grin in pride.

And then I was back on Greg, working him up and down with my mouth in the way Nate had shown me with my hands — just the right amount of tension on the shaft as I worked my way down, teasing the head with my tongue and lips when I came back up, my hand working alongside them all as a compliment.

Greg’s face tightened as I started slurping him deeper and faster, the vein running down the center of his cock pressing against my lower lip.

And then he placed both hands behind my head, holding it in place and starting to fuck my face, thrusting in and out of me, using my mouth like it was just any hole.

It might have felt aggressive—being used this way—but instead it felt like a reward, like a gift—the gift of being so filled up. I could feel the spit running past my lips, getting even sloppier, making a mess down to his balls.

I was ravenous for him, and so in turn, he was doing me a favor.

He was feeding me.

He eyed my cock, unattended, dripping between my legs. “Jerk yourself,” Greg suggested, his voice a low growl.

As he railed my throat, I took a hand off his balls and placed it on my own cock, beginning to jerk it in sweet relief.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Nate as he stood up, his body now between the beds, beating off as he watched me get pounded out by his best friend.

Greg looked up, pulled out of his reverie, to watch Nate watching us. I pulled back, eyes darting from one to the other, each of them hard and sweaty, and then down at my own dick, pooling pre-cum onto my thigh.

“How about you give Nate a try?” Greg murmured.

Nate stared at me hungrily, cock pulsing in his hand. A further invitation.

And so I rose from Greg’s bed, making my way onto the ground and kneeling prostrate before the guy who had shown me how to jerk him off the day before.

My cousin, the teacher.

I stared up at the display — his body yoked and taut, a thin film of perspiration covering his chest and stomach, his expression having turned from the sullen, angry boy I’d seen earlier in the day back to the softness I’d come to know only in secret, his desire once again bubbling to the surface.

His cock stood out in front of him, just inches from my face, and before I could take him inside me, he lowered his hand and ran his thumb across the head of his cock, slicking it with his pre-cum, before pressing it to my lips, mixing with the trail of spit and his own friend’s seed that remained.

I released my tongue to meet it, parting my lips and lapping it up.

“How’s it taste?” he asked.

“Fucking amazing,” I replied.

And then I raised my hand to his dick, guiding it inside me, indulging in more.

His dick entered me easily, more easily than Greg’s bruiser, and I marveled at the way I was able to take its entirety inside me, its full length finding its way to the back of my throat.

“Fuck,” Greg exclaimed, watching my dexterity. “Full deep throat.”

I pulled my head off of my cousin’s dick, smiling. I was pretty good at this. And then I continued working him, my mouth sliding up and down, the tufts of his pubes tickling the tip of my nose each time.

Greg rose from the bed, joining him, so that the two of them stood side by side above me.

I hung back, taking in the beautiful sight from above — two sweaty, horny frat guys, both their cocks an invitation, offerings to be devoured, Greg statuesque and hovering just above Nate’s more compact frame.

I took Nate’s in one hand, still slick with spit, jerking it while I took Greg’s back in my mouth, sucking and slurping with everything I had, and then alternated — jerking Greg’s piece with my fist while I took Nate’s back into my throat, switching from side to side greedily.

"Fuck he loves cock," Nate muttered, marveling, Greg grinning in agreement, the two of them entranced, eyes locked on me, as I feverishly worked them with all I had.

And then Greg wrapped an arm around Nate’s shoulder, the gesture so easy — fraternal — like the scene before them was the most natural in the world.

This was just what guys do.

My cock hung low, still hard between my legs, my knees spread so wide that it just grazed the slick of the hardwood floor, the light pressure pumping the juice out of me. And then, without warning, Greg took his bare foot and lightly pressed it against the top of it, the increased pressure sending me into overwhelm. And so I pumped my cock back and forth, fucking between the smooth of the floor and the ball of his foot, the sensation only beginning to release some tension.

“You wanna give this cocksucker his reward?” Greg asked Nate, their cocks at their most engorged, nearing completion. Nate met his gaze and nodded in agreement.

And so I pulled away, watching as they began to stroke themselves, chests heaving and muscles clenching, their breath growing deeper, asses tightening behind them as they grew closer to orgasm, the storm building.

And then, finally, they began to bust.

It was Greg who released first, his right pec tightening against the strain of his arm, face contorting as a cascade of come shot out of that massive cock. I opened my mouth out of impulse, letting the first few spurts hit me right on the tongue, the first taste a beautiful surprise. I’d smelled cum before, on Nate’s briefs and in hints of pre-cum, but I’d never tasted it. And now, here it was, the full experience—salty and sweet and savory, all at the same time.

Greg kept thrusting, his hand fucking the rest of the load out as I put my mouth back on his cock, sucking the rest of it out of him, the gesture causing his body to quiver. His movement slowed, his palm thrusting the remains of his load into me, my tongue receiving every last bit of it as it left his body, the remnants running down my chin and onto my chest,

And then I heard Nate call out from above, his legs shaking beneath him. It was his turn.

I pulled myself away just as Nate’s dick exploded from the other side, the second load hitting me full on, my mouth opening just in time to receive him too. I knelt there, like a dog, tongue wagging, letting him paint my face, taking breaks to swallow as much as I could before lowering my mouth onto him as well, letting the head of his cock pulse out the remainder of his load down my throat and into my waiting stomach.

I was covered with come, everything that hadn’t been savored coating my chest and stomach, my body soaked. I luxuriated in the feeling, the unapologetic mess, before slowly letting Nate’s cock leave my lips, hanging, spent, before him.

Nate let out a long exhale, his body finally still.

“Jesus,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Greg pounded Nate’s chest with his fist, impressed, and then turned his gaze to me, a sweaty, cummy wreck below them.

“Okay, come monster, it’s your turn," Greg said, not leaving me out. “How do you want to cum?”

I looked up, his dick still half hard and slicked in my spit, and without saying a word, took it back inside me, holding it between my lips, running my tongue around it while I started jerking myself towards a finish.

"Fuck yeah," Greg said, surprised. “I wanna see you come on this dick."

I whimpered into him, choking on his girth in pure id, jerking myself faster and faster as I clamped down on his cock.

He patted the side of my face lightly. “C’mon, you little cocksucker,” Greg goaded, baiting me. “Show us that load."

And with that, Nate got down on his knees, taking his hand and placing it just beneath me, reaching past my cock to my nuts and running his fingers along them, front to back, back to front, ever so slightly grazing my hole.

I moaned ever deeper, the combination of all the sensations -- my hand on my cock, Nate’s tickling of my sack, and Greg’s thick cock in my mouth — sending me into overdrive.

My body shook, knees straining against the floor.

"That's it," Nate whispered, my body reaching its limit, “just let it go.”

And then I did, the guttural boom of my moan muffled by a mouth full of Greg as I released ream after ream onto the floor and Nate’s forearm, still strategically placed between my legs, teasing me incessantly until I was done.

I could hardly believe the mess in front of me, any thought that I’d ever run out of the stuff dissipating at the sheer volume of the pool on the hardwood floor. It was even bigger than the first time.

I released Greg's cock from my mouth, letting it fall between his legs, its mass only beginning to return to its relaxed size.

"Fuck little guy," he said. "How long you been saving up that nut?"

I blushed, embarrassed by how much I’d let myself go. “All day.”

Nate grabbed his soccer jersey and handed it to me, letting me use it to wipe off my cock and the cum that covered my shoulders, chest, and stomach.

“Told you he could hang,” Nate told Greg, sitting back on his bed and reclining against the pillows, his arms relaxed behind his head.

“Gonna be a fun weekend, boys,” Greg called out, assuming the same position on the bed opposite.

“Weekend?” I asked, finally standing up from the floor, my knees sore from exertion.

“The parents leave tomorrow morning,” Nate reminded me. “Gonna have the place to ourselves.”

My eyes widened — I’d forgotten. Another 24 hours alone with these guys. I could only imagine what would happen next.

“You’re with the big boys now,” Greg called out, reaching over to ruffle my hair and give me a light pat on the cheek. “Get ready.”

Continued from Chapters One and Two, posted earlier...

--

Nate and I went about the rest of the day as if nothing had happened. He returned to work after our session in his bedroom, and that evening we all had dinner quietly together, a sort of normalcy setting back in.

“How’d you spend the day, Kev?” Uncle Jack asked.

I glanced at Nate, who hardly met my eyes, instead reaching for a roll from the bread basket.

“Just read for a while,” I told him, “caught up on summer school work.”

“We’ll do that kayak trip tomorrow,” he promised. “I haven’t forgotten.” He put his napkin on the table, his plate clean. “After all, what’s the point of being up here all cooped up inside?”

I could hardly think of anything better, I realized, than being stuck inside with Nate.

Welcome to Holden, he’d said.

I wanted to know what that meant. What more could happen after a show like that?

In bed that night, I was restless, hardly able to sleep, my hard-on relentless. I jerked off again, just to check that I really knew how. But the second I finished, I only became hard again, the desire in me hardly receding. Instead, it seemed to do the opposite, recharging.

How much cum did I have in me, I wondered?

I imagined it as a finite resource, that if I kept going, I’d somehow, inevitably, run out.

But that hardly seemed to be the case.

I fell asleep with my dick in my hand, dried cum around the tip of my cock, my body finally spent, even if my libido was not.

I awoke the next morning to the sounds of car doors slamming, peering out the window to see Nate getting out of his truck with someone new, a lumbering figure, his head downward cast in shadow.

I’m almost forgotten it was Wednesday, the day his friend was set to arrive.

Greg.

Pulling myself together and throwing some water on my face, I padded my way downstairs to find them all in the kitchen, a new energy already palpable in the house.

Beside Nate was a hunk of a man, his figure imposing, catching me off guard. Whereas Nate was lean muscle, a kind of 90s Ryan Phillipe, Greg was big, far bigger than Nate. He had a solid two inches on him, hovering around 6’3, his body that kind of mass that always intimidated me, muscles on his body seemingly pumped up, inflated, a thin layer of flesh coating the sinew below in the way I imagined would be pillow-y soft to my touch.

This was as best as I could surmise from what was suggested through his t-shirt, its hem tucked neatly into a pair of elasticated shorts. His tan was even deeper than Nate’s. I wondered what his background was. Italian? Greek?

I looked up bashfully at him, trying to conceal how uncomfortably hot he made me.

“Ah, you’re up!” my Aunt said brightly. “Kevin, this is Greg. He’ll be with us for a few days from Westbrook.”

“Kevin, my man,” Greg intoned, his voice deep. He leaned in to shake my hand, his grip firm, strong. “Your cousin’s told me all about you.”

He smiled widely, his expression almost knowing, or perhaps that was just my imagination.

What exactly had Nate said?

I eyed him, the sunglasses he’d arranged backwards on his head so they rested just behind his ears, the curls of his hair gathering around them, almost Romanesque.

“I hope only good things,” I replied tentatively, trying to play ball.

“Only the best,” he assured me, hands on his hips, charm effortless, sending a wink my way.

His presence was disarming and uncomfortable. I immediately resented it for being an obstacle to this newfound exploration I’d found with Nate. And the way that he treated me, too—so overly familiar.

My Aunt set out eggs and bacon for breakfast, and we busied ourselves around the kitchen, making ourselves plates. As I stood there, waiting for my turn, I felt Greg come up behind me, using one hand to reach for a glass in the cabinet, the other giving a light tap on my ass.

“Traffic jam,” he muttered softly in my ear, letting his touch linger, the gesture sending a current of electricity through my body, every fiber standing on end. I felt his body lumbering behind me, the heat of him uncomfortably close, before he pulled away to the spread before us, assembling his meal.

I glanced at him, trying to read his face for some note of recognition of what he’d just done, but instead I got nothing. It was as if it had never happened.

Merely my imagination.

“The place is looking great, Mr. M,” Greg told my Uncle as he piled a large helping of eggs onto his plate. “You’ve fixed it up real nice.”

My Uncle beamed back. “Nate’s been a big help this summer. All those odd jobs have paid off. He almost knows more than me now.”

We sat down at the table to eat, my plate staying largely untouched, an uneasiness in my stomach staving off any appetite.

“I’m gonna take Greg out to the cliffs,” Nate shared as we dug into the spread, “show him around.”

“You should take Kevin with you,” my Aunt suggested cheerfully. “I’m sure he’d be up for a hike.”

But before I could protest, everything about this guy making me ill at ease, my cousin cut me off. “We’re gonna go just the two of us,” he replied, glancing at Greg. “Got some real catching up to do.”

I swallowed, confused. Even though I’d have opted out, something about the way Nate took away the option felt like a rejection. I thought we’d made some headway yesterday, him and I. But in the light of a new day, it was as if nothing had ever happened between us, his affect once again distant, impossible to read, none of it betraying the intimacy we’d shared.

“I’m sure we’ll get plenty of quality time the next few days,” Greg assured me, placing a hand on my shoulder, smoothing out the awkward silence that underscored my disappointment, his touch both electrifying and annoying at the same time.

I felt the unfamiliar pangs of desire and resentment, the two of them intermingling so strongly I could hardly tell one from the other.

“It’s all right,” my Uncle interjected, “Kev and I have some plans anyway. We never got to go out to the lake.”

And with that, we finished up breakfast, throwing our dishes in the sink, and then all heading out our separate ways, taking on the day.

Jack and I piled into the cab of his pick-up, driving out to the lake nearby and unloading the kayaks onto the manmade sandy beach at its shore, climbing in and sending them out in the water.

We rowed silently, the surface of the water remarkably still, interrupted only by the smooth strokes of each paddle.

“Nate’s a tough nut to crack,” Uncle Jack said as we rode towards the middle of the lake, mountains climbing up beyond us, punctuating the view. “I can hardly get anything out of him myself.”

I nodded, unsure of what more to say.

“I imagine you boys have more in common than you think,” he told me.

My ears perked up at the sentiment. Did he know more than he was letting on? Could he read me as well as Nate could? And what did he see in Nate?

It felt nice to be off on our own, Jack’s warmth a balm despite all of Nate’s confusing behavior. He was a great dad, the kind that really, truly cared. Despite his hulking figure, he was a softie, the kind of guy that wasn’t afraid of real, genuine affection. I wondered how Nate had become so closed off with a father like that, a guy who was secure enough to show that he had feelings, that he wasn’t just a stonewall. I imagined telling him about what we’d done, being held in his arms, so safe and protected, letting me know it would be all right.

But that was all just a fantasy.

We returned to the house, me showering off the day, thinking about what my Uncle had said. Maybe Nate would come back around. But this new guy, Greg, even if uncomfortably friendly, had certainly thrown a bit of a wrench in things. I disliked him, both for the way he’d interrupted what seemed like a whole new direction for us, and the way his presence was so destabilizing. Nate was intimidating and hot in a way that was still familiar — I’d known him all my life. There was a shorthand, even if I was figuring out who this new version was. But Greg was somehow otherworldly, the kind of beauty that was hard to stomach. I was almost afraid to look at him, my body reacting so viscerally.

Between him and Nate, my desire seemed impossible to contain.

At dinner, Greg dominated the conversation, engaging us all in the kind of banter I was always terrible at. I was fascinated by guys like him, the way he seemed to move through the world with an enviable ease. He had the self-assuredness of a golden boy, a sense of familiarity with people following him everywhere, as if no one had ever told him no.

They probably hadn’t, I thought to myself.

He knew he was attractive. More than attractive—hot. He could use it however he needed. The combination of raw, masculine beauty and boyish charisma was a potent combination.

“This was a fantastic meal, Mr. M,” Greg complimented, his charm even seeming to work on my Uncle. “You know your way around a kitchen.”

“We’ll see how you boys fare on our night away,” he replied. “Nate’s picked up a few things from me nd his Mom.”

Greg smiled back at him. “Don’t you worry about us,” he replied. “We’ll be just fine.” And then he glanced at me, giving me a small wink. “And we’ll even take care of Little Guy here.”

I blushed, bristling at the diminutive. I was already self-conscious about my size, particularly in relation to him and Nate, but something inside me fired more potent than anger. As much as I hated being called small, there was something about the way he teased me that felt like a compliment, as if being noticed by him was enough.

Whether I liked it or not, his charms worked on me too.

I stood up to collect some of the plates, a ritual I’d undertaken every night since arriving, earning my keep for being a guest in their home. Stacking them, I carried them into the kitchen and started rinsing them under the kitchen sink, letting the water wipe them clean.

Before I knew it, Nate was behind me with another set, the remaining three still back at the dining room table, deep in conversation.

“Sorry we bailed on you today,” Nate told me quietly, reaching for the almost-clean plates that I had placed on the counter and putting them in the dishwasher.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I get it. He’s your best friend.”

“We just needed some time to hang,” he replied. And then he came in close, his mouth beside my ear, voice lowered to just above a whisper. “Come on up at midnight.”

For a second, I thought I’d imagined it, or misheard him, doing a double take and almost dropping a dish in the basin. But then I caught his eye, meeting me in affirmation, before realizing it was real.

He stared back at me, daring me to obey.

I nodded at him, the gesture enough to end the dialogue, before he noisily returned to loading the plates into the machine, carefully placing each one in before calling out to the rest of them in the dining room.

“So what’s for dessert?”

—

11.57 pm.

I lay in bed, my palms sweating, waiting for the clock to turn, the hour nearing ever closer.

Your cousin’s told me all about you.

The words echoed in my head.

The breeze through the open window did little to cool my body, the summer air thick. My body strained against the layers of sheets, restless.

And hard.

I’d spent the last two hours after bedtime fantasizing about what this might mean.

I figured what had happened between us would have to stay a secret, but Greg’s behavior said otherwise, making it seem like he knew more than he was letting on.

I wasn’t quite sure what I was getting myself into. Greg seemed pretty straight, his affect the very definition of a bro, but then Nate had too, hardly giving off any vibe that he was into guys at all.

I’d felt for so long like the only gay person in the world. But now that facade was slowly crashing down, as if I had been living a lie my entire life, a truth that had been just in front of my eyes finally coming into focus.

My desire, it seemed, wasn’t mine alone.

The clock turned.

12:00 am.

Showtime.

Nervously, I got up from bed, making my way quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake my Aunt and Uncle. When I got to the end of the doorway, I opened it slowly, turning the handle just so and letting it close silently behind me.

I clenched my fists in anticipation as I made my first steps up the stairs, still wondering if somehow I was making a mistake. I knew Nate had asked for this, but part of me couldn’t believe it was happening, a doubt remaining, as if I was being pranked. I imagined how it could turn, that I’d show up and they’d call me a faggot, shaming me for even thinking that they’d want me at all.

But as I turned the corner on the landing, the room came into view, a dim light bathing the space and the scene set before me — Greg and Nate, both of them sitting upright, one in each of the twin beds, their shirts off and cocks out, hands already jerking themselves slowly.

I had been waiting, tossing and turning in anticipation downstairs. But they had been waiting for me, too.

In fact, they’d already started.

I stood motionless, watching them as their eyes met mine.

“Hey, Kev,” Nate said, his words cutting through the thick air of the room.

I took in a long breath, bathing in the sight of them, how hot they looked. Nate’s lean chest, exposed and lightly covered in sweat, cock pointed directly back at him, the lean six pack just above. And Greg, in his own bed, his body that much bigger mass — arms and perfectly formed pecs framing his torso, his cock even bigger than Nate’s.

Suddenly, I felt overdressed. I swallowed deeply, overwhelmed with desire. All the doubts of the last three hours had dissipated.

This was really happening.

“You made it,” Greg said, grinning at me. “Looks like you’ve been saving up a nut all day too.”

I glanced down at my crotch, only just noticing how obvious it was that I was hard, my cock straining against the mesh of my gym shorts, no underwear to hold me back from raging outwards.

I smiled, slightly bashful, before realizing I had nothing to be ashamed of. They were already one step ahead.

“Why don’t you show us what you’re working with?” Greg muttered, baiting me.

I was embarrassed, the overwhelm of their more developed forms making me self-conscious. My body was slight, not as impressive as theirs, my cock certainly not as large.

Nate sensed my hesitation.

“It’s cool, Kev,” he said, quietly, his voice softer than I ever recalled it being. “It’s just us guys.”

His encouragement set me temporarily at ease. It was enough for me.

Wordlessly, I slid off my t-shirt, lifting it over my head to reveal my lean torso, a pair of taut arms, and a small, tight chest. I stood there, sheepish, hesitant. And then, gathering courage, I reached for my waistband, pulling down my shorts and letting my cock free, its weight extending straight out towards them.

I felt a flash of vulnerability at being fully exposed, and then, immediately afterwards, a sense of freedom. Ease.

We were all on equal footing now. Just three guys, hanging naked together, cocks at full salute.

“Looking good, dude,” Greg said, eyes admiring my body. “Your cousin said you had a nice little cock.”

A nice little cock.

I blanched at the way he said it, so confidently, as if he’d done this so many times before.

That familiar mix of desire and resentment boiled up in my body—of being called small, itself a sort of slight—but also the way he seemed to admire me, that somehow those two things didn’t have to negate one another, but instead all a part of a package, my package, that my dick was just as nice as his was..

“Thanks,” I replied, shy, blushing a bit. “Not as big as yours.”

Nate smiled, looking over at Greg admiringly. “Nobody’s dick is as big as Greg’s.”

He was right. It was the biggest dick I’d seen in real life, certainly hard. Big like some of the guys in pictures I’d found online, men that were so much older than I was, their bodies and dicks defining what it was to be a man. I’d liked their way their cocks looked — full, hard, engorged — having a difficult time believing I’d ever see one or feel one in real life. That they’d only exist in fantasy.

Until yesterday. Until now.

“Come on, Kev,” Greg encouraged, gesturing for me to come closer. “Join us.”

I was shocked at his boldness.

“Yeah?” I asked, nervous, still lingering by the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, dude,” Greg replied. “It’s why we invited you up.”

I felt their eyes on me as I neared closer, making my way between them until I found myself standing between the two beds, each boy and each cock just within spitting distance.

I looked back and forth at them, unsure of where to go.

Until Greg patted a spot next to his legs, offering a “right here, bud,” indicating for me to sit.

I looked at Nate, his forehead giving an approving nod, and then did as I was told, resting my bare ass on the edge of the bed, my dick tight between my legs, my thighs brushing up against Greg’s just so.

I looked down at his cock, its sheer girth even more impressive up close.

“You wanna feel it?” he asked, eyes shooting down at the swollen piece he held in his hand.

I looked down at it and then back to meet his stare. “Yeah,” I replied softly.

I did. I wanted nothing more.

“Then be my guest,” Greg teased, removing his hand.

Continues from previous chapter posted...

--

“What are you doing?” Nate asked, unblinking.

Fuck. I’d been caught, my mind racing at what to do.

I let his briefs fall to the floor, quickly pulling up my shorts and underwear, trying and failing to conceal myself through the fabric.

I was too shocked to know what to say. I’d just checked that no one was home. He wasn’t meant to be back for hours.

“What are you doing in my room?” Nate asked again, even more annoyed, angry even.

“I didn’t think anyone was here—“ I protested, as if that was any excuse for trespassing in his space.

I descended into a panic, the embarrassment of having been found like this washing over me. Would he tell my Aunt and Uncle? Would he beat my ass?

“Alone in my room…” he said, not even responding to my poor excuse.

I stared back at him.

“Jerking off…”

The statement hung there, cutting through the thick air like a knife. I didn’t know exactly how to respond. I guess he was right. I’d hardly ever touched myself like that before, but I just knew it felt good — rubbing my dick against something so smooth and nice.

The pressure of my hand.

The promise of release.

“I’m sorry, I swear,” I started, “I know I shouldn’t be up here.” I searched his face, pleading. “Please don’t tell your Mom and Dad.”

He read the fear in my eyes, how scared I was, my glance searching past him to see if I could make a clean getaway.

And then his face changed, somehow responding to my panic.

“It’s cool, dude,” he replied, trying to calm me. He looked down, shaking his head. “Everybody jerks off.”

I softened a bit, comforted by the fact that he’d normalized whatever it was I was doing.

I guess everybody did, didn’t they?

He glanced down at the floor in front of me.

“You playing with my underwear?” he asked, eyeing it crumpled in a ball by my feet.

Jesus, he really wasn’t letting me off the hook.

I realized there was no choice but to be honest.

“Yes,” I replied, my embarrassment turning to deep shame. My face turned an even deeper shade of red, affirming his suspicion, the most mortifying admission of my life.

But to my surprise, he further softened, starting over towards me and seating himself alongside me, both of our legs hanging off the side of the bed.

He eyed the hard-on in my shorts, still visible despite my attempt at covering it up.

“Take it back out again.”

Shock came over my face. What?

I leaned up and glanced out the window.

“My parents are still gone,” he said, reading my mind. “They called me to ask for some information they needed for the dealership, it’s why I came home.”

I reclined again, still uncertain if I should obey. The idea of getting my dick out in front of him….maybe it was what I wanted, what I’d been imagining, but it seemed a bridge too far. I wasn’t sure I could trust him. Not yet.

Nate was the kind of guy who called shit “gay.” And this was some pretty gay shit right here.

But I felt like I didn’t have a choice.

Before I could reach down, his voice interjected.

“You wanna see mine?” he asked.

I nearly choked at the suggestion, him offering up the very thing I been fantasizing about when he walked in. My pulse was racing, in overdrive, the entire moment surreal.

This couldn’t be happening. And yet, it was.

But before I could respond, he reached for the waistband of his briefs and his shorts, pulling them both down in front of him in one quick motion.

I stared as he lay back down on the bed, presenting himself to me, half-naked body close enough to touch—dick splayed out, semi-hard and just shy of full mast, hanging over a pair of smooth balls that fell lazily between his legs. All of it was framed by the deep burnish of his tan and the line that cut across his waist, his tank top still resting just above.

“This what you wanted to see?”

He watched me watching him, my gaze focused solely on his dick as it became more and more engorged, raising itself up from the cradle of his balls until it was fully erect, the head finally pointing up towards him, grazing his belly button.

In all its glory, it was a full seven inches, bigger than mine, and bigger than any dick I’d seen before in real life.

He nodded down at my bulge, angrily pressing against the strain of my shorts.

“C’mon,” he encouraged, “pull it out. After all, you’re the perv that came into my room.”

I exhaled awkwardly at the joke. And after slight hesitation, I reached for my shorts, pulling them back down and letting my own already-hard dick free. I let it stand there, pointing up at me, the tip covered with pre-cum, shaft red from having been worked so hard before he arrived.

“Nice, dude,” he said admiringly as I showed it to him. “Your cock’s a lot like mine.”

My stomach lurched at the sentiment. I guess it was true. They were a similar shape, both of us cut, not like some of the guys I’d noticed in the gym locker room with the extra foreskin that hung down over the head.

He grinned. “You can tell we’re related.”

I blanched at the acknowledgement of our bloodline, its reality making this feel even more forbidden. It seems we had even more in common than I thought.

“I’ve been noticing you checking me out,” he told me.

My eyes widened at the accusation. So it had been obvious, despite my best attempts to keep it together.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he replied. “It’s kinda nice having someone eye you like that. Even if it’s not a girl.”

I let out an internal sigh of relief, feeling a bit safer in my desire for him. Maybe it was okay, after all. Not entirely misplaced.

I looked down at our dicks, both hard as we lay half-reclined on the bed.

“Why don’t you go back to what you were doing?” he started. “Before I came in.”

I looked back at him awkwardly. I hadn’t really known what I was doing. Just fumbling my way towards a first orgasm, I guessed, my inexperience palpable.

He read it instantly.

“Just learning how, huh?” There was suddenly a measure of care in his face—not pity, but something else—empathy—a sentiment I didn’t know he possessed.

“Yeah,” I replied quietly. Then, slightly more emboldened. “You jerk off a lot?”

He smirked at me. “Of course,” he replied. “Usually a few times a day.”

That was a lot. But I guess I was horny all the time, too. I just hadn’t ever known what to do. I’d probably jerk off a few times a day if I knew how.

“Why don’t I give you a few pointers?”

I blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty easy once you start exploring a bit. Or if someone shows you how.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing, seeing. His boldness in dropping his pants, showing me his dick, and offering to help me out. He’d hardly paid me any attention at all, practically ignoring me since I arrived. And now this?

I looked down at our bodies in parallel, half-naked, dicks hanging out.

“It felt good up against your underwear,” I said, the admission immediately making me blush.

But he hardly blinked. “Yeah, I bet.” And then I watched as he picked it up from the floor, taking the soft fabric in his hands and rubbing it along his dick. “Nice and smooth.”

He tossed it beside him.

“First rule of jerking off is—the wetter the better,” he said quietly. “Unless you’ve got something like those.”

He raised his hand to his mouth, spitting into it once, and then twice, before placing it to his dick, running his hand up and down the shaft and head. He did this a few more times, going so far as licking his palm, until it was fully slicked with spit.

He stroked it, so covered in his juice that it was glistening, sloppy.

“See how nice it is when your hand slides up and down?” I nodded back. “Give it a try.”

I took my fingers to my lips, too shy to spit, instead trying to get as much saliva into my hand with my tongue, and then returned my hand back down to my cock. It responded immediately to the sensation, more pre-cum gathering at the tip, repeating the gesture until it was just as wet as his, marveling at the ease of my hand grazing along it.

Much better than a pillow or a pair of briefs.

“How’s that feel?”

I let out a long exhale. “Good,” I told him, before elaborating. “Amazing.”

“I bet it does,” he replied. “Second rule is all about where you hold it.”

I watched as he started to stroke himself in earnest, his thumb wrapped around the face of his dick, by the head, the remaining four fingers just around the underside

“Like this,” he said, showing me as he made long strokes up and down the shaft. “And when you come back up to the top, squeeze it a little bit,” gesturing with his own hand by example.

I watched as his thumb and forefinger found each other each time they reached the top, as if enclosing around the head.

I followed suit, moaning at the sensation of gripping my cock in that way, the spit creating just enough lubrication to massage under the head just so every time my hand rose back up, it became more and more engorged.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “That’s nice.”

“You’re a natural,” he said admiringly, encouraging me on.

I watched as Nate then took his left hand, pulling ever so slightly down on his balls, forcing his cock to stand fully upright.

“You can try different strokes,” he said, taking his hand and adjusting his grip so he held himself from the other side, thumb running down the face towards his pubes and that perfect stomach, fingertips grazing the underside. “Feel it out to see what’s right.”

I followed suit, repositioning myself so the pinkie edge of my hand squeezed the top of my cock rather than my thumb and forefinger, like I was pushing out along the length of myself rather than pulling it up. Somehow, this felt different, the slight change of direction creating an entirely new sensation.

I moaned, watching as he alternated between the two, adjusting his grip to give himself new sensations each time, and doing the same myself.

I basked in the view, the thing I had imagined many times over the last few days but never thought I would witness firsthand—a stud like him, rubbing out his cock in front of me. And not only that—teaching me, egging me on.

It was almost too much to bear.

“You wanna feel it?” His words broke me out of my thoughts.

I went still, body clenching, shocked at the offer.

“Really?” I was on unsure footing.

“Sure.” He nodded down at his cock. “Help your cousin out.”

He removed his hand from the shaft, letting it stand fully upright—free—inviting me to take over.

It looked so perfect there, smooth and velvety. It was, in that moment, the perfect dick, the only dick in the world other than my own. And so I reached over, delicately placing my hand on him, feeling another guy for the first time.

I closed my eyes at the sensation—warm, alive, full of energy and desire, as if his entire life force lived in that thing.

I remained there, immobile, receiving him as he pulsed back against my light grip.

“Try out those strokes on me,” he murmured, pressing me on.

“Yeah?”

“Feels good when you do it yourself, but it’s even nicer to have someone do it for you.”

His words sent me into a tailspin. What had he tried before? Had he done with other girls before? Other guys?

Tentatively, I started moving my hand up and down it, replicating what he’d demonstrated, but on him. I was nervous, unsure of myself, grasping (literally). It was one thing to jerk your own cock, knowing what it felt like on the other end, but this felt foreign, new. I was desperate to get it right.

Any self-doubt was quickly cast aside by Nate’s reaction. The more I stroked my way up and down, paying careful attention to the head as he’d shown me, the more he closed his eyes, light moans coming out of his half-parted lips.

I leaned over to get a better handle on it, our faces now just a few inches away from each other, my own dick pulsing at how close he was and the feel of this previously forbidden part of him within my fist.

He leaned in closer, whispering. “You’re learning quick.”

And so I started working it at a faster clip, massaging in long, careful strokes from base to head, relishing every inch. I was doing more than just jerking him. I was worshipping him, channeling three days of pent-up sexual energy, of obsession, into one simple touch.

“Needs a little more spit,” he said quietly, between heavy breaths. But before I could pull away, he lifted my hand to his mouth and shot out a long ream, replacing it back on his dick and willing me to continue.

“That’s it,” he said, the extra lubrication returning me to form, allowing me to glide even faster up and down him.

I picked up speed, each thrust causing his body to contract, abs flexing as I pumped harder, faster.

I was new at this, but one thing was clear. He was close.

“Keep going,” he muttered, encouraging me on, my own dick tightening, leaking, without even the faintest touch of my own hand. “Show me how much you love this fucking dick.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks—so dirty, forceful, raw. I jerked faster, harder, tightening my hold around the head of his cock, squeezing it between my thumb and forefinger, willing him towards release.

And then, to my great surprise, he reached under my own outstretched arm and took my cock in his hand, gripping it with his own spitty palm.

I looked back, mesmerized, my dick jumping at the gesture. It was the first time anyone had ever felt it before, the sensation sending my body into overdrive, as I could come just from that initial touch.

And the sensation seemed to do the same for him, the feel of me sending him over the edge.

“I’m gonna…bust,” he muttered.

His grip tightened around my cock, a guttural moan leaving his mouth as a first wave of milky white cum shot out of him, landing directly onto the grey of his tank top, before the next and the next, each slashing his body with semen until it was darkened, totally soaked through.

I watched his face, contorted in pleasure, his front teeth biting his lower lip as the last remains flowed out of him, my hand eventually finding stillness.

He let out a deep exhale, releasing my dick from his hand, and then I did the same, letting it rest on top of him, a pool of cum filling his belly button.

I looked up at his face, eyes closed, taking in the afterglow of what had just happened.

“Fuck,” he said quietly. “I needed that.”

I wasn’t quite sure what that was. What had just happened?

“You know your way around a dick,” he said quietly, finally opening his eyes.

He reached down onto the floor and grabbed the discarded underwear I’d been playing with when he walked in, taking it and using it to wipe up the cum from his stomach and tank top.

I lay there, still hard, internalizing all that I’d accomplished.

Somehow, I’d just jerked off my cousin, the object of my desire, hardly even knowing how to do that for myself. I felt a heady brew of power, pride, and desire. I’d given him something I didn’t know I had in me, something I still hadn’t even given to myself. And I’d been good at it. Better than good at.

I’d been great.

More importantly, I liked it. As much as I wanted him, all of him, there was something about being in a position of submission, of providing for him, that fired something deep inside me.

He held the balled up briefs before me, the red-handed evidence that I was entirely infatuated with him.

“You like the way this smells?”

“I—” But before I could reply, he pressed it to my face, holding it against my nose and mouth, letting me take it all in.

I breathed deep, that same familiar smell of his sweat and piss, but now with the added layer of his mess.

He was right. I loved it.

“Go ahead,” he said, goading me. “Use it. Finish yourself off.”

And before I could think twice, I took my dick in my hand, dangerously close to a finish, and started jerking it, the smell of his underwear, now thick with the scent of his seed, filling my insides.

His eyes were locked on my face, watching me.

“You like the smell of my cock?”

I nodded, moaning into the soft folds of fabric.

He crouched down closer, pushing the ball deeper into my face, my mouth opening so I could touch it with my tongue, biting down on it, starting to stroke my dick at an even more feverish clip.

The sensation was intoxicating, and before I could give a warning, an eruption came from inside me, the sensation that I’d been searching for in vain for years finally found.

My dick tightened and shook in my palm, the head convulsing—fuck, that was new—as ream after ream of cum flew out of my cock and onto my tee shirt, breath heaving, muffled only by the mound of his underwear between my lips.

It was unlike anything I’d experienced before, the build that had become so familiar to me finally giving way to release. I felt lightheaded, woozy, seeing stars.

So this, this was what everyone had always talked about?

It was pretty fucking nice.

Nate pulled the briefs away, tossing them on the floor, giving me room to exhale unobstructed.

“Fuck, dude,” Nate muttered, startled by how forcefully I’d busted all over myself. “That’s a lot of cum.”

I looked down sheepishly, looking at the mess I’d made. I suppose it was a lot, even more than he’d managed to pump out himself.

“Not bad for a first time,” I said, proud of myself.

He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’ve never finished yourself off before. You’ve been pent up for, like, your entire life.”

I supposed he was right, but this was the beginning of something new.

A grin took over his face. “Told you this week would be epic.”

I watched as he stood up and slid off his tank top, soaked with his load, for the first time revealing his fully naked body to me. He was all lean muscle, sculpted, arms taut, a sinew running from bicep to forearms, strong from all the yard work he’d been doing all summer. His tan was set in relief by the lines I’d glimpsed when he first exposed his stomach, framing his dick and ass from his waist all the way down to his knees.

It was a sight to behold. I’d never seen someone more beautiful, more desirable.

“I didn’t know you’d do that,” I muttered. “Not just jerk off but…”

“…with another guy?” he asked.

He made his way to his dresser, pulling out a fresh pair of shorts and a tee. He moved with an ease that I admired, so comfortable and confident in his own skin.

Maybe a little too confident, his cockiness a clear front for something else.

“Everybody does it,” he said. “It’s just what guys do with each other.”

He said it with a self-assuredness that made me believe him, even if that had never been my experience. Was this normal?

I wasn’t sure, but here in this remote town far, far away, it was.

He pulled the t-shirt over his head and slipped into the shorts, his mouth curling up into a small grin.

“Welcome to Holden.”

Continued from earlier chapter...

--

They glanced at each other, some unspoken sentiment exchange between them, and just when I was about to try and change things up, to repay some of the favor, both of their mouths were back on me, this time meeting on either side of my cock, running in tandem up and down my shaft, lips just barely grazing as they jerked me off with their lips and tongues.

It was the most beautiful image I could imagine, each of them so generously working to worship my average, 18-year-old boy’s dick.

And then, just when I thought myself fully overcome, their mouths met at the head, tongues intermingling around it and one another, the two of them simultaneously kissing each other and sucking me off, the most beautifully choreographed dance of lips and tongues and dick.

As if sensing that I was edging to a finish, they pulled away, my dick pulsing before me just before the brink.

“C’mon,” Joe said, the two of them standing up. “Let’s go to the bed.”

They guided me across the room, seating me on the edge of the mattress before returning to their knees before me, expectant looks on their face.

“Can we see you?” Ryan asked.

I looked back, confused. “See me?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “All of you.”

I wasn’t totally sure what they meant, but I knew this—I trusted them, at least thus far. They’d shown me more generosity and kindness in the last thirty minutes than anyone had in my entire life.

That was enough for me. I nodded a yes.

Joe placed a hand on my chest, slowly pushing me back against the mattress. And then each of them took an ankle, gently and gingerly raising my legs in the air before spreading them apart.

Oh.

They wanted to see all of me. Now, I understood.

A wash of embarrassment fell upon me, both at my ignorance and also my inexperience. I’d never been so exposed before, so fully on display. I’d attempted to see what my ass looked like before in mirrors, always thinking it funny looking. And now here I was, presenting to them, like it was nothing.

Or more than nothing. Appealing. Desirable.

The two of them looked at each other and then at me hungrily.

“Beautiful,” Joe started, shaking his head almost in disbelief. It seemed to be their favorite word for me.

“I—“ I started.

They looked at me expectantly.

“No one’s ever seen me like this before,” I managed. My dick was tight across my stomach, pulsing out even more precum, the sensation of being spread apart at once uncomfortable and deeply sexy. To be admired in this way, in all my vulnerability—it was unlike anything I’d experienced before.

“We’re honored,” Ryan replied.

The sentiment was genuine, but still I was resistant, my hole clenching as if in defense. What did they want to do, exactly?”

“I’ve never—” I started. “I’m not ready—”

Joe placed a hand reassuringly on my stomach.

“Don’t worry, we won’t…”

Ryan nodded alongside him.

They understood without explanation. I wasn’t ready to get fucked.

“Do you trust us?” Ryan asked.

I did. Somehow I did. Despite barely knowing them, they’d inspired more trust in me in such a short time than I could have imagined.

I nodded back.

And with that, Ryan raised his thumb to his mouth, wetting it, and then placing it along my opening, his touch entirely gentle, like a graze.

I whimpered at that first sensation, my hole tightening further at his touch and then somehow doing the opposite—releasing, opening.

“That okay?” Joe asked.

I nodded back in the affirmative, unable to say anything more.

And then Ryan shifted, taking the backs of my thighs into his hands and pressing me further apart before lowering his mouth to my opening, lightly grazing it with his tongue as he had with his finger.

I let out a yelp, his tongue unlike anything I had experienced before.

The feel of something so warm and velvety against my hole, a place that I barely ever touched, let alone allowed anyone else near—it was like a million walls crumbling down. Being touched in that place caused the rest of my body to relax, as if a button that connected to the very deepest part within me.

Joe grinned from alongside him, watching as Ryan worked more deliberately and less gently, buried his face between the cheeks of my ass, tracing my rim with the most careful of precision, his lips clamped between my cheeks.

I bucked and moaned at the feel of a man’s mouth on my most intimate place, wondering how this was something I’d never experienced before.

And then he slowly pulled away before passing me to Joe, his mouth equally welcome, if a different experience. For while Ryan’s face was clean-shaven and smooth, Joe’s was thick with beard and mustache, both tickling the sensitive skin beneath my balls and between my legs as he dove in. I loved the sensation, the way he looked, a real man’s face eating me out, clamping down on my ass so hungrily.

Like he was eating a woman out, only it was me.

Something about that thought sent shockwaves through me, the way I’d somehow assumed a position so subversive at the hand of this experienced, older man.

And so they passed me back and forth as they had with my dick, each taking turns diving headfirst into my ass, their tongues lapping all along my slit, every effort only relaxing me further, until all the clenching in my initial anxiety had fallen away.

My dick lay tight against my stomach, barely needing any attention as they worked my hole in tandem. Somehow, I hardly needed to be touched, so aggressively was I riding near to a finish.

“I’m close,” I panted, the entire experience bordering on blue balls.

Ryan slowly lowered me back down onto the bed.

“How about we finish you off in style?” Joe said. He nodded to Ryan. “You wanna do the honors?”

“Gladly.”

“C’mere,” Joe said to me, rising from the floor and coming around behind me.

He lifted me off the bed, just enough to position himself behind me, to cradle me like a child. I lay back, the sensation of being so held causing my body to shudder. I could feel the warmth of his broad chest at my back, his pecs pressing against my shoulder blades, my head able to rest perfectly along his neck.

He ran his hands down each side of my chest, lightly grazing me with his fingertips. I shuddered. And then he lingered around my nipples, taking each one between thumb and forefinger and tweaking them, the sensation sending electricity through my body.

Ryan positioned himself between me, his finger finding my hole again, this time teasing it in little flicks. And then, without warning, he slid it just inside, pressing apart my walls with the greatest of care.

My body shook as he found his way within, Joe absorbing the aftershocks with his strong arms. Ryan remained there, allowing my body to adjust, hardly moving until I began to feel him tapping further inward and then, somehow, up.

There he made contact, to what I wasn’t entirely sure. If my opening had felt like an entryway to deeper feeling, this was ground zero—the mainframe. Tapping against that node was direct access to every nerve ending in my body, to the farthest reaches of my skin.

He took my dick in his hand, pulling it towards him and holding it there, letting it pulse as he pressed tighter against my insides.

I was so close to a finish that I was almost bursting, edged with almost no effort at all—entirely from within. But I hardly needed to articulate that fact. Ryan knew, his touches so gentle that he was playing me like an instrument.

I could feel Joe’s dick pressed hard against my back, only further inflaming me. I wanted it. I wanted to feel it. And so I lowered a hand back past his thigh, just grazing his ball sack.

“Can I?” I asked, half-wondering why I was asking permission for something that was so clearly on offer.

“Yes,” he said, voice a whisper, running his lips along my neck.

And so, empowered, I lowered my hand all the way behind me, taking his cock in my hand.

Joe let out a grunt, his body shaking from beneath.

It was massive in my palm, its girth unlike anything I had felt before. I’d touched a few friends’ dicks before, theirs not nearly as large in size, nor as impressive.

I was overcome —Joe’s massive form holding me securely, his dick warm and pulsing in my hand, Ryan’s finger deep inside me, my cock hard and dripping, only inches from his mouth.

And then Ryan lowered himself forward, starting to suck me, his free hand working along with his lips, tip to base, tip to base, his finger still tapping me from within.

It was all too much—or maybe just enough—the combination of so many sensations jettisoning me into orbit, my body quivering, shaking, barely able to contain it all.

Ryan began working me harder, faster, his mouth and fingers keeping time, Joe still tweaking each of my nipples, my face buried into his neck and his beard.

He held me tighter against him as I drew closer and closer, the orgasm building within me, cresting just within reach.

And just when I was about to finish, Joe took one hand and turned my face towards his, mouth meeting mine and engulfing me into the piece de resistance—the most beautiful, languorous kiss. Gently, deliberately, his tongue parted my lips, massaging mine with his, luxuriating within me as if greedy, hungry, the whiskers along his top lip welcomingly rough.

With that last gesture, I lost all control. My cock tightened harder than I thought imaginable, my balls clenched up with me, and my prostate rode hard against Ryan’s finger. And so I released, shooting ream after ream of come inside Ryan’s waiting mouth, his head finally still in receipt of each pulse, its confines warm and pillowy.

The perfect receptacle.

I bucked back and forth with each release, my body straining to stay still, Joe muffling my moans between his lips, gently holding my mouth in place.

I shook for what felt like a full minute, my body fully releasing everything that had pent up during the last half hour, the last 18 years, an ecstatic finish to what had been the most unexpected of afternoons.

It was the most intense orgasm of my very horny, if young, life.

Slowly, Joe released my mouth, my face turning to look down at Ryan, who finally lifted himself from my cock, his expression deeply pleased, my dick releasing down onto my stomach.

He nodded up at me.

“Easy,” he said as he began removing his finger from my hole, pulling it out inch by inch until it was finally free, that exit causing one final jump of my dick, one last pulse of cum spilling out the top and landing just below my belly button.

“Good boy,” Joe said, patting me lightly on the chest, ever encouraging.

It was a funny thing to say. I’d hardly done anything at all.

“Fuck,” Ryan said, shaking his head, admiring my spent body before him.

He raised himself, moving closer, his mouth just inches from mine. And then he, too, pulled me in for a kiss, his mouth opening to share what he’d received. I might have been grossed out by it, my own seed, but somehow I wasn’t. And the taste, it was far from what I might have expected. Quite the opposite. Welcome, delicious. Silky and warm.

He pulled away, nodding at me. “Thank you,” he said.

“I—” I stammered. “Thank you. That was…” I trailed off. I didn’t have words.

Joe ran his hands through my hair, tousling it within his fingers.

“Felt like you needed that,” he said.

I glanced between them, particularly at Ryan’s dick, still palpably hard between his legs with no release. “What about you guys? Aren’t you going to finish?” I asked.

They shook their heads.

“Not necessary,” Joe said. “That wasn’t the point.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, standing up, his body now back on full view. My dick was still hard, only further inspired by the sight of him again on display. It was the body I’d glimpsed through the window that afternoon, the body that had inspired it all. It was magnificent. “This was about you.”

I was confused. In all the sex I’d seen, it was a race to get off. Who could come first, and at whatever cost. Never before had I witnessed people taking their time or so fully enjoying getting someone else off.

“But—” I started to protest.

Joe interrupted. “It’s how Ryan and I like to do it. Focus on one person. Letting them fully receive, or at least let it be entirely about what they want.” I looked back, gobsmacked. “It’s like a gift. And we wanted to give it to you.”

I looked back at them. I’d never even considered such a thing, but I liked it. I had known they were good guys, but had no idea this would be possible. That they could be so fully and entirely generous.

“And, don’t worry,” Joe added, chuckling, “we always get our turn too.”

I rose up from the bed, suddenly unsteady on my feet. Between working outside all day and that insane finish, I was certainly depleted.

“How about some water?” Ryan asked, smiling, back into dad mode, seeing me wobble.

And so we made our way to the kitchen, still naked, Ryan going into the cabinet for a glass and pouring me some, Joe opening the back sliding door to let some air in.

I took a swig. They were each still hard—hell, somehow so was I, despite having busted the most epic nut of my life. I eyed them hungrily, taunted by the fact that they could still be so aroused and expect nothing in return. To see them fully nude, so relaxed and casual, their dicks fully erect, it was a whole new definition of hot.

“Should we swim?” Joe asked, nodding towards the pool. “That was the point, after all.”

“Sure,” I replied, still distracted by their bodies, by how easy and comfortable it felt to be with them.

I understood why what they’d given me was so potent, so enjoyable. Something was empowering about being so in control, in providing something so intimate and beautiful. I knew they wanted this to be about me, but I was overcome by a realization that I couldn’t let go of.

I wanted them to feel what I had felt, to repay the favor.

I wanted to give them a gift, too.

“C’mon,” Ryan said, interrupting my thoughts. “Let’s jump in. We don’t need our trunks.”

And so we headed out back to the pool, their large hedges affording us full privacy as we waded into the water, its cool temperature the perfect foil for the 95-degree Arizona summer heat.

I dunked beneath, the water soothing my disorientation, my body finally coming back to earth after what had transpired. The sun was setting, the desert light finally turning dim, an amber glow cast across the horizon.

I watched as Joe came up behind Ryan, wrapping him in an embrace just as he had me moments earlier. They looked beautiful together, particularly in a moment of such intimacy.

“I—” I started.

They stared back at me expectantly.

“I’d like to be here when…”

“When what?” Ryan asked.

“When you guys get your turn, too.”

They smiled, glancing at each other.

“I think that can be arranged,” Joe replied. “You’re a beautiful man, Cole. And I suppose we’ve got all week.”

He was right. It was Monday. My parents were gone until Sunday. Guess I wasn’t so alone after all. We did have all week.

And I was a man. Just barely.

The two of them smiled at me—warmly, generously.

“You’re sure you’re up for?” Ryan asked, trying to gauge my reaction.

I nodded back firmly.

If there was anything I was certain of, it was this.

It was on.

--

To be continued...

I stood in the backyard of my parents’ house, sweat dripping down my brow. 95 degrees, not even 2 pm yet, and I was already drenched.

The push mower was a bear, but it was a workout at least. Trimming the lawn in front of the house, all for a little measly cash? I might be embarrassed, but I was bored and desperate. After all, what else did I have to do?

We’d moved from Illinois to Tucson the year prior, my family and I, uprooting my entire life in the process. A new school for my senior year, and a whole new set of friends to make. It had been awkward and uncomfortable to say the least, trying to fit in with kids who had known each other practically since birth. By the time I graduated that next spring, I was still pretty much a lone wolf.

Not that it mattered. Just two more months of summer and I’d head out east for my freshman year. All I had to do was wait out this suburban hell a bit longer.

Illinois hadn’t been fancy, but at least it had character. The neighborhood my parents moved to in Arizona could have been anywhere, rows of identical-looking new-build homes. And most of our neighbors were the same, too—families with two kids, many of them around my age.

That is, except for Ryan and Joe.

Somehow, in the backwaters of America, we lived next door to the first real, live gay couple I’d ever met. People spoke of them with mild fascination. My dad commented behind closed doors, of course, asking which one of them was the wife. He wasn’t homophobic per se, he just didn’t know how to place them. Nor did I really.

While they’d always been nothing but friendly and polite, I’d kept a bit of a safe distance. And for arguably good reason. Any proximity might reveal the very fact that I had been trying to reconcile for the past year for myself.

I wasn’t so sure about my own sexuality.

“Cole!”

I heard my name called out from behind me as I rounded the house towards the front yard.

I turned to see Joe—broad, shaved head, perfectly manicured beard. He was a big guy, and he might have cut an intimidating figure if he hadn’t exuded such warmth.

“How’s it going, buddy?” he asked, eyeing me hard at work.

“Hanging in,” I replied. “It’s hot as fuck.”

“I know, wild.” He laughed. “Never will get used to this after a childhood in Massachusetts.”

My face softened. “Didn’t realize you weren’t from here.”

Another outlier.

“God, no. Work transfer. If you couldn’t tell, there aren’t a lot of other…people like us around here.”

I appreciated his honesty, that he, too, wondered how he’d ended up here. And, I realized, I had to give him credit. Being one-half of the only gay couple in a very straight neighborhood? Must be uncomfortable.

“Your mom said you were staying here solo this week. Told her I’d keep an eye on you.”

I shook my head. “Thinks I can’t take care of myself. Always so worried.”

“Well, that’s what Moms do.”

It was the longest we’d ever spoken, and I found his entire demeanor disarming. Despite my initial hesitation, I was struck by how comfortable I felt around him. He was very attractive, far more so than most of the guys in town, which was another reason I’d steered clear. It was intoxicating, and he had the confidence of age to buoy him. Men like him—late 30s, early 40s—they had this mastery and command over their being and bodies that seemed unimaginable. It stirred up something inside me—not quite jealousy per se, but envy.

Why couldn’t I look like that? I wondered.

Somehow, it felt like I would perpetually be in the body of a boy while everyone else was a man.

“Listen,” Joe continued. “She said you were looking for some spare cash. We’ve got some yard work for you, if you’re interested. And if you can bear the heat.”

I stared up at the sky, the sun already blazing down and showing no sign of cloud cover. It was hot, but I could manage. And I had barely anything else going on.

“Why not,” I replied. “I’m in.”

“How’s this afternoon? Maybe beat the heat by starting around 4 or so?”

I nodded in affirmation, touched by his generosity and that he’d thought of me—that he would think of me at all, really.

I headed next door to Ryan and Joe’s later that afternoon, the sun having receded just behind the mountains, the smallest reprieve.

When the door opened, Joe’s husband, Ryan, stood before me, a broad smile on his face.

It was remarkable. They were always so friendly. But whereas Joe was thicker, hairier, with a shaved head that was always perfectly smooth, Ryan was lean muscle, tanned, with longer hair combed back on top. He stood in a t-shirt and shorts, his tan set off by their crisp white.

“Cole! Great to see you, buddy.” He slapped my shoulder. “Come on in.”

I entered, taken aback. It was remarkable to be inside a house so similar to mine, and yet so entirely different. Same build, same layout, and yet an alternate reality.

Like my house, but if my mother had taste.

“Was just about to go for a run, but Joe’s gonna show you out back.” He eyed me for a minute. “You’re looking fit. You been hitting the gym?”

My face flushed. I was gratified that anyone noticed. “A bit.”

“It’s showing, man. Good for you.”

There was something so wholly warm and encouraging about him, a refreshing change from most of the older people I met. They were all “where are you going to school” and “what do you want to do when you graduate.” Rather than being particularly encouraging or affirming, they were merely focused on the future.

What about the right here and now?

Just then, Joe entered the foyer.

“Cole, you made it.” He nodded for me to join him. “Come on, I’ll show you out back.”

Joe led me through the house, every room a revelation of how much more beautiful mine could be, until we landed in the yard.

“As you can see, it needs a bit of a lift.”

I glanced around. It was identical to next door, only they’d added a small pool and tall hedges for maximum privacy. It didn’t look like it needed that much work, to be honest—a light mowing, maybe collecting some leaves. Easy work.

Their backyard “in need of a lift” looked more pristine and manicured than my parents’ did any day. It occurred to me that they likely had landscapers to do this—in fact, I knew they did—so why did they need me?

As I glanced around the yard, a stirring caught my eye. And then I saw him—Ryan, through the bedroom window. Unlike the other houses on the block, Joe and Ryan had put on an addition—a full primary suite off the side with sliding glass doors that led to the back deck, just where we were standing.

Within it was Ryan, slowly stripping off his clothes and piling them onto the bed. I tried to look away, but something in me couldn’t muster it. I was mesmerized, fully consumed by the vision of Ryan’s naked body, his musculature on full view before me. It was impressive.

While both of them were bigger than I was, and Joe a real bruiser, Ryan’s body looked as if etched in stone, and his deep tan only further accentuated it. He had high, tight pecs that tapered to a six-pack and a narrow waist, and then an ass that was somehow both pronounced and yet pure muscle. Whereas my own ass was like a wall of flesh, all my remaining baby fat accumulated in one place, Ryan’s had earned its prominence through clear, hard work.

And the skin. There was something about the skin of an older man. It was just the way it all hung, like you could tell this was a man who had lived. I don’t know why, but something about that was…hot. Desirable. These were men who had lived a life and were here to tell the tale.

Joe’s voice trailed off, following my gaze to where Ryan was still selecting a pair of running shorts, fully nude.

“Oh, Jesus,” Joe said, mildly embarrassed, turning me around just as I snapped to attention.

“It’s all right,” I replied, brushing it off, half-dismayed to have been caught. I remained in a momentary daze, trying and failing to get the image of Ryan out of my head.

Joe searched my face, as if trying to glean a reaction.

“Don’t get a ton of guests back here,” he said as an aside. If it was true, it was a nice gesture then, inviting me over, naked men aside.

“Why don’t I show you where all the tools are in the garage?”

I set to work, starting first with the hedges and doing some light trimming before collecting all the detritus and giving the entire property a mow. In all, it only took about an hour and a half, and to my surprise, Joe was right. I did look better.

Leave it to gay people to know better.

I headed back towards the kitchen door, my body drenched. Despite the later start and being out of direct sunlight, the humidity was a killer. My entire tank top was soaked through, sweat dripping down my brow. I was a full, sloppy mess.

“How’d it go?” Joe asked as I returned inside.

“Easy peasy,” I replied. “Feels like you did this more as a favor to me than anything else.”

“Hardly,” Joe replied, handing me a glass of water, which I accepted gratefully. He eyed my body. “Looks like you more than put in the work.” I stood, self-conscious, trying not to make a mess on the floor. “You’re more than welcome to go for a swim.”

I glanced at the pool. It did look inviting.

“Yeah?” I asked. “Let me just go back and shower first. I’m pretty nasty.”

Joe demurred. “You can shower here, and we’ve got trunks for you.”

It seemed overly kind, but he was intent on keeping me here. And I was content to remain in this oasis. It had been a bit lonely, the last day or so, being by myself. And everything here was so…nice.

How had all of this existed right next door to me?

Joe guided me into the house and to the primary suite, the layout…expansive. It looked like a fancy hotel rather than a house, with a large king bed, a set of walk-in closets, and a large bathroom to match. Beside a set of his and his sinks was a massive shower with about six different heads.

He placed a towel down on the counter. “Set up shop in here. It’s a great shower, maybe my favorite thing in the house. Take your time.”

And then he was gone, leaving me to my own devices.

I lathered up in the shower, the entire thing rimmed in glass. The far wall of the bathroom was mostly mirrors, and as I scrubbed clean, I couldn’t help but watch myself within its reflection.

I did look pretty good, I had to admit. While you’d never call me ripped, I’d been adding a layer of muscle under all that baby fat, and at 5’9, I had the beginnings of a chest, my ass—always my best feature—having filled out even further.

It was a weird thing to be gay, I was realizing—to be attracted to people that looked like you. It was like a feedback loop. The more I sculpted my body, the more approving I was of myself. I wanted to look like who I wanted to be with. And it felt nice that Ryan had noticed when I’d walked in. Nobody else seemed to.

No one else seemed to care.

Fully clean, I shut off the water, climbing out of the stall and using the towel Joe had given me to dry off. I liked being in this space, with these guys. I had hardly been around an hour or two, but they’d made me feel welcome. Comfortable. Like one of them.

I walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, only to find Ryan before me.

“Hey!”

My jaw almost dropped. He’d returned from his run, and he was standing shirtless, drenched in sweat. Beads of perspiration glistened along his chest, his hair tousled towards his forehead. Despite the run-in, there was clearly no awkwardness about the fact that I was walking out of his bathroom in just a towel.

“Joe said you were staying for a swim. Glad to have you. Just gonna rinse off, and I’ll join.”

I nodded, trying not to stare, my eyes flicking between his face and his half-naked body. He gave a little smile—kind, generous—allowing my gawking.

“Joe!” he called out into the rest of the house. “I’m gonna shower. Grab Cole a suit.”

And then he exited behind me, walking into the bathroom but leaving the door just slightly ajar before turning on the shower.

Joe appeared in the bedroom door, and my jaw almost dropped again.

He’d changed out of his clothes and into a suit of his own, a pair of board shorts that, on their own, were far from revealing. But they hung low around his waist, his barrel chest fully exposed.

His body was the opposite of Ryan’s—shoulders broad, his pecs thick and meaty, pronounced, all giving way to a worked-out abdomen that protruded just so, setting off distinct cum gutters. He was solid, heavy muscle, the extent of it concealed by clothing until now.

I stood there, suddenly self-conscious about how slight my body was by comparison. In their own ways, they were gods among men, and I was a mere mortal.

And then there was a compounding factor—a stiffening between my legs, the proximity of Joe in all of his imposing size sparking something deep within.

“Shower’s nice, right?” Joe asked, breaking me out of my mild panic.

“Very,” I replied, trying to keep my eyes upwards.

“Got it all installed last year. Ryan says it’s like going through a car wash.”

I let out a laugh, maybe too large. “He’s right.”

“Let’s get you a pair of trunks. Think you’re more Ryan’s size. ”

He led me over into their walk-in closet, pulling open a drawer from the built-ins, its bay full of swimsuits.

“Here,” he said, gesturing before him. “Have your pick.”

I glanced down the drawer. Most of them were small—very small—Speedo’s, in fact. I blanched. I’d never worn one before. I’d always thought them too gay, though I’d wondered what it would feel like to put one on. To feel something on my body that hugged me that way.

I hesitated, even more self-conscious.

Joe read my mind. “Too small for you?”

I glanced up, caught. “No, it’s fine.”

“Take your pick, I’ll let you change.”

And with that, he exited.

I reached for a pair, almost like boxer briefs, lifting them up and examining them before me. Might as well give it a shot.

Dropping my towel, I climbed into them, pulling them up along my waist and then surveying myself in the full-length mirror.

They did look good. Great, even. And I loved the way the fabric felt, curving just around my ass, following its lines. I felt held, you might say.

But my dick—oh, my dick. While it was strapped down at the front by the thin nylon fabric, it was obvious that something was amiss.

There was no hiding it. I had a semi.

The combination of being so naked in their house, Joe’s presence, and the feel of this new garment was too much.

I tried to focus, to will it to go back down, a flush of embarrassment washing over me. But it was hardly any use. The more I thought about it, the more stubbornly it remained.

“How’s it going in there?” Joe called out from the bedroom.

I further panicked, trapped. I didn’t know what to do.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice, I thought, rationalizing.

And so, without options, I turned and exited, walking back into the bedroom where Joe stood before me.

He sized me up, giving my whole body the once-over.

“Perfect,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Knew you’d be the same size.”

I stood there, the cold of the air conditioning setting my entire body on edge, nipples turning hard and tight against my chest.

“Ryan said you’d been working out. It’s paying off.” The statement bordered on flirtatious, but it was softened by the tone of Joe’s voice—upbeat, friendly.

I blushed, looking down at myself in the Speedo, embarrassed. “You think?”

“Definitely,” he replied.

The flattery was energizing, reassuring, but it also had the undesired effect of going straight to my dick. His expression was kind, but betrayed something else. What, exactly, I wasn’t sure.

I glanced at Joe’s chest, his nipples wide, like saucers, also tight and punctuated in the cold. It was just the kind of chest I’d imagined feeling for myself one day, its peaks and valleys so vast, a wonderland to be explored.

Involuntarily, my dick began to grow, the energy growing more and more intense. And so it turned further clockwise, sliding through the slick fabric of the trunks until it had reached the top, pressing against the narrow waistband and challenging its grip.

I looked down, the head of my cock ever so slightly peeking out the top, exposed. It was barely a match for my raging boner.

I glanced up at Joe, his eyes flicking between my face and the display I was putting forward.

“I—” I started to speak, trying to make an excuse. “Sorry—”

He shook his head, only the slightest movement. “Don’t apologize,” he replied, his expression kind, generous, as if making all of this somehow okay.

I glanced down at his own crotch, and that’s when I realized it. He, too, was tented through his board shorts, a thickness gathering that was only suggested, if quite certainly there, whereas mine was on full display.

I stood, frozen, my breath deepening, uncertain of what to do.

And then Joe broke the stillness, making his way closer to me until he was just a few inches away. I could practically feel the heat radiating off his body, warming me in the high A/C despite hardly touching.

Our eyes were locked in a dance. I wanted so badly to reach out, to touch him, to feel every inch of that body, but I was unsteady on this new terrain, instead being led along, merely a passenger on this ride.

He glanced down at my dick, the head now fully poking out from the top of the Speedo, my erection undeniable.

“May I?” he asked.

I hardly knew what he was asking permission for, but I didn’t care. I nodded back. Whatever he wanted, I was game. It didn’t matter.

And so he extended a hand, as if in slow motion, reaching his thumb and placing it to the exposed head of my cock, gently grazing along the slit where it had already begun pulsing out the beginnings of precum.

I smarted at the sensation, that one touch amazing, electric, better than anything I’d ever felt before. It was so subtle, so gentle, that one hit sending shockwaves through my entire body.

He nodded, observing my reaction, before raising his thumb up to his mouth, running it along his tongue before replacing it down, this time massaging me in a wetter, more deliberate stroke.

My body shook.

“How’s that?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

I was beyond words, merely grunting my affirmation, my breath full and deep as I tried to steady myself on my feet.

And then he lowered himself down, suddenly on his knees before me, that smooth, shaved head and those kind, gentle eyes, staring up at me.

I was mesmerized, practically floating out of my body and watching the two of us as he raised his hands to my waist, letting his finger tips graze along the ridge of the trunks—the most gentle caress—before he found his way underneath their edge and began pulling them down, lowering them past my hips and ass, my cock mercifully releasing and falling before me.

Fuck.

It was a beautiful sight, my full length pointing out just inches from his face, this dad staring up at me, his eyes locked on mine. My dick pulsed at the sensation of being free, my balls tight and hard against the base, further clenching every time my head contracted, a new thread of pre-cum pooling at the slit.

Joe’s eyes didn’t leave mine as he moved himself closer, lips parting and mouth opening, his tongue slowly extending and finding the very tip of me, licking along the underside where the foreskin met the head, before running circles around it, teasing it in full, 360-degree motions.

I moaned as he did it, nipples growing ever tighter against my chest, my feet suddenly growing even more unsteady.

And then he wrapped his lips fully around me, and I almost lost my mind, body bucking back and forth in elation. He held me there, suckling on the head and flicking his tongue just along the underside, as if milking out pulse after pulse of precum with the most remarkable patience and dexterity.

I moaned even more deeply, entranced by how slow and gentle he could be, so focused.

And then he slowly lowered his mouth further, taking me deeper within, until his lips ran all the way down my shaft to receive me fully, his nose meeting the small tuft of pubes I’d managed to grow in all of my 18 years.

I threw my head back, practically yelping as he deep-throated me, the sensation almost too much to bear.

And then he pulled away, my dick once again standing before me, pulsing, fully slicked with his spit, the entirety wetter than I could have imagined.

Suddenly, I glanced up, having entirely forgotten where I was or what was happening.

And then I realized it. We weren’t alone.

Before me, in the doorway, was Ryan—body still damp from the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

I stood, frozen, about to pull up my shorts in embarrassment. We’d been caught. Or had we? Before I could act, Ryan’s expression set any concern aside.

He wasn’t angry or upset. Quite the opposite. He was smiling back, that warm, comforting smile, now mixed with something else.

Desire.

Joe grinned, glancing between my face and Ryan’s.

“Told you the workouts have been paying off,” Ryan said quietly, nodding towards me.

And then, without warning, he dropped his towel, letting it fall to the floor to reveal himself—his dick fully hard, tanned and thick, pointing out before him. It was a full 8 inches, with the most beautiful vein running straight through, like a steam engine, balls big and heavy, somehow hanging low despite how erect he was.

I swooned at the sight, this whole scenario sending me into overwhelm. I could have come right there and then—my cock hard and exposed before me, speedo around my knees, Ryan hard and pulsing in the bathroom doorway, and Joe, the thick, muscle dad with the enormous pecs, prostrate before me. It was a tableau I couldn’t have conjured up in my wildest fantasies.

And yet it was happening here, now, in real life.

“Ryan,” Joe started, looking up at me. “You wanna help me out?”

Ryan’s face broke out into a grin. “Gladly.”

He walked over to the two of us, lingering long enough to run a hand lightly down my chest—tracing my chest and my nipples and along my stomach—before lowering himself down beside Joe.

I couldn’t fucking believe it.

My two hot neighbors—the ones I’d admired from afar for so long—were on their knees before me, somehow having become the object of their desires.

Joe raised his hand beneath my cock, holding it between thumb and forefinger, and angled it towards Ryan, suddenly on offer.

“Beautiful,” Ryan said, eyes flicking up to meet my gaze.

My face flushed for the millionth time, overcome by how generous they were with me, how kind—how full of flattery.

And then Ryan lowered his mouth onto me, slowly wrapping his lips around my cock before taking me fully inside, his mouth even warmer and more inviting than Joe’s.

I luxuriated in the feel of being actually sucked off, Ryan’s insides fully massaging the entire length of me. I’d never gotten head like this before, the kind that came from the result of real experience, skill.

Joe watched his husband suck me off, his eyes alternating between his efforts and my face, observing the way I received each rise and fall of his head with a grin. And then he slowly lifted himself up, placing his mouth to my chest—my left pec—extending a tongue and staring to flick its tight, erect head, grazing it just so.

I let out a grunt, the mixture of having my cock worked by Ryan and my tit worked by Joe sending me into the stratosphere. I’d never experienced anything like this, so worshiped by two men, so taken care of without any expectation of a return.

Joe lowered himself back down, Ryan passing my dick back to him.

His turn.

And so Joe began sucking me again, his lips pressed fully apart, Ryan now watching as his husband started fucking me with his mouth, working me with greater and greater urgency. Inspired, working in complement, Ryan lowered himself beneath my undercarriage, his mouth finding my balls and starting to encircle them in slow, deliberate motions, all while Joe massaged me from tip to base.

I’d seen videos of guys doing stuff like this, not in a million years thinking it would ever happen to me. What would that feel like? I’d wondered. Now, I knew. It felt like every inch of your cock and balls worshipped all at once.

Ryan’s motions grew wider, wetter, his tongue finding its way further beneath me, just grazing the beginnings of my hole. I shook the moment he found it, like he’d found a direct line to something even more intense.

And then Ryan pulled away, Joe continuing to work my cock, Ryan reaching down for the waistband of Joe’s board shorts and untying them, pulling them apart and down, and allowing Joe’s cock to fall forward.

My jaw nearly dropped at the sight.

If Ryan’s dick was solid, bigger than mine, but solidly manageable, Joe’s dick was massive. Thick. Long. 9 inches, at least, cut. It was a dick that suited the rest of him. A bruiser, to be sure.

Christ.

Joe pulled away, newly exposed, smiling as Ryan caught my gaze as I drank in the view.

“It’s nice, right?” Ryan asked, running his hand along it, presenting it to me.

I nodded back feverishly.

I could hardly believe these two dads were naked before me, both of their dicks so hard they were almost exploding, each on their knees servicing…me.

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TO BE CONTINUED....