“Yeah? How?”
“Like this, for starters—”
There was a long pause. Tomasz listened intently. He thought he heard faint, muffled moans. He strongly suspected that the two men were kissing—necking like a pair of teenagers on a date, right there in the living room.
“Listen,” Krzysztof said, breaking the silence at last. His voice sounded husky with desire. “I’ve got an idea. Once Tomasz puts on those headphones of his and starts listening to that crappy music he and his friends are into, a bomb could go off and he’d never hear it. And he’s a heavy sleeper—”
“Like you,” Nardo suggested.
“Yeah, like me. Whatever! Anyway, you pretend to leave and I’ll pretend to lock up and go to bed. You wait maybe five or ten minutes, then you use your key to let yourself in the back door. Sneak upstairs and I’ll be in my bedroom waiting for you. We’ll be okay, as long as we don’t make too much noise. In the morning, you can sneak out again.”
“I’m not sure I’m crazy about the idea of all this sneaking around.”
“Neither am I, but it’s going to have to do until we can think of a better arrangement. So bear with me. You do want to spend the night with me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Get going, then. You can just sit and wait in your car. Make it ten minutes, to be on the safe side. Goodnight, Nardo,” Krzysztof added, raising his voice to the level of a stage whisper. “I’ll call you on the morning. Okay?”
“Okay. Goodnight.” Nardo echoed Krzysztof’s theatrical manner.
Both men would’ve made lousy actors, Tomasz decided.
While Krzysztof made a great show of escorting Nardo to the door and exchanging further goodnights with him, Tomasz slipped into his room, got undressed and turned down his bed.
So Nardo has a key to the house, does he? How cozy! He and Krzysztof must be pretty tight, already.
It was clear that Krzysztof’s relationship with the cop had already progressed beyond mere casual sex. Now Tomasz recalled several recent occasions on which Krzysztof had phoned to tell him he was running late and wouldn’t be home for an hour or two…and there had been other times, when Krzysztof had told his brother he had to go out on mysterious errands, which he wasn’t too specific about. Tomasz now suspected he knew the truth about these absences. During them, Krzysztof had gone over to Nardo’s place to trick with him.
Lurid, pornographic images flashed through his mind—of Krzysztof and Nardo lying naked on a bed together, in a sixty-nine position, sucking hungrily on each other’s dicks. Of the two men swallowing each other’s come. He visualized them playing with each other’s ass holes, fingering the tiny puckered apertures, penetrating and finger-fucking them. An even grosser picture suddenly formed in his imagination. Nardo lying on his belly with his legs spread, with Krzysztof lying on top of him, shoving his cock up the cop’s ass. Tomasz could almost hear Nardo moaning, Fuck me, Krzysztof! Fuck my ass! Begging for dick, like a slut. Begging for it, the way Billy always did when Tomasz screwed him. Fuck me! Oh, fuck my hole!
He heard, in reality, Krzysztof coming up the stairs, then passing his closed bedroom door.
“Nardo’s gone home. And I’m going to bed, Tomasz.”
“All right. Me, too. I’m going to put my headphones on.” Tomasz opened his door a crack. “Hey, bro,” he sang out, through the gap. “Why didn’t you just ask Nardo to spend the night here?”
“Huh?”
“He could’ve slept in uncle Aleksander’s room.”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t think of that.”
“We could have made him a nice brunch, in the morning.”
“Maybe next time we’ll have to do that.”
“Definitely. Well—goodnight, Krzysztof.”
“Goodnight.”
“Sleep well,” Tomasz replied, perhaps with just a hint of sarcasm in his tone of voice. He knew that Krzysztof must be kicking himself, for having forgotten about the unoccupied third bedroom at the end of the hall. Aleksander still kept a few of his things there, and he slept in it on the rare occasions when his visits extended overnight.
Tomasz closed his door and stretched out nude on top of his bed. He didn’t bother actually to turn on his stereo system, let alone don the headphones. With the speakers switched off, Krzysztof wouldn’t know the difference.
He monitored the alarm clock beside his bed. Nardo was prompt. No sooner had the ten minutes passed than, straining to catch any sound that might penetrate the quiet house, Tomasz was sure he detected soft footfalls passing his door. It could be Krzysztof, puttering about, but Tomasz was sure it was Nardo, sneaking upstairs just as the two fuck buddies had schemed. The cop was probably in his stocking feet, maybe carrying his shoes. A moment later, Tomasz definitely heard Krzysztof’s door open and close, very quietly.
Finding this sex farce strangely stimulating, Tomasz lay there for a moment, but he couldn’t hear anything further. Frustrated, he impulsively decided to shoot the works, so to speak. He’d already dared a great deal, by his standards, by snooping in Krzysztof’s bedroom earlier that afternoon. Now, he might as well take an additional risk. He got up, left his room, padded nude and barefoot down the hall, pausing in front of Krzysztof’s closed bedroom door. If he got caught standing out there in the hall, bare-assed naked, by the two men, he could always claim he was making a trip to the bathroom. They’d be the ones who would have some explaining to do, after all. However, Tomasz doubted they’d be coming out of the room soon.
He was well rewarded for his audacity. He could hear what was going on in the room, and much more clearly than he’d anticipated.
Tomasz listened excitedly to the sex sounds the two men were making. Their voices carried faintly through the door, above the hum of a fan that Krzysztof had obviously switched on, to circulate the air through his room—also perhaps, because he thought a little white noise might help to mask the telltale noises he and Nardo were making. It was like hearing only the soundtrack of a gay porno film, without the visual images—which images, however, Tomasz’s hyperactive imagination was more than able to supply.
“Suck it,” he heard Krzysztof whisper, in an urgent, pleading tone of voice. “Oh, suck it for me, baby! Yeah, just like that…get that hot mouth of yours all the way down on it. Oh, sweet Jesus, Nardo! That feels so good.”
Grunts and slurps emanated from the cop’s mouth as he fed on Krzysztof’s prick.
“Beat off while you blow me,” Krzysztof demanded. “Work that prick of yours with your fist. We can change places in a minute. Then I’ll suck yours and jerk mine.”
Without thinking about it, Tomasz lowered his hand to his own groin. He stood there, his head tilted toward the door, his ear listening avidly and doing his best to interpret the probable significance of what he heard. Now Nardo, in a low, hushed voice, was encouraging Krzysztof to suck him—Krzysztof’s mouth made quite a lot of noise as he employed it on his buddy’s cock. Krzysztof even gagged, several times, however, judging by the sound of it, he refused to let go of Nardo’s cock, but persevered.
Next, Tomasz was sure the two men were kissing—wet, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses interspersed with a lot of heavy breathing. The bedsprings in Krzysztof’s mattress kept squeaking faintly, as the two men moved about restlessly on the bed.
Neither of them was speaking now, but the obscene slurping and gulping sounds continued. Tomasz suspected they were sixty-nining. They kept it up for a long time.
The mattress gave an extra-loud squeak, probably the result of one or both of the men abruptly shifting his position.
“You want some poppers?” Krzysztof asked.
“Yeah.”
“I have a fresh bottle.”
“Go for it,” Nardo told him, eagerly.
A further montage of unmistakably sexual sound effects now assailed Tomasz’s ears. Any doubts on his part about exactly what his brother and his boyfriend were doing now ended when he
heard Krzysztof hiss, “Get that fucking tongue deep in my ass. Eat it, Dago! Eat my ass!”
The rimming went on for several minutes, with the participants obviously switching their positions and taking turns. “Yeah, lick my cop ass, Polack,” Nardo commanded, at one point. “Oh yeah—that’s a good little whore. Lick it, fucker. Clean it out! Get it good and wet. Good and hot. Good and ready for your cock!”
Dago and Polack, Tomasz noted, appeared to be the Politically Incorrect pet names Nardo and Krzysztof used for each other. As terms of endearment, they at least had the advantage of being ethnically accurate. Tomasz supposed it could be worse. He winced at the thought of hearing the two men address each other as, say, Honey Buns and Angel Puss!
Suppressing his own impulse to gasp loudly for breath, Tomasz continued to play with himself. He ought to be ashamed of himself, he knew. His behavior was disgusting—standing there naked with his hard-on in his fist, listening to his big brother fuck his stud cop buddy in the ass. This is sick, Tomasz chastised himself. I’m a pervert. A dirty pervert!
However, the voice inside his head, the one that was lecturing him, supposedly so sternly—in reality it sounded merely dutiful. It wasn’t very convincing. Tomasz found it easy to ignore, especially with all the pornographic sound effects coming through the bedroom door. They soon drowned out the voice, which gave up the unequal struggle and stopped trying to intervene. Now Tomasz could concentrate his full attention on what he was hearing—what he was imagining and especially on what his fist was doing, as it stroked and squeezed his wildly overexcited dick.
“Fuck me, oh fuck me hard,” Nardo kept pleading. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”
“Keep your voice down,” Krzysztof whispered. “If Tomasz hears you—”
“He probably fell fast asleep long ago. I bet he still has his headphones on and his music blaring in his ears, even though he’s unconscious. If you’re so worried about it, put your hand over my mouth. Pretend you’re raping me. You know how I always get off on that!”
Krzysztof apparently did as Nardo suggested. “Shut the fuck up.” He pretended to threaten the cop. “Keep your mouth shut and open your hole. Open your hole wider and take my cock. Don’t make me hurt you, bitch. I’ll hurt you real bad, if you put up any resistance.”
Tomasz hear muffled mewing sounds, as though Nardo was trying to talk through the palm of the hand that his rapist now had firmly clamped down on his mouth.
“Yeah, you Dago cop whore,” Krzysztof said, with audible satisfaction. “Take my Polack cock! Take it and ride it. Get fucked, tough guy. Get fucked!”
Tomasz stopped making any attempt to censor his thoughts. Instead, he gave his imagination free vein.
I wish it was me—me, fucking that stud cop, not Krzysztof. Nardo sounds like he really gets off on being fucked. He must like it as much as Billy does. Looks like our macho officer of the law isn’t so macho after all.
As he continued to eavesdrop, Tomasz also continued to masturbate. Gradually, he accelerated his pace. When he felt his ejaculation starting to prepare itself, deep down in his swollen balls, he decided he might as well make himself more comfortable. Without taking his fist off his prick, he eased himself down, first sitting on his bare butt on the floor, then lying on his back. He stroked himself slowly and steadily to orgasm, his come finally spurting free from his prick and splashing wetly all over his belly and chest—just as Nardo’s loud moans betrayed the fact that Krzysztof had started to come, too, inside his hard-fucked butt hole.
In his mind, Tomasz pictured the two lovers kissing, sucking on each other’s tongues, as Krzysztof moved his big dick in and out of the other guy’s anus more sluggishly, losing his last few drops of jism.
Moaning softly, the two lovers continued to rub their bodies against each other. They exchanged kisses for minutes on end, until they finally quieted down and fell asleep. It was only then that a weary, but still erotically agitated Tomasz roused himself. He made a quick detour to the bathroom, where he grabbed a towel to wipe himself off. Furtively, he retreated into his bedroom. There, warm and comfortable in his bed, he allowed himself to relax and to start to drift off into slumber as well.
Up until now, Tomasz had been ambivalent about his brother’s affair with Nardo. The two brothers had established a domestic routine and Krzysztof’s obvious interest in Nardo certainly promised to complicate matters, but now, Tomasz realized that having a brother who was gay could have its advantages. There hardly seemed to be any need for Tomasz to conceal his own homosexuality from Krzysztof.
As he hovered in that twilight state halfway between consciousness and sleep, Tomasz’s thoughts wandered freely, unrestricted by thoughts of conventional behavior or morality. Tomasz was already fantasizing about what it might be like to experience the previously unthinkable. He couldn’t prevent himself from wondering what it would be like to have sex with his brother’s stud cop lover, the handsome Officer Leonardo Montegrappa.
Chapter Five
A Wakeup Call
In the morning, Tomasz happened to wake up just in time to hear Nardo slipping out of Krzysztof’s bedroom, sneaking down the stairs and leaving the house—by the back door. Tomasz got up and watched from his bedroom window. He could glimpse Nardo emerging from the side of the house and turning onto the front sidewalk, before he walked away down the street and disappeared from sight. Presumably, he’d parked his car somewhere farther up the block. Tomasz quickly left his bedroom and went into Krzysztof’s.
Krzysztof was still in bed, still fast asleep lying on his stomach, naked. Naked, as was Tomasz, who hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes for this early-morning trek down the hall. The sleeper had kicked the sheets and blanket down toward the foot of the bed, leaving them covering only the lower half of Krzysztof’s solidly muscled buttocks. Krzysztof had one arm bent at the elbow, with the forearm pushed under the pillow and his face buried in the pillow, with additional cushioning provided by the crook of his arm.
On the nightstand was the incriminating evidence left behind by the night’s sordid activities—a used condom, crumpled up and discarded in the ashtray, the tube of lubricant and the little brown glass bottle of liquid poppers, now minus its outer wrapper.
Tomasz allowed himself to entertain some ungenerous thoughts.
So this is the same guy who’s always lecturing me about how I’d better stay on the straight and narrow, or else. What a hypocrite! Man, he’s dead to the world—fucked out! And the place looks and smells like a whorehouse. A gay whorehouse!
Krzysztof grunted softly as he began to awaken.
“Is that you, Nardo?” Krzysztof muttered into the pillow. “Why’d you get up so early? Come back to bed. I bet you’ve got a nice big piss hard-on, don’t you, you horny bastard? Well, I guess turnabout’s fair play. Make good use of it. You’ve still got time to screw me before you have to leave.”
Tomasz held his breath, not knowing what to say. Krzysztof thought he was Nardo, standing there in the bedroom, and he was inviting Nardo to screw him. He was willing to let the other man fuck him, right here and now. For Tomasz, this was a stunning revelation. He’d assumed that Krzysztof was the one who always did the fucking and that it was his less manly lovers who took on the passive role, allowing themselves to be penetrated. Damn! Now Tomasz knew that his big stud brother liked it both ways.
Tomasz was afraid to say anything, of course, because that would reveal his identity.
However, Krzysztof didn’t seem to be expecting a reply, not a verbal one, in any case. “Don’t keep me waiting,” he complained sleepily, his voice muffled by the pillow, which he now hugged closer to his face and chest. “My butt could use a good workout. Get that cop dick of yours in there and fuck the hell out of me,, buddy!”
He wriggled his butch ass whorishly back and forth in the air, in mute invitation.
“Go ahead, Nardo, baby,” Krzysztof urged, speaking in a low, seductive-sounding whisper, now. “Go ahead and s
hove it up my ass. You’d better fuck me while you’ve got me in the mood to take it, you big-dicked son of a bitch!”
Tomasz wasn’t sure what he felt as he listened to this lewd little monologue—contempt, or amusement. A combination of both, maybe.
“Don’t tear me apart, though,” Krzysztof said into the pillow. “Grease it up first. And hurry up, stud,” Krzysztof added. “God, Nardo, I really want to get fucked. So hurry up and get your cock in there! We don’t have all that much time. We don’t want my baby brother to know you’re here, with your prick shoved up my ass. I’m going to have to kick your sexy butt out of here, before he wakes up.”
Grinning with fiendish delight at the irony of what Krzysztof had just said, Tomasz decided he’d kept silent for long enough.
He stepped toward the bed, leaned over it, and gave his brother a smart slap on his right ass cheek, with the flat of his hand.
“Ow!” Krzysztof yelped. His body jerked in response to the smack. “That hurt, you son of a bitch! I want you to fuck my butt—not bruise it!”
“Krzysztof, it’s me,” Tomasz said. “Tomasz.”
“Christ!” Krzysztof exclaimed. He froze. “Tomasz! What the hell are you doing here?”
Tomasz shrugged. “Just giving you your wakeup call, I guess. I know it’s Sunday, but I figured you probably wanted to get an early start. Unless,” he added maliciously, “you’re all worn out from what you and Nardo did last night.”
“Where’s Nardo?” Krzysztof asked.
“Gone. He left a few minutes ago.”
“Did he see you? Did you talk to him?”
“No. I saw him—leaving. Sneaking out, after the wild night you two had.”
Krzysztof tried to bluff it out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No?”
“No, you don’t. All right, Nardo spent the night here. So what? It was no big deal. You see…when he left to go home last night, he couldn’t get his car started. He came back to tell me. I told him not to worry about it, not that late at night. I said we’d look at the car in the morning. I let him sleep here with me. He must’ve got it started, okay, now. Since he hasn’t come back. Like I said—no big deal.”
A Fine Bromance Page 4