The never-ending texts during dinners coupled with the late-night shifts at Red Lobster, no less, raised Spencer’s suspicions. He never voiced them for fear of a false accusation, but he recognized the signs. His father, a self-professed womanizer, had introduced him to them all.
Like his mother, Tyler and Justin refused to see the signs. Spencer wore no such blinders. His world had been rife with deception and hidden agendas, from his parents to the friends and lovers he had before Justin and his current group of friends.
His past gave him clarity of vision others didn’t possess. He could spot a cheater and a poser at ten spaces.
Tyler, however, couldn’t.
He tried countless times to contact Rene, to find out what happened, to get some closure. Tyler hounded mutual friends and even stalked the Red Lobster where Rene worked. He never found him. After a few weeks, he learned Rene moved to Houston, but that was the only fact anyone ever heard of his whereabouts.
Tyler didn’t take the breakup well. He fell into a deep depression and was drunk most nights of the week. Justin and Spencer called him every day to check up on him. Typically maudlin on the phone, Tyler bemoaned his life and his situation. While they both understood his depression, they longed for Tyler to return to the man he’d been prior to Rene skipping out on him.
He refused to get back on the dating wagon and hadn’t had sex since before Rene left. Tyler was a mess of pent-up tension that screamed for release. They tried setting him up, but he refused. He told them he was destined to be alone, and he was okay with it.
For the first few weeks, even the first few months, they let his attitude slide. Lately, though, they’d both decided it was time for some tough love. Tyler needed to snap out of his funk before he sank too deeply into depression he couldn’t climb out of.
That was what this night was supposed to be about, a sort of intervention for their friend. They wanted him to see that he wasn’t meant to be alone. That what had happened between him and Rene wasn’t his fault.
The night hadn’t gone as planned.
Tyler was already tipsy by the time they arrived. Starting a serious conversation proved impossible since he kept changing the subject. He preferred to discuss Days of Our Lives, more concerned with Bo and Hope’s lives than his own.
It was Tyler’s way of escaping. Spencer knew that. But he was still frustrated. He wanted to make things better for his friend, but there was nothing he could do for someone who needed help but didn’t realize that he did.
“Y’all need another drink?” Tyler asked. His inebriated state always deepened his South Texas drawl. He sounded more like a cowboy from east Texas than a gay man born and bred in San Antonio.
Tyler took another sip of his ghastly martini. Spencer wondered why someone with such a thick Texas accent didn’t drink beer. Instead, his poison was straight vodka, some olive juice, and a splash of vermouth. It was the Tyler special no one but Tyler drank.
“I’ll take another,” Justin said. “It’s been a long week.”
“Okay, I’ll get it,” Tyler said while attempting to get up from the couch. The top half of Tyler’s body moved. His legs refused to cooperate. He looked like a newly born fawn trying to take its first steps.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Spencer said. “I’ll make the drinks.”
“You sure?” Tyler asked. He was already comfortably settling back into the couch with a huge grin on his face.
“Positive,” Spencer said while rising from the couch. “Another vodka and Sprite, sweetie?”
“Yes, please,” Justin said. “And while you do that, I’m going to pee.”
Spencer took Justin’s glass and Justin trotted down the hall to relieve his insanely small bladder. Spencer headed to the kitchen where the alcohol awaited, all lined up on the island like soldiers ready to be called into service.
As he walked into the kitchen, he thought about how this night was supposed to turn out. They’d intended on helping Tyler climb out of his depression, but instead, they were using his method to escape their own problems.
Alcohol was a great anesthetic, after all.
He and Justin were trudging through a low point in their relationship. Every relationship went through peaks and valleys, he knew that, but they had been in this valley for about three months, with no end in sight. It was starting to feel more like Death Valley than anything else.
They needed to address the problems, change aspects of their lives, but it was easier to focus on fixing Tyler than themselves.
They would climb out of the valley eventually. They were Justin and Spencer, after all; they were meant to be together. Of that much, he was sure. They were just insanely busy. Their jobs consumed more and more of their time.
The lack of quality time together was taking its toll. Typical lively conversations at dinner had been replaced by a question and answer session about their days. Instead of planning a trip for the summer or a party the following weekend, they watched numerous television shows on opposite sides of the couch.
They hadn’t been on a couple date in a few months, and they hadn’t had sex in about two weeks. Once a nightly occurrence, sex had been reduced to a rare event. Logically, Spencer knew the frequency of their sexual encounters would decrease. No relationship could continue the sexual pace they’d once kept. He just wasn’t prepared for sex to become routine.
On the rare occasion when they had sex now, he could predict with precise accuracy the order of events and how long each event would last. They would start by kissing, not as passionately as before, but with still some fervor. After a couple of minutes of kissing, one of them would get on top of the other. Frottage ensued for about five minutes, which typically ended when whoever was on top turned over, so they could sixty-nine. An orgasm followed about three minutes later, which led to cleanup, a kiss, and then sleep.
It wasn’t exactly the wild, scorching, ass-numbing sex they’d had for the first few years of their relationship, but the passion was there. It bubbled beneath the surface, suffocated by hours of exhaustion and endless responsibilities.
They were both overworking themselves, and they knew it.
They’d discussed the problem over dinner a few nights before, and they were both extremely honest about their feelings. It was one of the aspects of their relationship Spencer was most proud of. The two of them talked about anything, and they kept nothing from each other. Every fear, every concern, every lustful thought was shared.
It made Spencer feel secure. Their honesty was his new armor, the only thing he needed to remain safe. It was also the only reason they both opened up about the sexual fantasies they were each having.
Spencer had revealed his attraction to the new gardener, Alejandro, who often worked shirtless in the flowerbeds. He watched him work on the weekends while Justin slept late. His hands caked with dirt. Sweat running down his bare chest. Muscles straining as he rooted around in the hard-packed ground. Alejandro starred in a number of his masturbatory sessions.
The news didn’t surprise Justin. He thought Alejandro was hot too, but paled in comparison to Oscar Herrera, a parent of one of the sophomores at his school. Oscar was a firefighter and often picked up his son while still wearing his uniform. Rain wasn’t Justin’s only fetish. He had an obsession for uniforms as well.
Their fantasies told them their sexual drives hadn’t shut off; they were simply on pause. As a remedy, they promised to cut back at work. Instead of coming home at eight, they planned to shoot for six thirty. Instead of routine sex, they intended on spicing it up. The bedroom was going to be off-limits for a while. They would try sex in other rooms of the house, like they used to.
His last suggestion, though, threw Justin for a loop.
Since they were fantasizing about other men, he wanted to know how Justin felt about inviting a third man into their bed.
When the idea first entered Spencer’s mind, he quickly dismissed it. A three-way seemed too much like cheating, no matter how much the id
ea uncharacteristically intrigued him. His logical side pointed out that if they were having sex with a third person together, it wouldn’t be cheating. Cheating meant sneaking around and lying. There would be none of that. They would be enjoying the third person at the same time.
No lies. No deceptions. No sneaking.
The third person would be more of a marital aid than anything else.
Intellectually, the idea made sense, but he worried what the heart would think if they ever decided to cross that line.
They made no definite decisions one way or another about loosening the monogamous constraints of their relationship. They agreed to stay open to the possibility without actively searching for a third, especially since they were clueless as to how one went about finding that elusive third person.
“What’s taking you so long?” Tyler asked. He entered the kitchen on unsteady legs, his martini glass empty. “I’ve already finished my drink an’ I need another.”
Could Tyler be the answer? he thought. Tyler was someone they both loved, but he was also someone who shared a sexual past with Justin. Was a ménage a trois with Tyler opening a can of worms better left untouched? Besides, he was drunk. That would be taking advantage of him. Wouldn’t it?
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Tyler asked, stirring his freshly poured drink. His eyes were glazy from the alcohol but still surprisingly perceptive.
It’s now or never, Spencer thought. This is something Justin and I need, and who else but our dear friend to help us out of this dry spell?
Spencer took the martini glass from Tyler’s hand. He complained and tried to take it back, but Spencer easily blocked his attempt and set the glass on the counter next to his and Justin’s drinks.
Swiftly, he pulled Tyler into a kiss, and his friend’s rigid, panicked body communicated that Tyler seemed uncertain how to respond to Spencer’s sexual advance. Spencer’s hot tongue and insistent kisses told Tyler it was okay, and soon, Tyler’s tongue was just as wild as his. At first Tyler tasted like his nail-polish-remover martinis. But after a few seconds, the tangy twist of lust filled their hungry mouths.
Justin turned the corner, finally done in the bathroom. His jaw dropped at the sight of his partner and his best friend feverishly tonguing each other. Spencer could tell Justin didn’t know whether to break it up and kick the shit out of Tyler or join the fun.
“Why don’t you come join us?” he asked, hoping his invitation would settle Justin’s internal conflict.
Noticing Justin at the doorway, Tyler turned around and pulled Justin to him. He drew Justin into a kiss that was first tentative but then quickly grew in passion as each sought to devour the other.
In their kisses, Spencer saw pure lust, something he hadn’t seen in Justin in months. He held Tyler’s throat with his right hand, pushing him against the refrigerator, while he thrust his left hand beneath the waistband of Tyler’s jeans, vigorously massaging its contents. The stubble on their cheeks scraped together like sandpaper.
Spencer joined them against the refrigerator, and their arms opened to include him in the embrace. He kissed Tyler, then Justin. Then the three of them kissed as one, their tongues and lips freely mingling, sliding back and forth from one greedy mouth to another.
Saliva dribbled down his chin, and Justin licked it up and gnawed at his cleft. Tyler dove into his mouth again, the taste of their communal kiss still on their lips like fresh cinnamon.
As Tyler’s hot breath panted in his ear and Justin’s strong fingers tweaked his right nipple erect, Spencer felt liberated from his stresses and responsibilities. The yoke, which had choked him for months, fell from his neck. He was free.
“I’ve wanted to have sex with the two of y’all for so long,” Tyler said. “I’m so happy we’re doing this.”
“Me too,” he and Justin said in unison.
With consent given, the three of them slowly shed their clothes, delighting in the revelation of their raging masculinity. Tyler’s plump cock stood out amidst a shock of black hair that fanned upward from his groin to a light coating of fur on his chest and stomach. Justin’s stiffness throbbed angrily from his trimmed crotch, and a thread of precum dangled from its head. As Spencer drew them both into another kiss, his normally pink prick turned a deep red and stood at such attention that it brushed against his hairless stomach.
Together, they inched back to the living room, continuing their shared kiss, not wanting to break their circle of passion for fear that its raging fires might subside.
When they reached the couch, Tyler lay down. “Fuck my face,” he told Justin.
Justin mounted the couch and slid his hard cock inside Tyler’s wet mouth. Spencer watched as someone other than him gave his man a blowjob. The jealousy he expected to crash down on him never fell. Instead, his own cock turned rock hard at the sight of Justin receiving pleasure from another man’s mouth, his pulsating dick slick with the spit of their best friend.
Justin peered over his shoulder to look at him, his brown eyes burning red with lust. “Suck that cock,” he commanded Spencer. “I want to see you swallow him whole.”
He did as commanded and slowly lowered his mouth onto Tyler’s cock. As the engorged purple head drew closer to his mouth, Spencer flicked out his tongue. Immediately, the sweetness of Tyler’s juices coated his taste buds with their slickness. Spencer could wait no longer. He slid the shaft between his lips and savored the sweaty meat and the waves of musk emanating from Tyler’s dark, thick bush.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Tyler muttered, his mouth still full of Justin’s cock.
“You like that?” Justin asked as he slammed his rod in and out of Tyler’s throat. “You like my man’s mouth on your cock?”
Tyler could only grunt yes. Justin’s unrelenting assault inside his mouth prevented any words from escaping.
Spencer watched as Justin pumped in and out of Tyler’s chops, his trimmed balls smacking loudly against Tyler’s chin. His frenzied movements caused Tyler to slurp and gag as Justin worked himself ever deeper inside Tyler’s throat.
The sight of his man losing himself in his pleasure and the taste of Tyler’s fleshy hardness caused his own cock to leak uncontrollably. He feared if he touched himself he would shoot his spunk all over Tyler’s leather couch.
As if sensing a load was about to be released without his personal assistance, Tyler crawled out from under Justin’s legs and came over to Spencer. His needy eyes and open mouth indicated he now wanted to return the pleasure Spencer had so freely given.
After sliding a condom over Spencer’s shaft, Tyler wrapped his warm hand around Spencer’s girth and guided the throbbing pole inside his waiting mouth, which stretched wide to accommodate his size. Tyler’s wide eyes, no longer vacant from his alcoholic buzz, indicated how much he wanted this to happen. His tongue immediately danced all around Spencer’s shaft until Tyler began to bob up and down on him, his velvety lips inching him dangerously close to climax. To prolong the occasion, Tyler pulled on his balls, adding a hint of pain that caused the escalating churn of release to subside.
On the other end, Justin buried his face inside Tyler’s hairy crack. His tongue rolled around and lapped at Tyler’s furry opening, causing Justin’s eyes to roll inside his head. Justin enjoyed few things more than eating a hot ass, and the wet smacks of his hungry mouth indicated he had moved far beyond the throes of passion. In response to Justin’s magical tongue, Tyler grunted and reached back with his free hand, shoving Justin’s face farther up his butt.
“Eat it,” Spencer commanded Justin. “Get his hole ready for you.”
“Yeah,” Tyler agreed. “Lube my ass real good. Open me up for you.”
Urged on by their commands, Justin feasted more eagerly while Tyler increased his suction on Spencer’s cock, which was slick with saliva. The excess spit coated his brown bush and ran in a steady stream down his balls before falling onto the couch. Determined to swallow his girth, Tyler relaxed his throat and took Spencer’s thick ro
d all the way to its hilt. Tears streamed down his face, which was red from the strain, but still he managed to use his throat muscles to massage Spencer’s tool.
“Your throat feels fucking great!” he told Tyler, who looked up at him appreciatively. He grabbed Tyler by his head and pushed himself even farther down Tyler’s gullet.
“I’m gonna fuck that ass now,” Justin announced from the other end. Spencer looked up and observed as Justin rolled a condom onto his cock before spitting four times into his palm. He then used it to further coat the rim of Tyler’s already dripping backdoor. He teased Tyler’s hole, rubbing his stiff member up and down his crack.
“Fuck me,” Tyler moaned. He took Spencer’s cock out of his mouth and looked back at Justin with pleading, wild eyes. “Fuck me hard!”
“Beg for it,” Justin demanded. “Beg for me to fuck your man pussy.”
“Fuck me,” Tyler begged. “Fuck my pussy like the whore I am.”
With no further urging required, Justin plunged into Tyler’s waiting ass in one swift motion. Tyler shouted; a mixture of pleasure and pain colored his voice. Still, his dreamy eyes told the truth. He was delighted to be filled at both ends.
Justin relentlessly hammered away in Tyler’s chute, gripping his ass and slamming him backward against him. Their bodies loudly slapped together as Tyler cried out in pleasure.
“Clench that ass,” Justin told him. “Grip my cock. Make your ass nice and tight.”
Tyler complied, bearing down as hard as he could while Spencer continued pumping in and out of Tyler’s mouth. Sweat now poured down his and Justin’s chest, snaking down their bodies to drench Tyler’s face and ass. Rivers of perspiration also ran between Tyler’s shoulder blades and the small of his back. In a frenzy, he worked both hard cocks in and out of his body, rocking back and forth like a ship in turbulent waters.
Spencer felt his balls churning. He was close. When he looked into Justin’s eyes, he saw in their faraway reflection Justin’s own impending release.
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