by Troy Storm
* * * *
Chad lay on the sofa-bed in the den, arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, lightly bouncing his butt. He knew he should be thinking how cool he was to be in the middle of all this stuff. Man, if his kids only knew. Well, no. They probably wouldn’t give a shit one way or the other. Teenagers were usually too busy thinking about themselves to really pay much attention to how grown-ups might be screwing up their own lives, unless it directly affected the little heathens themselves.
Considering his current situation, though, he wasn’t screwing up so much as getting screwed. Or rather not. There had been plenty of screwing the last couple of weeks. Now there wouldn’t be any.
He pulled his hands from behind his head and dropped his arms to cuddle his dick in his hands. He pressed lightly and the flesh began to fill. Always a satisfying feeling. He wondered what it would be like to be forty or fifty, or even older. How the hell old was that guy? Stephen. Would everything still work? Down there? Anywhere, for that matter? His old man and his mom sure as hell didn’t seem to be getting any these days. Or if they did it was such poor quality the high for sure didn’t last past their getting out of bed. It sure wasn’t very evident when he went on one of his rare visits. No love lost there. Thanks, folks.
Syble packed a wallop that could carry him through thirty-six solid hours of rampaging teens and crazed adults driving him totally nuts.
His fingers tightened against the burgeoning heaviness. Gripped it like Syble’s cunt gripped it. Hard. Milking the cum right out of his gonads. Clutching him. Making him feel he was something fucking special. That he fucked special.
He snickered and wiggled his body against the sheet covering the rubber mattress and foam topper. He and Syble had done it here, too. On this den couch. They sure hadn’t taken the time to unfold it, either. Sometimes they didn’t even make it that far; they had just hit the floor fucking.
He could satisfy her. One time li’l ole overweight nerd Chadford could now satisfy a woman like a woman needed to be satisfied and make him feel like the stud bucket he had worked like a fucking work horse to become. And what a woman.
No wonder old Stevie was ready to tear his guts out.
He liked the fact the outdoor security lights bled through the sliding glass doors into the den. Just in case the wounded husband decided to try to sneak in and chop his nuts off or bash his head in.
Suddenly he was a lot more awake than he had been. He tugged. Yeah, his nuts were still there.
He couldn’t really blame Stephen. If it had been him…
God. His stomach flopped over.
He gave a huff of resignation and made a resolution. He would try to be buds with the guy. That was a huge deal with Syble. But, man, the dude was old. Like a way older brother you never had anything to do with and suddenly he was back in your face. They had nothing in common. Nothing. Except his wife.
He felt his abs and ran his hands over his chest. Nice definition. Chad did half a dozen crunches on the bed, then flopped back, hands behind his head again, stretching his legs, feeling the thighs and calves bunch and release powerfully, like a well-oiled machine.
He grinned at well-oiled, then felt the grin slowly evaporate.
The set-up was not what he had expected, not that he had expected anything, really. He lived pretty much in the moment, sex-wise, not too unlike his students. It usually didn’t do him a lot of good to think too far ahead. One game at a time.
If you could get it, get it. And get it good. If you couldn’t, don’t sweat it ’cause sweating it would usually get you nothing but grief.
Learning that had put him into his twenties fairly well supplied with enough boffing to get him over the initial horror that probably inflicts every guy when he first starts doing it. Am I doing it right? Too hard? Too fast? Too controlled? Too…what the fuck ever?
Syble was the first time…ever…he didn’t even remember thinking any of those things.
That must be what they call love, he guessed.
It sure as hell was the most fantastic sex he had ever had. From the very first time when his mind went blank and he knew he just had to have her, to the last time, before her husband came back and there was something different going on.
Whatever it was, Stevie Baby or no Stevie Baby, he wasn’t giving her up. Even if he had to fight the guy. He didn’t think Stephen would really chop his nuts off. Not literally. And the guy did have a punch. But he pulled ’em. And Chad didn’t particularly like the idea of fighting an older guy. Still, he was new to this kind of set-up. This threesome thing. And even though Syble had said she wanted them to be buddies…and…the other stuff…the intimate stuff…
Chad suddenly sat up. He swung his legs off the bed. Sweating.
Where was that robe Syble had left him?
Wonder if there was any of that meat left? That filet stuff.
Man, that was good.
* * * *
Syble hugged her knees, the covers thrown off. Thinking.
An entire week with her mother. Whom she loved dearly, but who could be totally overwhelming in her oh-here’s-a-great-chance-to-help-my-daughter mode. Maybe she could talk DeDe into letting the homeless hordes that caring Mom looked after fend for themselves for just a couple of days, and they all could spend some quality time together helping Syble define exactly how she was going to have her cake and eat it, too.
She giggled to herself. And be eaten. She squeezed her knees. Like a kid. A nervous kid.
In a candy store.
Having it all.
Or more aptly defined, she thought, slowly lying back down and stretching her legs luxuriously wide on top of the soft comforter, a lioness strolling through a meat market filled with counters full of Stephens and Chads in various states of readiness.
Now what was so wrong with that?
They were willing.
Or, to put it another way, which they had, very definitively, they weren’t willing to give her up either. Either one of them.
Which was good, because…
Syble took a deep breath, momentarily distracted. She had really bitten off a chunk this time. The responsibility thing with the kids. The having to explain, and she would have to explain, eventually, even if she herself wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, what was in her head—or her groin, or not in her groin—what she was determined was going to be fine. Eventually.
The kids might not understand. The adults definitely wouldn’t.
But she would figure it out. Odd, there was no feeling that it was an impossible situation. Heaven knows, they wouldn’t be the first to try for an atypical relationship. How many TV shows were there now extolling the virtues of happy weird family-hood? That came right into the sacred living rooms of this sainted suburb? Theirs would be just an unusual situation for its current inhabitants. Although, truth to tell, who knew what might be going on behind closed doors all around them on the well-maintained streets of CoveHaven? Right now. Who knew what combinations might be in effect? CoveHaven Combinations. New sitcom. Reality show. No. Sitcom.
With a very fake laugh track.
Syble stroked her neck and her breasts and sighed. She just wanted them all to be happy. She and Stephen and Chad. All three of them. At the same time. In the same bed.
Pretty platitudinous. But that’s what she wanted.
She loved Stephen dearly. Deeply and devotedly. They had a history that was precious and meaningful. She loved Chad. He was fresh and new and exciting. Like she and Stephen had been when they first met. Inevitable. Like magnets. But he wasn’t Stephen. He was himself. And he made her feel like she had never felt with Stephen. Not the sex part, she quickly amended. That was always great and amazing, with the both of them. But add Chad and it was…different, like quantum physics. Everything is wonderful, working fine, but add something new, some newly discovered element or combination of elements, and the universe is suddenly even more amazing. More perfect.
More puzzling.
And
with this fantastic, newly discovered element, on the solidity of the relationship they had built together, she and Stephen would build an even more wonderful family with Chad.
With a laugh track. A real one. Recorded live.
She exhaled slowly.
Satisfied.
And let her hands, both of them, glide gently over her hips to between her legs.
And then, reluctantly, pulled them away.
It didn’t seem fair. She had told the guys no sex. Not with her. Not until she got back. At least not tonight. It didn’t seem quite right that she should enjoy herself, presaging their life to come, when she had banished them from her.
She squirmed on the bed, wide awake.
Maybe a cup of hot tea. It would just make her pee more, she groused, and she’d be up a couple more times tonight. But maybe not. Maybe it would help her relax and she could go back to bed dreaming of the two magnificent men in her life, pleasuring her, fulfilling her, filling her in every way.
And themselves.
Or maybe not. She had to admit she was a little fuzzy about what guys might do to each other, having sex. She had had a couple of close gay friends, but they had never exactly shown her diagrams, and she hadn’t felt the necessity for first hand knowledge.
Until now. And it wouldn’t be exactly gay, anyway; it would be a threesome. Two guys and a girl. Two men and a woman. All equal. All…
With a tiny snort, Syble shoved herself up and off the bed and reached for a robe.
Everything was going to be wonderful.
Yeah, and she still believed in the tooth fairy too.
* * * *
“The tooth fairy?” Chad chuckled, leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen, a spoon poised over the carton of ice cream he was slowly devouring.
“Yes.” Stephen smiled across the kitchen table in the breakfast alcove at a slightly disgruntled Syble sipping her tea. “She says nobody ever makes a big deal about there not being one, like they do with Santa Claus or God, but the money always just magically appears under her pillow, so maybe there really is one.”
“That’s pretty…” Chad caught her glare. “Um, clever reasoning. And, you,” he nodded toward Stephen, “never get any coin from the old tooth girl, yourself, huh? I mean, if you did, that would mean Syb would have to put it there and since she believes…”
Stephen laughed. “You’re not gonna win. Syb says the old girl, who, by the by, to her is a hunky guy with wings, sort of, she found on a Vallejo calendar once—he just needs a little help sometimes, especially with grown-ups, since he’s usually busy doling out the loot to the kiddies.”
“And since the tooth stud always leaves something for Syb, obviously then, he really is. Right?”
“You got it.”
“And you would never tell her you left her something just to keep her believing in the guy?”
“Not and live.”
Syble snorted.
“And this hunky guy comes and visits you in the middle of the night too?”
“I found my own way-overbuilt Vallejo broad with a pair of butterfly wings and she’s the guy’s assistant. She services the guys.”
“So pairing up hot couples runs in the family, huh?” Chad grinned, depositing the empty carton in the sink and wiping his mouth with a tea towel.
“’Pears to,” Stephen smiled, noticing out of the corner of his eye, Syble’s chagrin at the use of her fine linen. He knew they were both thinking the same thing, wondering if Chad had the slightest idea how guileless he appeared.
She glanced at Stephen and he felt she could see the dawning awareness in his eyes, his realization of how innocently direct Chad was. He was thinking how the sex must be great, sure—look at the both of them. But Chad was so…out there. His jokes were lobbed like stand-up grenades. His hurt was instantaneous. His forgiveness complete. His joy and his sorrow full-throated. When his teams lost he couldn’t be more stricken. When they won, or rather, if they ever were to win, Stephen could imagine his unbounded glee.
Like he and Syble had been when they first started out. Innocent. Open. Honest with each other. When the sex had been fantastic. Not just great, but life altering. Maybe…just maybe the young coach could help them find that place again.
“We all need to get to bed.” Syble pushed herself up from the table, putting the last of the empty ice cream containers in the garbage. They were scraped clean. Whatever had been left, Chad had devoured. And most of the other contents of the refrigerator.
It’s like feeding a Saint Bernard, Stephen thought, pushing his chair out and getting up. Or, perhaps he should conjure something more predatory to clean out their larder. Like a jock jackal. A laughing hyena who had stolen his woman. He shook his head, bemused. He hadn’t even noticed there was almost nothing worth eating in the fridge last weekend. So much for his vaunted powers of observation.
They could have been doing it in the garden while he was taking a shower or out having his hair cut, for all he would have noticed.
Stephen yawned, trying to ignore the faint rays of light that seemed to be breaking into the black hole in the pit of his stomach. He was even getting used to the taste of hot milk. Maybe things were looking up. The kid wasn’t bad considering he was a lying, cheating, wife-stealing bastard. Still he had a certain amount of raw, bumbling charm. And he sure as hell filled out Stephen’s favorite bathrobe well, he noted, wryly.
He shrugged and kissed Syble soundly on the mouth.
Chad hurried to do likewise.
And must have added some extra tongue just in case the old bastard glaring at him was keeping score. Syble smirked over Chad’s shoulder. At least it wasn’t a schoolgirl sickly swoon.
He relaxed his jaw. Just when he was beginning to think Chad might possibly be an okay guy, the dumb jock would do something dumb like the tongue thing to rile him and that just got to be fucking tedious. Although he could understand. Sort of.
To be having a two a.m. snack with the guy who had been—was—sleeping with his wife and not drive a steak knife through the guy’s heart. In fact, even being kind of decent about the whole thing. That took guts…or was so totally stupid as not to be believed. At least Chad seemed to be just as puzzled as Stephen felt.
Chad rubbed his arms briskly, yawned and reached for Stephen’s hand.
Stephen, startled, moved to return the handshake.
Syble moved between them.
She gave Stephen a hug and Chad a hug. Looked at them and waited.
They all three hugged each other.
Badly.
Chapter Six
The silver tube glided down the silver rails tracing a serpentine path until it had vanished from sight into the surrounding countryside. Stephen and Chad seemed rooted to the platform, watched the empty distance.
Syble had caught an early morning commuter into the city where she would take an Amtrak to her mom’s. And maybe spend a day or two with her sis who was a few more hours away. She would be back Sunday.
Today was Monday.
They had seven days.
“I guess I should go. I’ve got an early class,” Chad said.
“Right.” They started for the parking lot. “Got time for a cup of coffee?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess we could have it back at the house. We have to pick up your truck there, anyway.”
“Sounds good.”
They drove in silence.
Stephen poured the coffee, brewed too late for Syble to have a cup. She could fuel up on the train. Chad stared bleakly into the depths of the dark liquid presented to him.
“How do you take it?”
“Couple of sugars. Milk. Please.”
Stephen did as he was instructed, then poured milk into his own cup.
“How does Syble drink hers?” Chad asked.
“Same way. More milk. Didn’t you guys ever eat together much? Or were you too busy screwing?”
“No, quite frankly, how she drinks her coffee was
not uppermost in my mind most of the time. Maybe your problem was that it was in yours.”
“Toast?” Stephen snarled. “Got time?”
“Yeah. Any jelly? Juice?”
“Don’t you know what’s in the refrigerator? You can get it yourself.”
“I know there’s no more steak.” He took a gulp of coffee and nodded. “Just right. Hey! Maybe they’re hiring at Starbucks?” Stephen glared. “What do we do about dinner? I have practice after school. Then I guess we should meet with the kids at the library.”
“I’m going to the library this afternoon to get briefed by Abernathy and that Spanish lady, Lopez, before the kids get out of school. That Andy guy isn’t on any of your teams, is he?”
“Not likely. We don’t have a Lard League.”
“You don’t like kids much, do you?”
Chad looked up. Stephen was startled at how blue his eyes were in the early morning light. Really blue.
“Sorry, you’re right. That was uncalled for. Andy’s okay. But he sure as hell could lose a few pounds. So could you.”
“Bet you’d like to rip it off me with your bare hands.”
“I would. Nah. What a thing to say. It’s true I hate your guts, but only if Syble tells me I can.”
“You really like my wife…” Stephen’s resigned sigh was a long time coming. “You like Syble. A lot.”
Chad nodded at his rippling refection in the coffee. “Best thing ever happened to me.”
“I sure as hell second that. No, I mean, I got her first…” Another long pause as Stephen scrutinized the color of the liquid in the cup he was cradling in his hands. “She’s the best thing ever happened to me, too.”
The toast popped. Chad hopped off the stool he had been perched on. “I gotta move my ass.” Stephen quickly buttered and jellied the toast and poured the young man juice.
“None for you?”
“I’ve got plenty of time.” Stephen looked around at the empty house.
“How do we work this out?” Chad chomped into the toast. “Do we, like, make out a lesson plan?” He snorted. “Who fucks who when.”