by Troy Storm
“You ever been fucked?”
“Wait a minute! That was a joke. I mean, she doesn’t expect us to…?”
“I don’t think she ‘expects’ anything other than we had damn well better be good buddies by the time she gets back. Good enough to…Good enough to…” It was really hard to imagine the kid in bed with him and Syble.
“Yeah.” Chad finished bolting his food and put his dishes in the sink. “I’ll see you at the library.” He grabbed his gym bag.
“We’ll work on our term paper together. How to Make Friends with Your Wife’s Lover.”
“Fuck you.”
Stephen grabbed the young man and yanked him into a near-painful mouth-to-mouth connection. Chad staggered backwards, eyes wide with terror.
“Have a good day at the office, honey,” Stephen cooed through clinched teeth. “I’ll be waiting in my little apron.”
Chad gulped and blanched. “She told you about the apron?”
“What apron?” Stephen looked puzzled.
The young man’s face instantly clouded. “Fuck you…asshole!”
“I’m counting on it.”
The door slammed.
Stephen looked thoughtful. “Counting on being…or counting on doing? Syble would know. She’s a librarian.”
* * * *
Halfway through third period, the assistant coach’s cell phone vibrated in his sweatpants. Annoyed, he checked the number and instantly his face lighted.
“I’ll take this in the hall. Keep working on those test questions,” he barked to his class, racing through the door. He snapped the small instrument open, suddenly realizing. “Fuck!”
“Bend over, sweet ass, I’m ready.”
“Dammit! At first, I thought it was your wife! Why the hell are you calling me in school?”
“I’m sitting in a god damn empty house waiting to talk about sex with giggling teenagers and their horrified parents tonight, and then jump into bed with the guy who’s been fucking my wife of ten years! Goddammit, I’m a mover and shaker, not a fucking loser. I’m fucking lonely here eating my guts out.”
“You could afford to lose a few meals worth of guts. Come on over, old man, we’ll work out during my lunch break.”
“Work out? Couldn’t we just have a couple of peanut butter sandwiches under an old oak tree and talk about the big game? Work out! Jeez.”
“I work out whenever I can. Otherwise, I’d strangle the little darlings. Be here in twenty minutes.” He snapped the phone shut and charged back into his classroom. “Who threw that? Hoskins? Charlene? I’ll have you all on the floor giving me twenty! You’ve got ten seconds to squeal!”
* * * *
“You’re a tough son of a bitch,” Stephen noted, watching Chad’s class shove past each other to get out of his classroom as fast as they could.
“I tried being nice. They ran over me like herd of buffalo.”
“Maybe there’s some middle ground.”
“Yeah, like maybe I could have her on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and you could have her on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Sundays she could rest her…” He bit his tongue. “Rest. That way we’d never have to see each other.”
“Teaching does not make you a happy camper.”
“You should see me as a coach. Compared, I’m Teacher of the Decade.”
The pre-lunch workout had exhausted Stephen. The cafeteria food was surprisingly acceptable. Their after-lunch shooting-the-breeze under the old oak tree—Chad didn’t want to hang out in the smoke-filled Teachers Lounge—hadn’t produced any major new conflicts. And they had easily glossed over the coming evening. All things considered, Stephen was feeling rather benign for the first time since that damned commuter train had disappeared down the tracks this morning, carrying Syble out of his life—just when he needed her most—for the first time since the career he had worked so hard to save had been kicked out from under him. For the first time since he had been told—had realized—that the one person he loved more than life itself didn’t love him the way she used to.
But she did still love him. She had said so.
He had an hour to kill before the town library opened mid-afternoon and Chad had nonchalantly asked him to stick around the school. The more he could learn about the kid, the better chance he might get ammunition to undermine him. Stephen was a lot older and had a lot more experience in deception. Or self-delusion.
Chad wasn’t a bad teacher, he had noted as he watched a class. He knew his subject, that particular one being The Democratic Process. But he was a rotten disciplinarian. Mean. Short-tempered. Not at all the hesitant, bumbling young guy with a certain kind of klutzy charm he was with Stephen and Syble.
Interesting, thought Stephen. But not really his problem.
It was time to get away from the assistant coach for a while.
“See you later,” Stephen said as the classroom emptied. He started for the door, before suddenly turning and giving the startled teacher a manly hug.
“What the hell? And what the hell was that all about this morning at the house when you…”
“I’m just trying to see what she sees in you. So far,” he shook his head from side to side slowly. “Your boyish charm eludes me.”
“My boyish manhood is going to be rammed up your tight old ass tonight and we’ll see how that eludes you,” Chad hissed, his boyish cheeks red.
Stephen flinched. “Touché. I’ll see you at the sex talk tonight.”
He flinched again. Man, his ass did feel tight.
* * * *
Both guys were hyper.
The session at the library that evening with the kids and the volunteers had gone amazingly well.
“That kid, Andy, and the girls…their presentation is going to blow the school board into the next school district,” Chad enthused.
Stephen popped the pizza they had picked up on the way home into the oven and chuckled. “I told them to cool it just a tad. We don’t need quite so many Playboy or Playgirl pictures to make our points. Don’t want to cause any heart attacks. Do you know any of the board members?” He pulled his shirt out of his pants and began to unbutton it. “Maybe you can sound them out on how far the kids should go Thursday. Don’t want to cause such a big ruckus they won’t let us keep moving forward to get the word out to the moms and pops.”
“Fat Boy is still hoping for a Town Meeting with all the bad girls and all the suspect guys on stage, giving their versions. Like Roshaman.”
“Andy sees too many classic movies.” Stephen tossed his shirt aside and pulled his T-shirt out of his pants while checking his notes. “What exactly is the word with the girls? Is what Meredith and Francine told us true?” Syble would want to know everything, detail by detail.
Chad settled onto a stool at the counter unplugging his size ten sneakers. “Seems like it. They texted all the tainted ones, even the ones already spirited away to ‘grandma’s’, and screen-captured everything. Apparently none of them want to have the kids. A couple are pretty hysterical.”
“Oh, man, that’s heavy. What about the parents?”
“They’re all hysterical. All four sets.”
“And two of the guys are willing?”
“Yeah.” Chad snorted. He shoved his thumbs into his sweats and shoved the loose fleece down to expose the top of his underwear. “Duh. Only if it’s my kid, of course,” he droned in a dumb-ass jock voice. “Y’know, DNA, stuff? Right? Uh. Havin’ a kidud be kinda cooool.” His eyes rolled as he hopped off the stool to strip off his school jersey and pull his sweatpants back up tidily before suddenly thumbing them down and off.
Stephen stared. “What are you doing?”
Chad caught himself. “Uh…throwing my stuff in the machine. Sorry. I…usually come straight from practice and…”
“Jesus, man.” Stephen leaned forward frowning, as if assessing a side of Grade triple-A raw beef. “You are built like a sonofabitch. Do you work out all the fucking time? And what the fuck are you wearin
g?” He peered even closer as the young coach reddened and backed up. “Two jock straps? Jesus Christ!”
“There are a lot of hot chicks in that high school.” Chad held his ground, yelling. “I don’t wanna get caught…acting inappropriately. That damn job means a lot to me! You,” he sneered, pulling himself to full height, “have probably forgotten what it’s like to feel horny. Old man!”
“And you,” Stephen shot back, advancing and pounding his finger against the young man’s hard breastbone, “obviously need a fucking metal jock strap to keep that damn thing parked where it belongs! OW!” He waved his injured hand, still recuperating from bashing the windshield. “Goddammit!” he bellowed, grabbing at Chad before realizing there was nothing to grab for…except Chad.
The phone rang. The landline. Stephen whirled and grabbed for the wall phone in the kitchen with his left hand, while reluctantly motioning Chad with his head toward the den.
“Hi ya, babe,” he grumbled after double checking the caller I.D. “Oh, God, Sybie, I miss you. Come home, now. Tell the Dragon Lady you can’t stay away, you…”
“It’s me here, Syb! Chad! I’m on the den phone. Hi ya, beautiful! This is great! I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“Didn’t Stephen tell you I was going to call?” The sound of her voice caused instant groans.
“I didn’t get a chance,” Stephen lamely groused, as he carefully tested the latest damage to his healing hand. “She called after we picked up the pizza,” he glumly explained his gaff to Chad. “On my cell phone. When you were talking to the coach on yours. She wouldn’t just talk to me. She wanted to talk to us both at the same time, so she warned me she was gonna call later. I didn’t…I forgot to tell you. Sorry,” he mumbled.
His voice perked up, now reporting to her. “We were discussing the library thing just now, Syble. You’re a bad wife, wifey. Not telling your old man about all the stuff you and this guy and the kids and the ladies were getting into. You’re gonna get a paddling when you get home. If the school board doesn’t give it to you, first.”
“Jesus.” the young coach groaned. “Paddling. That’s cute.”
The older man gave a satisfied deep-throated chuckle. There were still some private intimacies between him and Syble that hadn’t been shared. Maybe the last ten years weren’t wholly wiped out. Maybe there was still a chance to sneakily bust up this nonsense.
“Did you take him down to the basement to show him the chains?” Syble playfully asked.
“How the hell did you live with this guy all these years without me to protect you?” Chad broke in, annoyed.
“Where are you two?”
“In the kitchen. We just got in.” Chad answered
“And have you done the washer thing? You know, just walking in and stripping down.”
“Uh…yeah…without thinking, I…we were, like he said, busy talking…”
“Are you two naked?”
“Mr. Way Too Many Muscles practically is.” Stephen grumbled grimly. “Syb, it must be like going to bed with a pile of rock. Two jock straps! How do you…?”
“So you two haven’t done it, yet?”
“Done…?” Chad and Stephen asked together.
Silence.
“Stephen? You said ‘practically’. Chad?”
“Yeah?”
“The jock straps still on?”
“Uh huh.”
“Take ‘em off, Chad. Put them in the washer.”
Reluctantly, Chad did as he was told. His eyes on Stephen.
“Christ Almighty, Syble. That’s almost disgusting.” Stephen groaned.
Chad’s face turned fierce. He grabbed for the nearest piece of cloth to cover himself.
“I didn’t realize you were such a size queen…what the hell is that thing?” Stephen continued with Syble.
“What’s going on?”
“He just tried to cover up with that…that see-thru apron. Did you two play…?”
“Drop ’em, Stephen.”
“What?”
“Whatever you’re wearing. Now. I’ll wait. Everything, Stephen.”
Very reluctantly, he did as he was told, holding on to the phone, slowly unbuckling his belt, unzipping his trousers, pushing them down to his ankles, taking a pause as his young rival closely scrutinized his bulging boxer briefs. Carefully, he peeled the underwear from his crotch with one hand and pushed the garment down, releasing himself. His lower torso squirmed as he kicked his clothes free of his feet. Finally, his lower half fully exposed, he stretched his legs wide and pulled at the massive meat and dangling sack underneath, airing the freed organs.
“Holy Shit,” the young coach breathed, almost voiceless.
“Now, Chad, you know what you’ve got to live up to,” she said smartly. “Okay, I’m ready to hear about this afternoon. Is the presentation going be ready by Thursday? Andy emailed me about the girls’ wanting an abortion. That might cause a problem. We’ve got some really hard-nosed…”
“Holy Mother Shit.” Chad found his voice, still staring.
“Chad, shut your mouth, which I can imagine is hanging pretty far open by now, and pay attention. You’re going to need to stretch those jaw muscles later. Stephen, are you still there? Talk.”
Somewhat smugly, Stephen explained the latest developments. Some she had already heard from Andy’s emails. Both the men’s excitement grew about the upcoming board meeting until it was interrupted by a lush three-cheesy smell filling the kitchen, started up with the mouth-watering odor of re-heated meat.
“What’s that banging sound,” Syble asked.
He had tried to open the oven quietly.
“Our pizza’s ready.” Stephen hated to end the conversation.
She knew Chad had a game tomorrow night. She’d call on Wednesday, or would they rather she call after the board met on Thursday? Yes, she decided before they could answer. She would have them call her on Thursday. No, no! They implored. Let them call her earlier. No. She was very proud of them and the kids and knew they could pull it off without her. Andy would email the presentation. She’d see what the Dragon Lady thought and DeDe. Unless something major needed to be discussed before, she’d talk to them right after they met with the school board and get the details of their reaction. No matter how late. She’d wait up. No email, she wanted to be able to talk to them. Both. To hear their voices. She sent them both wet kisses over the wire and hung up.
Leaving them exposed and empty in the aroma-filled kitchen.
Stephen noted the bereft look on the young man’s face as he forlornly appraised the dead instrument in his hand, which soon came to life to annoyingly beep and robotically demand to be hung up.
He really, really misses her. The thought kept intruding as he watched Chad glumly return the phone to the den. Stephen remembered the devouring look on the young man’s face when Syble rose naked, dripping, a more fully-figured Botticelli from the bath. His dilated eyes didn’t only drill into her exposed pussy, lushly beckoning with its diamond drops—though they certainly devoured what they saw—they also devoured the rest of her amazing body, sucking in the images, digitizing, imbedding in his brain her opulent breasts, her moist hips, her raised arms, firm and rounded, her intent face—they lingered wonderingly on her face for a long moment. Then dropped to her legs, savoring the rolling curve of her thighs, the firm flesh of her calves, even her perfect feet. Then back again.
The kid could at least appreciate. He could yearn. He could miss. The ache in his blue, blue eyes was a look Stephen could identify with from the pit of his stomach.
The kid…wasn’t a kid. He was a young, overly muscled stud dude totally infatuated with a sex-goddess woman…
…that had once belonged totally to Stephen alone and now was…
…a shared treasure.
Stephen’s empty stomach contracted…then slowly turned inside out, making him aware of every painful muscle contraction…until, as his mind kicked in…it archly resettled into its normal configuration�
��ready to be filled.
“Let’s eat,” he said, carrying the pizza to the table as they dinged their prodigious dongs across the room, each now noticeably attracting surreptitious inspection by the other.
“Can we have a beer?”
“Sure. One. Best not to be too full when…”
Chad popped the tops and licked his lips, nervously. “When,” he echoed, resigned, and took a long, gulping swallow.
The wooden kitchen chair scraped as Stephen pulled it out to take a seat. He bit into the cheeses, tomato, pepperoni and olives, tonguing up the mélange to coat his taste buds.
When…
The moment of reckoning loomed.
They both ate too fast, three slices apiece, then suddenly realizing it was a one-beer event, slowed down to savor the last few bites and swallows.
Chad pushed his chair back from the table, momentarily relaxed, an ankle resting on a knee. The transparent apron draped over his crotch obscured nothing. He thoughtfully chewed.
“I think we should give ourselves half an hour to digest,” Stephen announced.
Chad nodded slowly. “I checked a few porn sites this afternoon.”
“At the high school? They weren’t blocked?”
“They are, except Coach Branfield is on the sex instruction list, so his computer isn’t.”
“And…?”
“Gay guys. Mostly. Most of their stuff is free. Y’know? Previews. To get you to join.”
“Learn anything?”
“They really go at it, don’t they? Even the bi guys.” He was sweating slightly, absently running his hands over his dampening body. Being sure it was still holding together. He stood and walked around the kitchen. “Some of it looked…ass stuff. Do they always do that? Fuck each other? Man, they seemed to really have a good time doing that.”
“I have no idea what they always do. None of the gay guys I know blab about bed. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
“Yeah. Well, I might not be,” Chad scowled, confronting him, hands on hips. “Smart mouth.”
Stephen lunged for his dick and yanked. Chad yelled in shock and grabbed the older man’s shirt to pull him into the middle of the room and swing him onto the floor. Stephen caught the muscled legs and brought the crouched pile of muscles down. They tussled, grunting and cursing, Chad trying for a good hold with Stephen’s shirt and undershirt preventing him.