9781618856357HavingItAllStorm

by Troy Storm

  “Oh, yes! Good morning, mouth!” Hiking his hips into the air, the growling fully awake man thrust his butt into Chad’s laughing face. “Eat! Devour! Chow down!”

  “C’mon, dude.” The younger naked man dragged the older naked man off the bed and into the bathroom. “I’ve only got forty-five minutes before I’ve gotta show up for Home Room.” He turned on the water, tested the temperature and stepped in. Stephen followed, pressing into Chad’s back, reaching around to clumsily help him lather up.

  “Damn, you could have woken me up earlier,” he muttered into Chad’s wet ear as he rubbed his chest against the young coach’s back, and vigorously scrubbed his front. Planting his feet wider, he rotated his hips to rub the other curly pad over the grinning young man’s tight end. The muscular body stretched luxuriously in his arms.

  “Lucky I woke up. I forgot to set an alarm. Like I said, I’m not used to this fancy bedroom. You think Syble’s going to be jealous?”

  “I'll see to it. She is gorgeous when she’s mad. As a local chastened maitre de and a trying-to-be helpful cop can well attest.” His dick was hard. And anxious. Snuffling into the tight crack sluicing soapy warm water.

  “She’s never been mad at me. I don’t like mad.” He revolved in Stephen’s arms. “We can be different, right? Two guys who don’t get mad at each other?”

  He looked serious. Serious enough for Stephen to drop to his knees and thrust Chad’s hard cock into his mouth. Startled, the young man braced himself on the walls of the shower and threw his head back taking the soft, needling spray from the large, rainfall showerhead full face. It took Stephen exactly eighteen seconds to ingest his first gutful of sweet morning jizz.

  He stood, supporting the gratefully gasping Chad’s jelly-kneed, slow collapse.

  “If we ever get mad, we’ll think about this. Okay? And make up.” The trembling young god’s slick, wet, muscular body felt glorious in his firm grip. Syble’s soft womanliness felt glorious, too. What a woman, Stephen thought, to have found what they both seemed to need.

  She obviously loved being fucked senseless by the young stud. Stephen loved the feel of his body, too. Who knew? Chad was turning out to be the buddy Stephen had long longed for. Funny, excitable, serious, easily impressed by an older and more experienced dude, quick to take offense, quick to make up, and a top-notch work-out drill sergeant.

  “If you wanna,” Stephen rubbed his cheek stubble against his young lover’s lesser cheek stubble, behind him again, supporting the slowly restoring piece of human art, kneading his nipples to help with the recovery. “I can do it again right now to help you remember. Mad equals make up blowjob. We skip the mad part when we start to get testy and go straight to the make up part. Deal?”

  “Like every hour on the hour.” Chad roused himself from his delicious post-orgasmic stupor, breaking his Cheshire grin to turn and nip Stephen on the nose. “Man, I don’t quite get your reasoning sometimes but I am a sucker for your conclusions.” He reluctantly pulled away to step out of the shower and grab a towel.

  Stephen stood under the pouring, warm rainwater watching the wide shoulders, the muscular back, the narrow hips, the amazing ass, the thick thighs, and rock hard calves flexing and shifting as Chad dried himself and prepared to shave. Suddenly the older, more experienced man felt unsteady. This was going way too well. Would this…coming arrangement…really work?

  Chad caught sight of him in the mirror and quickly turned, razor in hand. His blue eyes fastened on the slumped man. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving her. I’m not leaving you.” He poked the razor under Stephen’s chin and tilted his wet face up. “And neither are you. Nobody’s going anywhere. She’s coming back and we’re all staying right here.” He squirted foam in his hand and spread it on his face. “It may get a little messy now and then, but, hey, like you said, make up time. We’ll make her sign up, too. Now stop freaking me out and go pour me some juice or something. Any breakfast bars left?”

  By the time Stephen got to the kitchen, he was feeling his old morning self. Slightly groggy but getting there. He hadn’t even known what had caused the moment of instability, but Chad had nailed it. So much for being the big mentoring dude. The kid was doing the bucking up. He liked that…well enough to attempt whistling—which Syble hated—as he cracked a couple of eggs into the hot skillet.

  “What are you doing?” Chad asked, hopping into the kitchen as he pulled on his freshly laundered sweats. He was already trussed up in fresh double jocks.

  “Cooking breakfast. What do you usually have?”

  “Man, that smells like ambrosia! What the hell is ambrosia, anyway?” He laughed, pulling a polo shirt from the dryer and stretching to yank it over his head. “I haven’t got time, Steve. But thanks…”

  “Three minutes to cook ham and eggs. Five minutes to eat it—you gotta chew your food. The high school is what? Fifteen minutes away? He tapped the clock on the stove. Leaves an extra five minutes for me to blow you again.” He opened a drawer and waved a pair of scissors. “I can cut you out of those stupid jock straps in ten seconds flat. And when I finish you won’t have to worry about popping a bone until you’re back here tonight.” He leaned back against the counter, legs crossed at the ankles, morning half-hard and low hangers thrust forward waiting for an answer. “Deal?”

  Now Chad looked suddenly insecure. He dropped into a chair at the table. “I’ve never stayed over before. My truck’s two blocks away…that blows the blowjob.” He leaned forward. “This is going to work out, right? We’re gonna make this thing work? Whatever the fuck this thing is. Right?”

  Stephen swung the plate of eggs with the slab of warmed ham in front of the young man. Chad gaped at the instant feast, quickly salted and peppered it, and dove in.

  “You never spent the night here before? Why is your truck parked so far away?” The cuckolded husband paused, figuring it out. “Oh. Thanks for not rubbing my nose in it publicly.” He ruffled the still damp crew cut. “You two really are pretty good guys. All things considered.” Chad looked up, chewing ravenously, searching Stephen's face. His reddened cheeks were better than an open book.

  “Tonight you park in the driveway.”

  Chad cocked his head. “You sure? I’ll be really late. I’ve got practice after school, then the game tonight. They’ll lose. I’ll be in a rotten mood. You sure? What will the neighbors…”

  “I can rub your nose in it by publicly dragging you here. And in the privacy of our bedroom I can work on…raising your mood. By the way, where do you live…usually?”

  Chad grinned, belly full, and hopped up to put his dishes in the sink. “Me and three other guys. It ain’t like the old frat house used to be.” He took a moment to flex contentedly, then faked a punch to Stephen’s midsection before continuing the gesture to reach down to yank his dick. “Not that I was ever in a frat.”

  “Damn. You, too? I had a share with four others in the city when I first came. I felt like a groggy flight attendant stuck on a really bad flight schedule with a dying airline. Goddamn bunk bed! Definitely not the old frat house days. And I was in a frat.”

  “Yeah,” Chad headed for the back door. “You struck me as the type. Classy. Smug. Good-looking. Hot.”

  Stephen felt his face flush. “T’anks. I needed dat,” he huffed, gruffly. “Can I come workout at lunchtime, again?”

  Chat turned, delighted. “You really want to? I thought yesterday you were just being…damn, man, that’d be great.” Automatically, he looked around to check the neighboring back yards, then reached in to give Stephen’s dick a farewell yank. “Don’t forget me.” And he was loping across the yard and out the back gate.

  Stephen watched him go, thinking, “Tonight, no more sneaking around.” Again, at the thought, he slid into the nearest kitchen chair, feeling slightly weak in the knees. He waited for his pulse to slow.

  “Well, what do you fucking know?” he muttered to himself. “What do you fucking know?” Syble had often put her hand on his
shoulder to buck him up, especially lately. He felt her warm palm now and automatically reached up…to feel his own skin.

  He rubbed the cap, thoughtfully. Thanks, lady, you were right. It’s nice to have a guy to talk to—his rueful, short laugh barked off the bright morning walls—and screw!

  With a whoop, he lunged up to start his day. “Yea, screwing!” He shadow-boxed his way out of the room. “Damn, Syb, babe. You sure know how to pick ’em!”

  * * * *

  The noon workout did not work out so well.

  The young coach set his older buddy exercising, then charged across the gym floor to berate a quartet of young men he had insisted come in and sharpen their skills for the evening game. For the half hour they had free during the lunchtime break, he snarled and threatened as they sweated and huffed, barely leaving them time to shower and race for the cafeteria before afternoon classes.

  Stephen wiped his brow and followed Chad into the coaches’ private shower area. Chad stripped and viciously twisted the knobs, letting the steaming spray needle his heaving torso as Stephen sat on a bench and watched.

  The hot water seemed to do its work. His glowering countenance softened.

  “I’d invite you in, but Coach Branfield is about as homophobic as they come—which I doubt he ever does anymore,” he added, snorting smugly. He caught Stephen’s look. “I’m a bastard, right?”

  Stephen nodded slowly. “I sure wouldn’t want to play in your yard.”

  “Those kids are such fucking losers.” The young coach’s wrath began to rise again as he shut off the water and yanked a towel from a nearby stack. “I don’t know what the hell it’s going to take…”

  “Yeah, I know all about losing.”

  “That’s different. You did your best. They—”

  “Losing is losing, doing your best or not. Sometimes it’s just not in the cards. But,” the older and wiser man shrugged, “I sure had a hell of a lot of fun along the way every now and then. Those guys don’t seem to be having a lot of fun.”

  “It’s not fun.” Chad’s blue eyes darkened as he scrubbed the terry cloth across his tense, muscular terrain, raising the color. “It’s hard work. If I don’t bring in at least one winning team…”

  “Ah, so it’s your loss?”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean…” Stephen tried a chuckle. “At least they’ll have the memory of having helped the assistant coach keep his job.”

  Chad stopped, mid-scrub, and stared at his new, older friend. Somewhere in the depths of the vast education complex, a series of bells sounded. “Uh…” He finished drying himself. “I gotta… I checked you out…between yells. Good work out.”

  Stephen smiled and prepared to go. “You know what the hell you’re doing, little buddy. If you don’t make it here, you’d make a great personal trainer. Anything I can help tuck away?” he asked, lasciviously.

  Chad grinned, too, finally, struggling into his twin jock straps. “Later you can tuck anything anywhere you wanna. If I’m not too dead.” The shadow of the imminent losing game returned to darken his briefly inviting, sexy face.

  Stephen looked around, then quickly pulled Chad into a tight embrace. “I don’t like seeing my young god unhappy.” He smartly smacked the young man’s butts.

  “Your what?”

  “Nothing. I’m off to drape all the mirrors in the house before I go to the library this afternoon.”

  “Young god?”

  Stephen kissed him soundly on the mouth.

  “What the hell!” Coach Branfield stalked heavily into the room.

  “Coach Parks had something in his eye. I think I got it out. Right, coach?”

  “Oh…” The heavyset man backed up. “Uh, it looked like…” He swallowed. His already red face flushed darker. “Sorry. I…who the hell are you?”

  “Gotta run.” Chad raced for the door. “Got a class. Meet my loser friend, Coach. You two can compare…losses.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I think he was talking about my having just lost my job and you two coaching losing teams.”

  Branfield shrugged and headed back to his office. “Hell, I don’t give a fuck if they win or lose. I’ve got tenure. It’s just Parks’ ass that’s on the line. Fuck ’em all,” he shouted, good-naturedly pumping his fist in the air. “Fuck the little bastards!”

  No, Stephen smiled to himself, no, just their young god coach would be more than enough for him.

  * * * *

  A few hours later, the older and much less wiser, recently-unemployed man, sat in the back yard, nursing a beer, looking grim.

  Syble had done a great job with the house. The plantings, the gardens, everything was in great shape and set the place off beautifully. They should get a decent price.

  He huffed quietly to himself, slugged down a shot of brew and wondered if she and Chad had also done it in the gardens. Humping among the hollyhocks? Zonking each other among the zinnias?

  His big hand closed over his fully aware crotch. He missed her. Right now, he missed the young dude who had messed up his life. Stephen sighed. He had already pretty much messed that up, anyway.

  But Syble had done it again. Saved their ass. More than once. And now added another saved butt. Mother Syble, Stephen mused, gathering to herself hot, hungry backsides that needed saving and presenting them to Stephen to save. Minister Stephen. Spread those cheeks, boys! Prepare to be injected with a shot of saving. Now go and be good.

  Until the next time he screwed up royally.

  Damn. He shook his head. How many beers had he had? That bunch at the library had really ripped his ass this afternoon. How was he gonna tell her?

  He roused himself, every bone aching, and went into the den.

  “Hi, Dragon Lady, it’s the lonely, deserted…”

  “Stephen, you know she said not to call until Thursday evening. The both of you.” The Dragon Lady gave a persnickety sniff. “You deserve everything you will get for what you’ve done to my daughter.”

  “Oh, Mother, can it.”

  “Syb, is that you? On an extension? Oh, babe, I miss you so much. The kid misses you, too. He’s working tonight. We both do. I just had to…sorry about calling…about breaking the rule, no, I’m not sorry at all. He’ll just have to learn not to trust me. Syb, I wanted you to know…it’s…is your mom still on the line?”

  “I am, Stephen. My bizarre little girl has told me all about how she’s planning to wreck her life. I am, of course, appalled. Two men? Well, of course, it would take two to make one decent male, that I can understand.” She humphed. “Oh, dear, I don’t even know what to call this…appalling…arrangement.”

  “Nothing is arranged, yet, Mother. We’re still…working on it. Stephen, thank you for being so understanding. You are the most wonderful husband.”

  An imperious huff was followed by a click as a phone was hung up.

  “She’s gone? Off for a quick shot of gin as a reward that she’s right?”

  Syble laughed. “Stephen, you know my mother loves you. And she’ll love Chad, too. She’s a sucker for dimples. DeDe’s taking a couple of days off. She’ll be here tomorrow, thank God. I thought with her here Mom would be more willing to listen. What did you want to tell me?”

  “I think it’s going to be okay, Syb. He’s a great guy, like you said. Too tough on his kids, but…it’s nice to have a buddy, again. It’s been a long time. ’Course, it’s only been a couple of days. We work out together. He’d make a great personal trainer. I…I thought you’d be glad to know. It’s going good.”

  There was a long silence, followed by a quiet sniff.

  “Oh, Stephen. I’m so glad. I was so worried. I was just sick that…”

  “Worried? You said you were sure…”

  “Oh, hush. It’s going to be wonderful. I knew it. I knew it! Have you two…gotten together?”

  “In our bed.”

  “Our bed? We never…”

&
nbsp; “I know. He told me. That was sweet of you. I figured if you wanted us to try it so badly, that would be the place that would make it work. Great bod. Makes me sick. But I can bring him to his knees.”

  “Oh, Stephen! I’m thrilled! That’s great. I knew you two would be great together. You just needed to give it a chance. I knew it. I just knew it! I was right to leave you alone to work it out. You men. You are so…you just have to do things your own way.”

  “I love you, Syb. And Chad loves you, too. He doesn’t know it, yet, not really, but I can see it in his eyes. Good eyes. He’s got a lot of possibilities. We’ll just have to shape him up. One day he’ll wake up and be really grateful.”

  “You’re gonna make me cry.”

  “Call you day after tomorrow, babe. Love you. ’Bye.”

  “Oh, Stephen, thank you so much for not paying any attention about calling. You know me so well. Oh, wait! What about the library? How are things working… Stephen… Darn, he’s gone.”

  Stephen silently held the phone to his ear until she hung up.

  He replaced the receiver.

  There was no need to tell her about the library.

  She’d know soon enough.

  * * * *

  God, the house was empty.

  Stephen picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Andy, this is Mr. Thornton. I’m sorry things went so badly this afternoon. You know I think you and the girls have done an amazing job.”

  Silence at the other end of the line. “Yeah? You got a weird way of showing it.”

  “Well, maybe it’ll go better tomorrow with Coach Parks there to run interference.” Although Stephen doubted seriously if Andy was impressed by sports references.

  He wasn’t. “Is that why you called? You coulda been a little more helpful. You coulda stood up more for us instead of letting old lady Abernathy walk all over us. I betcha she’s never tried to do anything this important.”

  “Yeah, I know, Andy. I’m still feeling my way. I’ve been thinking seriously about the so-called problems and tomorrow I thought…”