by Sarina Bowen
He answers on the second ring, his familiar voice sliding into my ear. “Yo.”
“So how’d she take it?” I demand.
“As expected.”
“Freaked out and slapped you, you mean?”
A heavy sigh echoes on the line. “Pretty much. She accused me of stringing her along for four years. I reminded her we were only going out for one, and then she called me an insensitive fucktard and stormed out.”
“Shit. Sorry, man. You doing okay?”
“Oh yeah. Never realized how high maintenance that chick was until I set her loose. Just enjoying my freedom now, taking a page out of the Ryan Wesley playbook and screwing anything that walks.”
“Next year that won’t be my playbook.”
He’s silent for a second. “You going to try to keep your extracurriculars on the DL?”
“I think I have to keep it zipped up instead. A rookie can’t afford rumors. At school… That was just different. The stakes were lower.”
“Yeah. I guess so. Sorry, man. Sounds lonely.”
I try to laugh it off. “Sounds horny.”
“You’d better have some fun this summer, before you’re all famous and shit.” Cassel laughs at his own humor.
“I’ll get right on that.”
“How is the pickup scene in Lake Placid? Can’t imagine there’s a gay bar there. You’ll have to turn a jock or two.”
My stomach shimmies. If only I hadn’t already tried that. “I’d better go,” I say. Because I’m really not fit for conversation today.
“Good talking to you, man.”
“Stay strong if Em calls,” I warn.
“Don’t worry.” He sighs. “I will.”
19
Jamie
I glance at the door for the hundredth time in ten minutes. Just, you know, to make sure little gremlins didn’t crawl out of some air vent and unlock it. But nope, still locked.
It feels like I’m doing something wrong. Like I just dipped my hand in the cookie jar when my mom turned her back to me. But maybe I’m being too hard on myself. There’s nothing wrong with looking at porn. I’m a red-blooded, twenty-two-year-old man. I’m not a virgin. I’m not a prude. Just a guy trying to figure out what his kinks are.
Sighing, I lean back against the pillows, my laptop positioned on my thighs as I scroll through the thumbnails on the screen. I hover over one of the images, which shows a preview of what I can expect. All right. Seems okay.
I click on the title: Hot jocks suck ’n fuck.
Did I mention I’m browsing gay porn?
Yep, I’m a filthy liar—I told Wes I was taking a nap, and look at me now.
A breath shudders out of my chest as the video loads. It’s a short clip, and it starts splat in the middle of a scene from whatever movie the site pulled the clip from. I’ve got the sound turned down low, but I can hear every word loud and clear. Well, just one of the dudes is talking. The other guy is only capable of wet slurps and deep moans as he goes to town on the first guy’s dick.
“Fuck yeah…oh fuck yeah…suck that big cock…”
Okay, that’s just cheesy. I laugh as I imagine myself ordering Wes to “suck that big cock”.
Next clip. This one’s not doing it for me.
I click on something labeled Poolside fuck. Sounds promising. I like pools and I like fucking. Can’t go wrong with that, right?
“You like that big dick in your hole, boy? That’s it, boy, take it—”
Annnnnnd I press stop. Nope. Just nope.
I hit the jackpot on my next selection. Two very attractive guys are making out on a bed, grinding their hard cocks together.
My dick says hello.
Interesting. There’s something about the grip they have on each other that turns me on. It’s not gentle. There’s a hungry, forceful energy to their kissing that I appreciate. That my dick appreciates.
Shit, like seriously appreciates. I’m hard now, my gaze fixed on the screen as I watch one guy kiss his way down the other one’s stomach. When his mouth engulfs his partner’s erection, a jolt of heat shoots up my spine.
Sucking in a breath, I reach down and grip my aching cock. Oh fuck, that feels good.
I keep watching. Keep stroking.
And the messed up thing is, I’m not even mentally replacing the guy’s face with Wes’s. That had been one of the reasons for this little experiment, to find out if it’s just Wes who turns me on, or dudes in general.
The guy receiving the blowjob releases a husky moan. The masculine sound of it does something to me. His partner sucks him harder.
I’m literally five seconds away from coming.
Chillax, I order my dick. We’re just getting started.
But the little goalie’s got a mind of his own. He won’t quit throbbing, so I hit the fast forward button to skip to the real test.
The anal.
And holy shit, that’s some serious pounding. I wince as the sound of flesh slapping flesh bursts out of the laptop speakers. Jesus. How is that guy not screaming in pain?
He is screaming, though. Well, moaning. And there’s grunting. They’re not careful with each other, but all that graceless enthusiasm looks like fun. I keep staring at the guy who’s taking it. His biceps bulge as he jacks himself, his eyes slammed shut, his neck taut with pleasure.
And then he’s coming, and I’m not far behind. The computer falls off my lap as I stroke faster, cupping my balls with my other hand. I gasp for air, my eyes glued to the screen, to the sight of two men screwing. My spine arches as my cock twitches in my hand, spilling all over my stomach.
Holy…shit.
It takes almost a full minute for my heartbeat to regulate. Once my limbs no longer feel like spaghetti noodles, I reach for the tissue box next to me and clean myself up. Then I stare up at the ceiling for a while.
I’m not done, though. That was just the first part of the experiment. I pick up the laptop again and click on a new category. Good ol’ fashioned lesbian porn.
I’m too spent to jerk it again, but I still click on a thumbnail, one that shows two smoking hot brunettes tangled together on a white couch. I hike my shorts back up, one hand resting on my crotch as I settle in to enjoy the view.
And enjoy it I do. I’m hardening again. The lust isn’t as strong as before, but that’s because of the orgasm I just had, not because the girls aren’t doing it for me. They are. Big-time. Their soft curves and pretty pussies and those sweet whimpers.
I’m attracted to women, no doubt about it.
I’m also attracted to men, apparently.
Wonderful. Complicated fellow, my dick.
When footsteps thud in the hall, I slap the laptop shut, nearly clipping my fingers off. Then I shove the computer aside and stand up, quickly tossing the used tissue in the wastebasket near the dresser.
A second later, a key jingles in the lock and Wes strides through the door. He sees me standing in the middle of the room, lifts an eyebrow, and says, “How was the nap?”
I get the feeling he knows exactly what I’ve been up to, but I simply shrug. “Just what I needed. How was lunch?”
“Didn’t have any. I ended up walking around.”
“You hungry?” I swipe my T-shirt off the floor and throw it on. “’Cause I am.”
When my head pops through the neck hole of the shirt, I find Wes eyeing me warily. “You okay, Canning?”
“Yep.” I walk to the door, glancing at him over my shoulder. “So…lunch?”
His brows knit, drawing my attention to the barbell in his left eyebrow. It gives him this whole bad-boy vibe that makes me kinda…horny.
“Wes?”
He snaps out of whatever thoughts had just preoccupied him. “Uh, yeah. Lunch sounds good.”
I leave the room without checking if he’s following me. I know he is. I can feel his perplexed gaze tickling my back.
After the way I spent the afternoon, I’m pretty sure he’s nowhere near as perplexed as I am.
&nb
sp; 20
Wes
We buy burritos and eat them by the lake. After that, we go for ice cream at one of the many places on Main Street. Jamie wants to talk about coaching, apparently. So we do.
“A lot of these kids still don’t understand ‘first touch,’” he theorizes. “If there was one thing I could have ’em take back home, it would be that. In a high-level game, you only get one chance at the puck. If they waste time repositioning, it’s over.”
“Uh-huh.” But every time he says “first touch” my mind is on an entirely different kind of touching. He’s talking a lot with his hands, and I’m fixated on his biceps, and the fine blond hair on his arms, which I now know is very soft to the touch. I think about removing that T-shirt to kiss his chest, and my dick begins to grow heavy.
Wearing these nylon athletic shorts? Not smart. And horniness isn’t even my only problem.
Last night I’d asked Jamie if he was freaking out. Funny, I’ve now spent an entire day doing just that.
The guy is fucking with my mind. First he acts like nothing happened. Then he ditches me so he can take a “nap.” But no way was he doing that. I mean, I wasn’t born yesterday. When I got back to our room and saw him standing there all guiltily, it was obvious what he’d been doing. The fucker had jerked off.
I would have been happy to help him out with that, but clearly he’d rather go solo than let me touch him again.
Except…then he’d checked me out. Again, not born yesterday. I saw the way he was looking at me before we headed out.
Jesus. Good thing he’s not a traffic cop, because he’s sending enough mixed signals to cause a ten-car pileup.
I’ve played it cool, but inside I’m a wreck. Because once was not enough, and yet I haven’t a clue what Jamie’s thinking.
No clue.
Shoving the last of my ice cream cone in my mouth, all I want is to drag him back to our lair and do very dirty things to him. But is that even in the cards? I know two things so far. First, Jamie Canning can get hot for me. I saw it last night. And second, he’s not horrified by what we did.
That’s amazing, and I feel like pinching myself that I had even one awesome night with the love of my life. But it doesn’t guarantee me a fucking thing. He owes me nothing. He could tire of this little experiment. He probably already has.
It’s terrifying. Because I want another taste. Hell, I want to gorge myself on him. I’m a glutton for Jamie Canning.
“Wes?”
“What?” Oh, shit. I’ve been staring at him, and I have no idea what we’re talking about.
“I asked if you wanted to swim. It’s still hot.”
“Uh.” I really just want to go home and get very, very naked. “I’m not wearing a suit.”
His eyes narrow. “Who are you?”
Right. When you spend your life giving zero fucks about appropriate attire, people notice. “Okay,” I concede. “Let’s swim.”
Jamie’s phone makes a trilling noise. “Oh. Hang on two minutes? If I don’t answer, they’ll keep calling.” He swipes the screen, but holds the phone away from his body. “Hey guys!”
A chorus of voices pours from his phone, which is on Skype or some shit. “Jamie!” “Jamester!” “Hi baby!”
I’d forgotten about this. Jamie’s whole family has a big meal together on Sunday every single week, and apparently it’s a family sacrilege to miss one. So while their youngest was away at camp, he got these calls every week. Probably when he was away at college, too.
“You need a haircut,” a female voice pipes up.
“Yeah,” he concedes, running a hand through his golden hair. I’m jealous of that hand. “What’s new in Cali?”
I listen while his family all tries to talk at once. “Guess who’s knocked up again?” a male voice asks.
“Language!”
Apparently Jamie’s sister is pregnant again. And one of his brothers got a promotion. Another brother broke up with his long-time girlfriend.
“I’m sorry about that,” Jamie says.
“We’re not!” a sister cries.
“Fuck off!”
“Language!”
Suffice it to say that Jamie’s call from home is nothing like mine.
“So, son,” an older voice booms. Jamie’s dad always manages to sound commanding without coming off like an asshole. My father could take a few pointers. “What have you been up to this week?”
I snort so hard that Jamie’s eyes flick over to me before quickly moving back to the screen. “The usual,” he says, giving me a kick under the table. “Lots of ice time. Went hiking.”
Sucked off my gay friend Wes.
He keeps his eyes firmly on the screen so I can’t really tell whether he’s sweating this part of the conversation or not.
“Sounds good,” his father rumbles. “Your mother is busy in the kitchen, but she said to tell you to make sure you come home before you head for Detroit.”
“I’ll try,” he promises. “It depends on whether Pat can replace me for that week.”
“Your mother also reminds you to try to get enough fiber and eat organic.”
There’s a boom of laughter from the phone at that.
Jamie grins. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Be good, Jamie!” “Love you!” “Wear your cup!” More snickers. More endearments.
And then Jamie ends the call, tucking his phone into his shirt pocket, shaking his head. “Sorry about that.”
“No big. Still want to swim?” Please say no.
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
The town beach is at the southern end of Mirror Lake, really close to the dormitory. Everything in Lake Placid is close to everything else. This town was a summer resort for rich people well before it was a winter sports destination. So we pass all manner of attractive old buildings on the short walk to the little beach.
Jamie kicks off his flip-flops and strips off his shirt. He walks into the water, where his shorts start to cling to his body even before he’s submerged himself.
I follow him, of course. He could lead me anywhere right now, and I wouldn’t argue.
The cool water feels great, though. When I’m up to my thighs I dive under, chasing Jamie out past the sandy area. There’s a floating raft a hundred yards out, and we swim to it.
Jamie is smiling at me when I break the surface. With one palm I splash him a good one, then dive under again to escape retribution. Passing him, I make for the far side of the raft.
When I come up to take a breath, a big hand pushes me under again. So of course I’m coughing when I bob up a second later. “Fucker,” I sputter, even though we spent the better part of our summers trying to drown each other every afternoon after practice.
He’s got an elbow on the raft now, too, which prevents me from dunking him. Figures. So I do the same, coming to perch beside him.
Our shoulders are touching. All he has to do is turn his head and his mouth would be inches from mine. And then all I’d have to do is lean forward and his mouth would be on mine.
But he doesn’t turn toward me. He just stares straight ahead.
Fucking hell. I can’t take this anymore. I need to know where we stand. Because the thought of spending even another minute guessing what this guy wants from me is absolute torture.
Under water, I reach out and touch his belly with my fingertips.
Jamie’s eyes widen. But he doesn’t say anything. I hitch myself over to be a little closer. Then I flatten my palm on his cool, wet skin, my pinkie finger breaching the elastic of his shorts. I don’t think anyone can see what I’m doing. But Jamie’s eyes do a circuit of the lake. He’s worried.
Fuck, I don’t want to freak him out. “Feel like going home now?” I ask. It’s code for, are we going to fool around again? If we’re not, I wish he’d just tell me. Put me out of my misery.
He licks his lips. “Yeah,” he says. Then he knocks my hand away. “But cut that out, or I won’t be able to get out of the water.”
/>
I obey immediately.
* * *
Five minutes later we’re walking into the dormitory, our clothes dripping on the old tile floors. But that’s how people roll around here in the summertime. The place is mostly quiet, which means the kids are all at dinner.
Without a word we walk into our room and shut the door. The first thing I do is drop my shorts and boxers to the floor where they make a wet slap. Jamie follows suit. Then we’re both just standing there, starkers, staring at each other. His eyes are startled, and my heart quakes with the fear that he’s about to say, “I can’t do this again.”
“We have to be quiet,” he says instead.
My smile is the size of Mirror Lake. “You can bite the pillow when I make you scream.”
He takes a stuttering breath when I move closer to him, and I instantly freeze.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “You’ve kinda been running hot and cold on me all day.”
He nods. “Needed to get some things straight in my head.”
I snort at his choice of words. “Straight, huh?” I offer a pointed look at his very noticeable hard-on.
His mouth twitches. “My dick and I reached an understanding.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?” I ask curiously.
He shrugs. “We both like you.”
Fuck yeah.
I erase the rest of the distance between us. I’m hardening already, which is no surprise, because I’ve been thinking about this all day. My hands land on skin cool from the water. I brush his nipples with my fingertips, and they stiffen immediately. His ear is right beside my mouth, so I stick my tongue in it, making him gasp.
“Get on my fucking bed,” I whisper.
Two seconds later, he’s there. And I’m stretching out on him like a blanket, and jamming my tongue into his mouth. Jamie moans, but I’m too wrapped up in the taste of him to worry about it. I have my fingers in his hair and his hot, hard body under mine and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.