by Emily Snow
“Do you own a home? Do you and Brandon live together?”
“No. Like I said, next-door neighbors.”
“Convenient.” Justin won’t stop staring at the side of my face. Despite how attractive he is—maybe I’ve softened up a bit to him, now that he’s stopped being such a bitch to me—I’m still a little weirded out by his suddenly … gooey demeanor.
“It is,” I agree. “Though, I just wish I could have him home all year around.”
“You resent that he’s defending your country?”
I quail at that conclusion of his. “No, no, I don’t resent him,” I insist without giving the question an honest thought. “I think it’s noble and brave and … and fucking wonderful of him. I’m so proud to have a boyfriend who …”
Boyfriend. I just said it out loud.
Justin nudges me. “A boyfriend who …?”
Of course it doesn’t faze him; he and James are already assuming Brandon and I are an item. I’m not fooled by this whole charade of his. I know we’re not just being invited over for hors d’oeuvres and wine. They want us out of our clothes, that much is clear. Somehow, the prospect is a lot more fun when I feel like I’m being included, too.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on my thigh. I nearly run us off the freeway until I grip the wheel with both my hands, my eyes flashing wide as I lock onto the road.
“A boyfriend who …?” he encourages me.
“Who serves my country and … and saves my life every day.” My breath catches as his hand slides up my thigh, slow as a snail. “His life really turned around when he … when he …”
“Yeah? Keep your eyes on the road,” he says, like an order. What the fuck is it with hot guys ordering me around? “When he what?”
“When he joined the Army,” I finish. “It gave him focus. He loves the purpose it gives him. The chaos of the Army life is what he understands. It’s the calmness here at home that drives him crazy. He told me how … how …”
“I know all about driving men crazy.” His hand slides to my inner thigh. “Just as long as that man doesn’t drive the car crazy while I drive him crazy.” His fingers tickle at the crotch of my jeans.
Being commando, I feel fucking everything.
“Justin, you … y-you shouldn’t …”
“Why not?” Justin moans as his hands caress my crotch. He knows I’m not wearing underwear. He knows I’m hard as fuck and emotionally confused. “Don’t you want this, Jess? I told you, your boyfriend wants it. All two hundred and thirty pounds of him,” Justin adds. “Five of those pounds are in his pants, I’m pretty sure.”
I don’t want to troll the poor idiot by making him consider how big a five-pound dick really would be.
“You guys are boyfriends,” he goes on. “James and I are boyfriends. This is what couples do, Jess. Don’t you boys want to make some … new friends?” His mouth moves close to my ear. I feel his breath, warm and ripe with the smell of alcohol.
My hands grip the wheel so tight, my knuckles create snowcapped mountains while Justin’s hand works on my crotch. Am I betraying Brandon, or is this sort of life the one that Brandon wants? What’s he doing in that car with James right now? I can’t think straight, not with this much horniness pent up inside of me and a hand teasing my crotch while I’m trying to drive. I don’t know if it’s wrong to let this happen, or if the same sort of ethical dilemma is happening in that vehicle ahead of us, the one I’m following like a dog sniffing its mate’s ass down the sidewalk.
“You’re so hard,” he observes.
“I feel guilty.”
“First time playing with another couple?”
“I don’t even know if this is what Brandon—”
“Oh, it is,” Justin assures me, his voice turning into half a moan in my ear, tickling the little hairs there. “He said as much to us when you were busy buying the beers. He wants this. He thinks it’ll be … fun.”
My mistrusting side builds a thick wall of bricks all around my heart a mile high. I don’t trust what Justin’s telling me at all. I won’t trust it until I hear the words fall from Brandon’s own pouty mouth.
Before I know it, the button to my jeans pops open and, helped by my ridiculously hard cock, my pants practically unzip themselves. “Wait, wait, wait, wait …”
“Eyes on the road,” he murmurs as his head drops to my lap.
I gasp, a groan erupting from my lips when his mouth swallows my cock. I’m not enormous by any means—not like Brandon is—so Justin’s big model-boy mouth engulfs it completely and the sensation is maddeningly stimulating. I feel tingles run up my abdomen and into my fingertips as his tongue slides up and down my length. My toes curl in my shoes.
A car passes us on the left and it takes everything in me not to shove Justin off of me, fearful that anyone will look at us. This is so wrong.
James’ car swerves slightly. Or is it?
I fear for anyone’s lives driving with us on this freeway. Caution: four reckless homos are doing naughty things in their cars and are showing complete and utter disregard for the lives of everyone else on the road this troublous Saturday night.
Despite the hotness of this unique situation, his mouth and tongue lack the finesse of Brandon’s. I find myself suddenly unable to enjoy it, no matter how fervently my heart beats.
“Justin. I’m … I’m g-good.”
His lips slide off my cock, sending a shiver of joy through my extremities. “You mean you’re close?”
“No. I mean, please stop doing what you’re doing because I—” Well, really, I’m not sure the reason.
“Mmm, I get it. Good idea.” He rights himself back into his seat, leaving my boner bobbing out in the open and denying me the courtesy of helping stow away my misbehaving member.
“Good idea?”
“Yeah. Save the fun for when we’re at my place.” Justin offers me a wink, then runs a finger along his mouth and checks himself in the pull-down mirror.
My hard-on and I keep our attention on the road, determined not to obsess over what’s happening or not happening to Brandon fifty feet ahead of me.
[ 6 ]
Their house is down a one-lane country road that cuts through the woods and is scary as shit to drive through in the dark of night. Fear grips me by the throat for a solid sixty seconds as I consider whether or not Justin is about to pull a knife on me and they don’t really live out here at all, until finally a bright two-story breaks through all the gloom, revealing itself.
It’s an impressive house, even from the outside. A wraparound porch dressed with rocking chairs and hanging lamps feeds my eyes warm light that is a welcome departure from the starkness of headlights I’ve grown adjusted to for the past hour. Though it’s dark, I know a ritzy country house when I see it.
James has already parked. As their parking area seems to be simply a spread of gravel outlined by tall trees in front, I pull in next to James and cut off the engine. I double check that my cock is properly put away and my pants are adequately zipped up—which does not escape Justin’s attention, who just giggles in response—before letting myself out of the car.
When my eyes meet Brandon’s, I feel a horrible ball of guilt roll down my throat. Or maybe I just swallowed and there’s nothing to be guilty about at all. Maybe Brandon needs a night of kicking back and messing around with two hot dudes—dudes that are most likely far more his type than I ever was.
I wonder, have I always thought this lowly about myself, or is it just since Brandon and I have been a … whatever we are? Am I doomed to forever compare myself to the hunk next-door?
When we enter their house, I’m surprised by the open floor plan, as I’d expected something a little more … boxy? Roomy? Country?
Justin rushes past me to turn on some lights, then kicks his shoes off and runs to silence a pair of dogs I hear barking from somewhere inside the house.
Brandon and I share a look. I wonder if we’re also sharing a thought: did you do something with your ca
r partner? But the look in his eyes seems to be calm, content, and composed, even with a couple beers in him. Of course, a guy his size, I’m sure, takes a lot more than just a couple beers to undo.
“Welcome to our home,” mutters James, coming up to Brandon’s side and laying a hand on his back. I try not to let that hand send yet another shiver of possessiveness through me. “Need a drink? We have everything. Let me show you around.” He slaps Brandon’s back again, and the sound of flesh hitting firm, unrelenting muscle echoes through the corridor before he walks ahead.
I rush up to Brandon. “You alright?”
Brandon squints unsurely at me. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to do this. Justin kept insisting that you were cool with it, and I—”
“You guys coming?” calls James from the other room.
Brandon nods at me. “I’m fine. We don’t have any plans tomorrow, and we already were goin’ out tonight, so …” He shrugs in that totally nonchalant, Brandon-like way, then heads into the next room.
I take a deep breath, praying I’m ready for just about anything, then follow.
The house is pretty damn big. The front entryway opens directly into a sitting area and kitchen, and its island counter overlooks a very spacious living room that features a huge TV hanging over the fireplace, beaming down upon a long white sofa that looks like a fucking cloud. Along one whole wall is a spread of floor-to-very-high-ceiling windows that merely reflect the room onto itself, what with it being so dark outside. I note the railing up above on a second floor where I imagine the bedrooms to be—or perhaps where a whole other fucking house resides, for as big as this property is.
When we’re in the kitchen, Brandon takes a glass and starts filling it at the sink, which earns him a hearty guffaw and a hiss from Justin, who rushes to his side and insists on their filtered water from the fridge. Brandon shoots him a quizzical look, then surrenders his glass to mister perfect-hair, who fills it from a nozzle that juts out of the front of the fridge. Brandon gulps the whole glass in seconds, and I’m hypnotized by the way his throat moves as he chugs, chugs, chugs. What is it about his Adam’s apple that’s so fucking sexy? Then Brandon goes for another.
He’s insatiable. It’s never enough. He drinks water from jugs he fills up every morning, a whole jug a day. I find that so hot, how much he consumes. Not a meal goes by that he doesn’t go for seconds. That includes when he takes me on his bed and makes a sweaty mess out of us. Brandon is such a beast.
When I spot James staring at Brandon from the other side of the kitchen, I realize I’m not alone in my appreciation. Somewhere inside, I know that Brandon might … need this, in a way. If you love someone, you set him free, right? Love has no room for cages, despite all the room in the world a cage might have for love.
“I have a really well-off family,” explains Justin to a question Brandon asks when the four of us have settled on the enormous white couch, Justin at one end, me at the other, and James and Brandon in the middle. The TV hums with some quiet pop tune, set on one of those radio channels that just plays music nonstop while typing out factoids and displaying the album art.
“I was wondering,” grunts Brandon, his shoulder pressing into my side. I love how that feels. It’s reassuring, sitting next to my man. “This is a pretty big place. The taxes alone have to be fucking you in the ass without lube.”
I wince at the imagery. Justin laughs, noting my face. “Someone doesn’t like the sound of that.”
“You mean someone would like that?” I snort. “Someone who doesn’t want to walk straight for a week, maybe. Not me.”
“Mmm.” Justin studies me, his finger playing around in James’ hair next to him. “You bottom?”
I feel Brandon stiffen next to me. “What we do in the bedroom ain’t your business,” I say with a light tone of voice, pasting a smile on my face.
Ugh, I’m such a prude.
“Sounds like you two are into some kinky shit,” says Justin, his eyes scanning over Brandon as if to ponder said kinky shit. I can already see him making lists in his head and checking off all the worst.
James leans back, throwing his arms over the back of the couch—which puts his hand at the vicinity of Brandon’s shoulder. He leans into Justin and says, “Babe. You think everyone’s into kinky shit.”
“I love when you talk dirty.”
James growls, then brings his lips to meet his boyfriend’s. The kiss escalates quickly, and while James keeps his arms over the back of the couch, his head twists and his mouth does all the work, sucking and pecking and damn well biting his boyfriend. Justin moans, turning his torso to match his boyfriend’s, his hands pressing into his man’s big chest. The sounds between their mouths become very wet and … intimate.
After a moment of feeling like a proverbial creepy observer through a window, Brandon and I look at each other. Should we … go? is the question written on my face.
I see James’ hand drop from the back of the couch and land on Brandon’s shoulder, which he promptly starts to massage. Brandon turns, startled by it, and I feel the side of his body grow even more rigid than before—pure stone, his already firm muscles. James keeps massaging his shoulder, working it over and over encouragingly. James and Justin only pull apart from one another for one brief moment to observe our reaction—or maybe just Brandon’s—before drifting back into each other’s kiss.
Brandon turns his neck back to me, and his eyes are filled with yearning. Is he wanting my permission? Does he want to dive into that man sandwich we’re—
My questions are swallowed when Brandon lurches forth and locks his lips onto mine. His big hands grab and pull me onto his lap like I’m a toy he just ripped out of a bin. Manhandling me, he grips the back of my head and won’t let me an inch away from him as he devours my face. The taste of him, even past the one or two beers, is exquisitely Brandon.
The kiss doesn’t last long before we slowly separate and look at our couch partners. James and Justin stare at us expectantly. When Brandon and James lock eyes, I watch and feel my heart squeeze as that fucking hand of James’ pulls on Brandon’s shoulder, bringing him in for a kiss. Brandon and James suck lips in front of me, their eyes closed.
The presence of Justin’s face by my ear pulls me out of my emotion-ridden stupor. When I turn, Justin’s lips catch mine, and he bites. I gasp, surprised, and then his tongue plunges into my mouth with so much force, I instinctively open my throat to let him in. Justin’s hand darts down between my legs, finding his stiff reward, and I moan despite myself. His hand moves up and down, working me, and for the twelfth time today, I thank myself for wearing no underwear.
Suddenly inspired, I pull away from Justin and grab my boyfriend’s junk, knowing we share that secret of going commando, and he moans into James’ mouth, still kissing him as I grip his huge, hard dick through the material of his jeans. I squeeze and massage it as Justin goes for my ear, his teeth latching on and sending a pulse of delight down my neck.
Is this happening?
Is this really fucking happening?
Brandon squirms as James continues to pull on him, and then suddenly his whole body topples. I slide off his lap as he brings himself over James, their kissing growing more intense by the second. As Brandon crawls over James, his jeans hang lose around his deliciously firm ass, his bare crack revealing the lack of underwear.
Justin seems to notice that and forgets all about me and my tasty ear, bringing his hands to Brandon’s back and working his shirt up. With a sudden surge of energy, Justin brings his face to Brandon’s ample ass and starts to worship it, showering the flesh with kisses and tiny, lizard-like licks. Brandon responds, pushing his ass up into Justin’s face while he presses down on James, their mouths refusing to detach from one another, hungry for more and more.
Insatiable. It’s what I like about Brandon, right?
Oh, and where the fuck am I?
I lean forward and kiss Justin’s ear, but he
seems too occupied with worshipping Brandon’s beefy butt to notice I’m there. I try a different tack, coming to the other side to massage Brandon’s back, but there’s no response as his full attention is given to James and his hoover mouth. I move towards their faces, kneeling in front of the couch as I kiss the side of my boyfriend’s face.
He doesn’t regard me at all. I kiss him again, then lick and bite his ear. The three boys move and massage and hump one another, the sound of kissing flooding my ears. I keep kissing and nibbling him, and it feels so much like I’m saying, Hey, what about me? And, Hey, let me in. Like a puppy waiting to play.
Like a puppy … waiting to play.
Waiting.
I pull away and watch them for a moment. Quite suddenly, my horny mood ends. Awareness of what is literally happening in front of me floods my brain.
I find myself getting to my feet, stepping back a few paces. None of them know I’m even here. I add nothing to them. Brandon plus James plus Justin equals a trio of sweaty hotness.
Nowhere in that steamy equation is room for me. I wonder if there ever was. I don’t measure up. Not tall enough to ride the ride. Not old enough to get the beer. Not buff enough for a buff boyfriend.
How could I be so blind?
[ 7 ]
I grab my phone off the coffee table and head for the door, fire rising to my ears and water pushing to my eyes. I trip over a fucking step and land hard on my knee, cursing out, then scramble back to my feet and slam into the front door, wrestling for the knob.
“Jesse?” comes a voice from behind.
I pull open the stubborn door and nearly knock into a vase on the porch on my way down the steps. The gravel crunches beneath my feet as I march to the car. I pull out my keys so fast, they fumble from my fingers in my effort at getting them into the fucking lock. “Motherfucker,” I hiss, crouching down to search for them.
“Jesse? What happened?”