My socked feet were silent as I inched across the carpet onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. My heart hammered in my chest, every nerve was on end, and my hair felt puffed in fear all along my arms and the back of my neck. If I were caught…
I wouldn’t be caught. In my mind’s eye I could see myself getting the beers. I crept closer, watched my hand reaching for the refrigerator door, felt cool metal as my fingers closed around the handle. I wouldn’t get caught. I wouldn’t…
From the dining room came that sound again, half cough, half clearing the throat. With a voice steeped in gravel, Mr. Pierce spoke. “So you owe me what, three hundred?”
My hand froze on the handle. Oh, fuck. He wasn’t alone.
I heard another sound, something sexy, a mingled laugh and moan. “Three-fifty. Don’t round it down just because you’re hard for me.”
The words drew me closer. Without conscious thought, I relaxed my grip on the handle of the fridge and turned toward the partially shut louvered door. “Hard for me?” Was that what he had said?
Oh, Jesus.
I expected an angry shout, a denial, something fast and quick that sent this fellow packing. Instead, I was surprised to hear the hint of a smile in Mr. Pierce’s voice when he answered, “I was cutting you some slack. I know you ain’t got the cash.”
With a throaty chuckle, his friend replied, “I know it’s not cash you want from me.”
I couldn’t help it—my feet moved forward, heading for the louvered door. I stopped at the counter and tried to peer around the gap where the door and jamb didn’t quite meet, but all I saw was blank wall. Were they talking about what I thought they were talking about? What I hoped they were talking about?
Then I heard muffled moans, a slight gasp, indistinct words. I inched closer and prized the louvers up slowly, careful not to let them squeak. Through the wooden slats I saw Mr. Pierce sitting at the head of the dining room table. He was turned toward me, facing a friend of his I recognized as RC, who sat on the bench closest to the kitchen, the same seat Mikey always preferred to use. Only RC wasn’t exactly sitting any longer. Both hands leaned heavily on Mr. Pierce’s thighs, rumpling the work pants he wore as RC fisted the dark blue material. RC stretched above Mr. Pierce, face buried in his neck, and as I watched, Mr. Pierce’s thick lips parted in a low, guttural moan. One hand rubbed over RC’s strong arm, kneading through his shirt. The other trailed down RC’s chest to tug at the waistband of RC’s jeans.
Suddenly my own jeans felt two sizes too small. Without thinking about it, I thumbed open the fly and felt the zipper part beneath the erection straining at my crotch. My whole body flushed at the sensation of my hard dick released from confinement and I pressed my palm against it before my fingers encircled my shaft through the cotton of my briefs.
When RC’s mouth covered Mr. Pierce’s, I bit my lower lip to keep from whimpering. Yes, I prayed. Thank you, God, for letting me see this.
Apparently Mr. Pierce didn’t share my appreciation. With his hand flat against RC’s chest, he held the younger man at bay. “Sweet as they are,” he purred, “your kisses aren’t enough to pay your debt.”
“You’re the one who knocked off fifty bucks.” The coy smile I heard in RC’s voice excited me and I rubbed the front of my briefs, which had grown damp beneath my growing erection.
Mr. Pierce’s laugh was like a warm hand that wrapped around my balls and squeezed gently. I almost moaned at the sound, but bit down harder on my lip to keep quiet. “I can get these for free whenever I want,” he murmured.
The thought of these two men doing this—this!—after every card party with Mikey and me upstairs, ignorant, made me want to weep. I had never loved anyone as much as I did the both of them, right at that instant. Though I knew I should just tiptoe back up to Mikey’s room without a word, before they knew I was there, nothing could force me to move. I wanted to see this, I had to see it.
My hand slipped into the waistband of my briefs. My fingers smoothed down the kinked curls at my crotch, then strummed along the stiffening length jutting from my unzipped fly. When my thumb rubbed over the tip of my cock, I whimpered a little with desire. Oh, hell yes. I needed this.
In the dining room, RC had folded one leg beneath him and now sat perched on the bench before Mr. Pierce, whose spread legs and slouched posture looked like an invitation I knew I would have never been able to resist. With sure hands RC explored the wide expanse of Mr. Pierce’s chest, flattening his undershirt flush against his flesh. At the waistband of his pants, RC untucked the shirt, plucking it free from the belt buckle, and flicked it up to expose a pale swath of stomach. My fist tightened around my cock at seeing the hair swirled around his navel, black and gray as if seasoned just right; the slight paunch from the way he sat, the hint of belly fat that pooched over the top of his belt, the way the skin seemed to quiver when RC’s fingers tickled over it. Leaning down, RC pressed his face to Mr. Pierce’s stomach and rested his cheek in the tufts of hair as he snuggled close.
Jealousy flooded me. I wanted to be there, held in the safety of Mr. Pierce’s embrace, clutched tight to the man I had loved all these years. My cock ached at the thought of doing that, just that, and nothing else. I stroked myself as I watched RC’s lips pucker and kiss Mr. Pierce wherever he could reach without moving—belly, navel, the underside of one pectoral muscle that peeked out from beneath the shirt.
Pressing his mouth against Mr. Pierce’s skin, RC suddenly blew a wet raspberry, the sound loud and startling in the silence.
Mr. Pierce growled as he shoved RC back and wiped at the slobber on his stomach. “Come on,” he muttered, sounding exactly like Mikey when my friend wanted me to do something and I was too busy being silly to comply. “Are we going to do this, or what? Because you can leave.”
RC’s hands found Mr. Pierce’s belt buckle. The teasing grin on his face made my whole body flush. “You don’t want me to
go.”
Mr. Pierce grunted in reply, but stayed silent. With expert ease RC unbuckled the belt and let it fall open, then unzipped the front of Mr. Pierce’s work pants. I leaned forward, squinting through the louvers, holding my breath as one word tripped like a litany through my mind. Please, please, pleasepleaseplease.
He tugged open Mr. Pierce’s fly, pushing the material down out of the way as he parted it. Dingy white briefs appeared in the gap, rising like dough over Mr. Pierce’s erection. I had to grip the counter with my free hand as I fondled my dick, my underwear chafing now, my body trilling with desire. Gently RC rolled down the top of Mr. Pierce’s briefs, and the large cock that swung into view was ruddy and veined and so goddamn huge that I squeezed my balls when I saw it. When RC leaned down to rub that thick length against his cheek, I wanted to rush in there, push him aside and take his place.
I wanted that to be me.
I watched, giddy and light-headed, as he wrapped his tongue around the base of Mr. Pierce’s shaft. I wondered what such flesh tasted like—I pictured myself in that position, head in Mr. Pierce’s lap, tongue buried in the graying hair of his crotch. It was my tongue I saw slide up the length of his cock, my tongue that swirled around the bulbous tip, my tongue that dipped down the dribbling slit before my mouth opened wide to take him in.
As RC went down on Mr. Pierce, I gasped. I pushed my underwear below my balls and squatted a bit, leaning back against the counter to get comfortable. My erect dick hardened in the cool air, my nuts hanging low between my legs, and I licked my palms, first one, then the other, before resuming massaging my own length. The spittle helped, easing the friction. My fingers flew over familiar territory as not five feet away, Mr. Pierce leaned back in his seat, a blissful smile on his face while RC sucked his cock. This was my daydream come true, my fantasies made real. It was me in there with him, my throat working his erection, my fist tight around the base of his shaft, my fingers rubbing under his scrotum to rim the hairy darkness at his core.
In all my eighteen years, I had never seen a man plea
sured by another. Oh, I had seen pictures—those magazines under my bed had their fair share of cum-flecked and dog-eared pages, to be sure. But they were staged images, hard cocks that had been stroked and polished until they gleamed for the cameras. All the pinups were solo shots, not couples. I didn’t Google gay porn online because the last way I wanted to come out to my family was by someone—my mother perhaps, or a teacher at school—discovering the websites I had visited recently. I knew gay porn existed; I just didn’t have access to it. RC’s kiss was the first time I ever saw two men show any affection toward each other that extended beyond a handshake or a clap on the back. So this, this—Mr. Pierce shoved deep into RC’s willing mouth, one hand holding the back of RC’s neck, the other cradling RC’s unshaven cheek…this was my first glimpse of heaven.
After several long minutes, Mr. Pierce clenched his hand into a fist at RC’s nape. The next time RC bobbed up, the hand on his face eased beneath his jaw, holding him back. The look Mr. Pierce gave RC smoldered—even across the distance that separated us, I felt that look deep in my groin and had to bite into the fleshy base of my thumb to keep from crying out with want. “Damn, you’re good,” Mr. Pierce said, his voice soft.
My cheeks blazed at the compliment as if it had been directed toward me.
A slow smile softened Mr. Pierce’s stern features. “But you know what I want.”
RC laughed and turned his face to press his mouth in Mr. Pierce’s palm, planting a kiss there. “What you always want. A piece of my ass.”
There was the slightest hint of a tease in Mr. Pierce’s voice when he countered, “It’s an oh-so-fuckable ass.”
“You like it?” RC asked.
My mind whirled out in a blind rush. Oh, god. Oh, my god. They aren’t…they won’t…please please please yes.
In a seductive purr, Mr. Pierce admitted, “I love it.”
My hand tightened around my aching dick. Yes, yes, yes.
In one fluid motion RC stood, hands opening his fly as he turned and shucked down his jeans. He bent over slightly, mooning Mr. Pierce and giving me a good look at those plump, dimpled cheeks. His ass was smooth and tanned, with a hint of dark hair curving beneath each buttock to trail into the crack between them. A mole sat like a beauty mark just below the tail-bone on his right buttock, one single imperfection on an otherwise flawless canvas. “If you love it so much,” RC joked, “why don’t you kiss it?”
My whole body throbbed with need. Yes.
When Mr. Pierce leaned forward, his stiff cock poked his belly, the damp tip smearing the trail of hair below his navel. His large hands caught RC’s hips, pulling the younger man closer; his lips puckered, straining forward as he aimed for RC’s ass. His mouth closed over that small mole with a loud smack! I could hear from where I sat. My fingers flew along my dick, jerking it sore, seeking release as I panted, watching, wanting more.
As if he heard my silent plea, Mr. Pierce obliged. Spreading RC’s buttocks apart, he licked out to taste the dark skin hidden between them. In fascination I watched that tongue wet a path down, down—I could almost feel it on my own ass, which trembled for such a touch. It’d be warm, and softer than a man had a right to be, the saliva cooling along my flesh almost instantly. Mr. Pierce buried his nose between those ripe mounds, his jaw widening as his tongue angled down between them. I saw that tongue flick in and out beneath RC’s left cheek and could only imagine just where it tickled when out of sight.
All coyness had left RC’s face. He now leaned heavily against the dining room table, both palms flat on cards and poker chips alike. His head was thrown back, a look of sheer ecstasy written on his features. “Yes,” he panted, arching his butt into Mr. Pierce’s face. His feet slid apart as he tried to spread his legs wider. “God, yes. Right there, Hank. That’s it. That’s the spot. Jesus. Right there!”
He leaned forward, forearms on the table now, standing on tiptoes as he presented himself to Mr. Pierce. With expert deftness, Mr. Pierce lifted RC’s buttocks and separated them, allowing me a glimpse of the puckered hole like a delicious treat at his center. I could see the muscles flex, could feel the tongue rimming the tight bud as if it were my ass upon which Mr. Pierce gorged. Softly I mimicked RC’s desire-filled cries as I pulled my cock toward release. “Yes, yes.” When the tip of his tongue disappeared into RC’s hole, I whispered Mr. Pierce’s real name, “Hank.”
A thrill went through me. It felt so wicked, and as a result the first dribble of precum slicked my hand.
From my angle, I couldn’t see RC’s cock. As Mr. Pierce explored his anus with lips and tongue, RC raised one leg and set his foot on the bench where he had sat earlier. His jeans, bunched at his knees, were now pulled taut between his legs. He pushed them down, out of the way, his boxers following suit, and I finally saw the long, hard dick standing up from the dusky patch of hair at his crotch. An easy ten inches, thin, it curved to the right and made me feel impossibly inadequate. With one hand, he reached down and tugged it toward the center of his frame as if trying to corral it into place, but it had a mind of its own and continued to pull to one side. I wondered what that felt like during sex—if he fucked me, would I feel it angling one way or the other inside my ass, or would my own body be enough to tame it straight? God, I wanted to know. I wanted to crawl into the dining room, hide beneath the table, and let RC shove that thick length into my tender hole as far as it would go while Mr. Pierce took RC from behind.
I would have given anything to be brave enough to join in.
Instead I continued to watch, biting the inside of my cheek as I pleasured myself. “Hank,” RC sighed, over and over again. “God,” and “yes,” and “Hank, Jesus,” as if this were a religious experience for him. I knew I was close to coming, and I wasn’t the one on the receiving end of Mr. Pierce’s relentless ministrations. How RC didn’t shoot a load, how he even managed to stand when my own knees wanted to buckle, was beyond me.
Finally, RC gasped, “Hank!” Louder this time, almost a command, his voice breathless. “Enough already. Just fuck me, will you?”
With a last kiss on the mole that started it all, Mr. Pierce joked, “Oh, so now you’re ready to pay the piper.”
“I want your cock,” RC said, his vulgar words enflaming my blood, “in my ass, in two seconds, or I’m going to spaz all over the table here and you can explain to the guys next time they’re over why your cards are covered in my cum.”
That earned him a smack across the ass, a sound that reverberated through me and left a red mark in the shape of Mr. Pierce’s hand on one round cheek. “They won’t know it’s yours,” he muttered. He stood, unzipping his pants farther and hitching them low on his hips. His dick was still ramrod hard, but he stroked it lazily as he rubbed the fat tip up and down the cleft between RC’s buttocks. “Did you bring a rubber, or do you want to ride bareback this time?”
RC straightened as he reached into the front pocket of his jeans. “What happened to your supply?”
Mr. Pierce shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the kid got into them, who knows? Maybe we used them all up last time.”
“Maybe you used them on someone else,” RC teased. Extracting his hand from his pocket, he tossed a couple of coin-shaped condom packets onto the table.
Mr. Pierce reached around RC, a hand sliding under RC’s shirt to smooth across his belly. His cock pressed against RC’s ass, pinned between them, as Mr. Pierce leaned over the younger man. With his mouth on RC’s neck, he murmured something I strained to hear. “There’s no one else but you.”
God. Oh, god. That phrase alone would fuel many fantasies in the days to come.
I leaned forward, my face against the louvers now, my breath hot and damp where it blew back in my face. I wanted to see everything in excruciating detail but Mr. Pierce was quick—in seconds he had the condom open and rolled onto his dick. Frustration welled in me; I wanted to replay the scene, watch it again in slow motion, see play-by-play how the lubricated condom encased his sausage-like dick. I wanted
to savor the foreplay—the ease of that thick shaft between RC’s tight buttocks, the filling press of cockhead to anus, the sweet pain as RC took Mr. Pierce in inch by glorious inch.
But I blinked and missed it. I saw discomfort flit over RC’s features, but by the time my gaze traveled down to where their bodies melded, Mr. Pierce was already inside, his hips thrust forward, his balls hanging over the waistband of his briefs. RC’s ass dimpled as he flexed, guiding Mr. Pierce deeper. Then he leaned the top half of his body down on the table, ass in the air, as Mr. Pierce found a slow, steady rhythm between them.
I renewed masturbating, timing my strokes with Mr. Pierce’s. I tried to get a better look—I wanted every single moment of this night etched in my memory. I needed it, needed this, and already treasured these few stolen minutes when I was witness to something transpiring between two men that was worlds more beautiful than I had ever dared hope. I scooted closer, wanting more.
The edge of my foot struck the louvered door.
For one heart-stopping moment, Mr. Pierce seemed to freeze. RC’s head was on the table now, his cheek pressed to the poker cards still lying there, and I saw his eyes swivel toward my hiding place. Every ounce of my body screamed at me to run but I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. They knew. Oh, god, they knew.
Oh, shit.
But Mr. Pierce had transcended reality—all that existed for him was his lover, the muscle encircling his cock and whatever myriad of emotions had swept him away. His movements were steady, a constant rocking that drove him into RC’s ass with a gentle pounding and a faint “Uh uh uh,” that escaped his parted lips. So that’s why Mikey made that same funny little sound when I’d heard him jerking off under the covers. Mr. Pierce leaned over RC, hands flat on the table on either side of RC’s body, pushing his hips against RC’s padded ass. His eyes were shut, his cheeks slack, and he was fucking not only with his dick but with every fiber of his being, giving himself wholly to the moment and the man beneath him.
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