Chapter 6: Billy Peabody.
The morning sun slanted through the kitchen blinds as I scraped burnt toast into the sink. Jason appeared in the doorway wearing nothing but his nightshirt, like me, his hair sleep-tousled, scratching his stomach. "Morning, Steve. You didn't wake me up with a kiss, like you normally do."
"Sorry, I wanted you to sleep while I made coffee," as I kissed him deeply, clutching his buttocks that were beautifully round and firm. "Let’s take our coffee out onto the porch and chat. I've been thinking about Billy and what you said. I wanted to run my thoughts past you."
Jason followed me outside, both of us settling onto the weathered porch swing that creaked under our combined weight. The morning air carried the scent of damp earth and pine resin, mingling with the steam from our mugs.
"You know," I began, watching a red squirrel dart across the yard, "I was thinking about what you said, that we guys should stick together, and then I remembered, Billy's got four older brothers who play for the county football team. His father coaches and, well, there must be so much testosterone flowing in that family that poor Billy might be drowning."
Jason stiffened beside me, his fingers tightening around his mug. “That could be a distinct possibility,” Jason replied to my observation.
I knew he recognised the unspoken threat, the same small-town dynamics that had made his own adolescence hell. "I think you might be right, but I don't know how to instigate contact if you are suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, that we reach out to him to offer whatever support we can."
"I do," Jason almost shouted out. "The towns got a WhatsApp Community, and we can find his number if my mum allows me to look at her phone. I don't want folks knowing our cellphone numbers for obvious reasons."
"That makes sense. Why don't we ask when we go over later for lunch?" I suggested.
"Yeah, let's. Mum might also have some thoughts as well, on how best to support Billy."
We had a basic plan as I retired to my study to continue editing the manuscript, which seemed to be taking a lot of time. Jason busied himself bringing wood in and tidying up, the rhythmic thud of logs stacked against the wall punctuated by his occasional off-key humming, some country tune I didn't recognise but that made my chest tighten regardless. By the time I surfaced from the manuscript, the grandfather clock in the hall was chiming noon.
Jason appeared in the doorway of the study, flushed from exertion, his nightshirt clinging to the sweat-damp hollow between his shoulder blades. "Ready?" he asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. The woods stretched behind him through the window, sunlight filtering through new leaves in dappled patterns across the porch steps.
"Shouldn't we get dressed properly?" I asked. “It is lunch after all.”
"Na, mum's cool with us like this. Said in a text, come as you are for lunch. No need to brush up.”
“That’s nice,” I responded, getting a little bored having to wear normal clothes for lunch all the time. It wasn’t as if we were having lunch in a Michelin Star restaurant, I thought to myself.
“Yeah, nice and natural, and she told me over coffee the other day, she gets our eccentric approach, and in fairness, she told me she likes our relaxed and informal way. She also told me it also means she doesn’t have to make an effort either."
The hem of Jason's nightshirt, now designated his dayshirt, fluttered around his thighs as we stepped off the porch, both wearing sandals for convenience in the late spring heat. The only difference between the two of us was that I had a cord wrapped around my waist, which I had taken from a retired bathrobe. Very handy indeed, allowing me to hang my manbag with our cigarettes, house keys and if necessary, a small tube of lube.
Sunlight caught the cotton fabric mid-billow of Jason’s dayshirt, rendering it translucent for a heartbeat, just long enough to glimpse the curve of his ass before the material settled again, providing me with brief excitement for some gratuitous sex on the way back after lunch.
It was always a good walk to Jason’s home. Through the woods, the Bluebell’s in full bloom, accompanied by the sounds and smell of spring in the air. We walked hand in hand, sometimes chatting but mostly just enjoying in silence our shared company.
We approached the house from the rear, and as we entered the kitchen, Jason shouted out a cheerful greeting, "Hi, Mum."
"Hi, you two, be with you in a minute," Sarah responded from the utility room. "I have another guest for lunch who’s just helping me a minute.
Jason and I heard Sarah in a low voice say, “Now, Billy, just be yourself and relax. It will be fine.”
“Mum, who have you invited for lunch. Billy who?
Sarah walked into the kitchen with Billy Peabody behind, looking nervous as fuck. “It’s Billy Peabody. Say hello, Billy.
“Hello,” he said, still hiding behind Sarah as she continued.
“I bumped into him in town yesterday, and he was asking after your wellbeing and I thought, why not invite him, and he can ask you himself."
"Fucking hell, Mum, and hi Billy, we were only just talking about him, you, this morning,” as Jason looked at me with a smile.
"Fancy that, Steve, my mother is clairvoyant," Jason declared as I viewed the unfolding scene with an element of surprise.
"Indeed," I answered, saying to Billy, “Hi, Nice to meet you,” while wondering where events were going to take us. Did I feel threatened? No, not directly and strangely, I wasn’t feeling mildly jealous either, as I reminded myself, perhaps Jason needs a friend his own age to converse with. Perhaps it would be good for me to cater for all needs.
Billy stood frozen in the doorway from the utility room, his gaze darting between Jason's bare legs beneath his dayshirt, as Sarah nonchalantly stirred the gravy, wearing one of those floral dresses she liked so much.
His Adam's apple bobbed violently when Jason casually adjusted the hem of his dayshirt, pulling it down as he looked at me, equally clothed but in a different colour. "You're...you're not wearing..." Billy stammered.
Sarah turned with the wooden spoon still dripping gravy. "Billy Peabody, close your mouth before you catch flies," as her floral dress swished as she stepped forward, pressing a motherly kiss to Billy's cheek that made him blush crimson. "Jason and Steve prefer comfort over convention. Surely you've heard the talk in town?"
Billy's knuckles whitened around the bunch of flowers he still held. "I saw you guys yesterday, and Jason, you were wearing a kilt then. You looked sick, by the way."
"Sick, who's sick?" Sarah demanded to know.
Realising the phrase was lost on Sarah, I saved the moment. "Sarah, in modern slang, the expression 'sick’ is a highly positive adjective used to mean cool, excellent, impressive, or amazing. It is widely used in informal conversation, particularly among younger people, gamers, and those in extreme sports culture."
"Oh," was all she said as silence engulfed the conversation until Jason broke it with a soft laugh, leaning against the counter in a way that made his shirt gape at the neckline. "Relax, Billy. We don't bite unless asked nicely," as he took the flowers with a wink that sent the boy into a coughing fit. “For me?”
“No. For Mrs Blake,” Billy pointed out, realising too late that Jason was being flippant.
I watched Billy's pulse flutter at his throat as Sarah guided him to a chair, his knees buckling slightly when Jason brushed past him to fetch glasses. The kitchen smelled of roast beef and the sharp citrus of Billy's nervous sweat. When Jason bent to retrieve a dropped napkin, giving Billy an unobstructed view up his thighs, the boy made a sound like a stepped-on mouse.
Sarah caught my eye over Billy's head as she poured sweet tea, her smirk confirming she'd orchestrated this entire scenario. Jason's bare thigh pressed against mine under the table, warm and solid, as Billy Peabody's world tilted on its axis between sips of lemonade.
Creating conversation, I asked Billy how he came to be here. "Oh, I bumped into Mrs Blake in town and..."
Sarah interjected, saying, "Apparently, Billy has some questions he wants to ask Jason, and so, here he is after I invited him for lunch with the three of us.
"Oh," I responded, raising my eyebrow. "Go ahead, Billy, ask whatever you like. We are all friends here, and we don't lie. Honesty is the only way forward for all of us."
Billy sat for a while. "I...uh..." as his fingers drummed the checkered tablecloth. "I mostly wanted to ask..." His gaze flicked to Jason's exposed collarbone, where his shirt gaped open. "How you got the guts to wear..." He gestured vaguely at Jason's attire with a trembling hand. "Don't get me wrong. I like what you are wearing, but..."
Jason leaned forward. "Which part do you like? The kilt yesterday or this dayshirt today?"
It was obvious Jason knew exactly what he was doing, the little shit I thought as the sunlight caught the silver scar on his knee, the one he got from the axe, chopping wood.
Billy's fork clattered onto his plate. Sarah sighed and slid the bread basket toward him. "Eat something before you faint, boy."
I watched understanding dawn on Jason's face as Billy stammered, "No, well yes, well… I mean, how don't care what people say about..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "About you two...being...and what you wear."
"Queer, you mean?" Jason supplied cheerfully, kicking me under the table when I choked on my potatoes. "Honestly, Billy, it's easier when you've got someone like Steve who'll punch your uncle's teeth out for you."
Sarah snorted into her wine. Billy's wide eyes darted between us, lingering on my hands, which had healed without a mark. The roast beef suddenly tasted more personal as Jason's foot hooked around my ankle, a silent apology.
"Or," Jason continued softly, "when you've got folks like my mum who don't give a damn who you love," as he reached across the table, startling Billy by squeezing his wrist. "But I'm guessing you don't have either of those things, do you?"
Billy's breath hitched. Outside, a bluebird struck the window with a soft thud. Sarah stood abruptly. "Right. I'll fetch pudding. You three talk." Her chair scraped loud enough to cover Billy's quiet sob.
Jason didn't let go of his wrist. My chest ached watching Billy's shoulders shake, knowing exactly how heavy that first unclenched breath felt when someone finally saw you. Really saw you.
"For the record," Jason said, thumb tracing circles over Billy's pulse point, "I'm gay. Madly in love with this grumpy bastard," as he jerked his chin toward me with a crooked grin. "And the kilt? The dayshirt? Instigated by Steve, the first time we met. Thought him weird when I saw him, but after chatting about his weird attire, I got it. Christ, did I get it. The freedom, no fabric strangling your thighs, no zippers biting your…. And no worrying about what to wear when you wake up in the morning. Wake up in a nightshirt, and by the time you get downstairs, you have a dayshirt."
“Jason, you’re not giving proper context for why I wear them.”
Taking a pause, I continued. “Billy, historically, nightshirts were worn during the day primarily because they evolved from a ‘shift’, a versatile linen undergarment or dress intended for continuous use under daytime clothing and for warmth at night. Furthermore, the loose cotton or linen design of the nightshirt mirrored the practical construction of work smocks, making them comfortable and functional for light labour or chores in rural and working-class environments.”
“Okay, Professor, enough of the history lesson,” as Billy stammered a little as he asked. "I understand. Is it also true what they say at school about you?"
Sarah cleared her throat pointedly from the pantry doorway, peach cobbler steaming in her hands. "Billy, my son’s hung like a bleeding stallion. Trust me, it's true. Even his doctor sighs in envy."
"Mum, really? Do you mind if I answer the questions?" Jason insisted, continuing. "Wearing a nightshirt in bed at night also allows me to wear them during the day as dayshirts. Same principle as a kilt, but not for town wear if you get me.”
Billy's laugh came out half-strangled, his free hand swiping at his eyes. Sunlight caught the silver milk jug as Sarah served dessert, deliberately clattering plates to give the boy time to compose himself. Jason finally released Billy's wrist only to steal a bite of cobbler from my plate, licking peach syrup off his thumb with exaggerated relish.
The tension cracked when Billy blurted, "Your uncle deserved worse," staring at my knuckles with something like awe. Sarah dropped her spoon with a clang. Jason threw his head back laughing, the sound bouncing off the copper pans overhead.
"It seems everyone knows thanks to the Sheriff," I said.
Billy's gaze snagged on the strip of bare thigh at the bottom of Jason’s dayshirt, his breathing going shallow. “The whole town knows thanks to the Sheriff and…. The Pastor. He told folks, forgiveness is divine, and your uncle got what was due. I think he mentioned retribution during his last sermon.”
“Wow, we made the town gossip pages, to the point, even the Pastor had an opinion,” I stated as Jason noticed Billy staring at his knee.
Of course, Jason noticed, deliberately stretching that way, the fabric pulling taut across his chest as he whispered loudly, "Careful, Billy, you'll make Steve jealous."
I kicked him under the table hard enough to make him yelp. Sarah sighed heavenward as Billy turned the colour of her raspberry jam. "Children," she muttered, but her eyes sparkled when Jason leaned across the table, shirt gaping, and whispered something that made my ears burn crimson.
Outside, a tractor rumbled past the kitchen window, its driver tipping his cap at Sarah through the glass. I realised then that normal life was moving on around us as Billy Peabody was taking his first gasping breath of oxygen in a world that suddenly had room for him.
The rest of lunch was filled with laughter and answers to lots of questions Billy had, until a natural lull occurred. Sarah took advantage of the moment by suggesting, "Time, boys, to clear up and think about what to do next."
We washed dishes shoulder-to-shoulder at the sink, Billy's trembling hands passing plates to Jason, who scrubbed with exaggerated vigour, soap suds clinging to his forearms. Sarah orchestrated the dance with quiet efficiency, her occasional touches to Billy's back drawing him deeper into the rhythm of domesticity. The scent of lemon detergent mixed with the lingering sweetness of cobbler, the clatter of china filling silences where words might have been too sharp.
"You'll stain that nice shirt of yours, Billy," Sarah tutted when he reached for the gravy boat, dunking his sleeve in dishwater. "Why don't you take it off, Billy? I can ask Jason to lend you one of his dayshirts to wear, if you like."
"It's alright, Mrs Blake, I'll be fine," Billy responded, looking at Jason and me in ours. "I'm… not sure."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Billy. I can see you're wearing a vest underneath that shirt of yours; it's not as if we'll see anything," as she yanked Billy's polo shirt over his head herself, ignoring his strangled noise. "There. Now you're practically family," as the boy stood flushed and skinny in his white vest and shorts.
Billy relaxed a little, looking at me again and then at Jason. "It's fine
Billy," I said, trying to assure him there was nothing to worry about. "You don't have to wear a dayshirt like Jason and me, if you don't want to. You can stay like that for now."
"I'm just not used to... wearing a nightshirt, sorry, dayshirt. My dad would say it's a bit weird dressing like that. He'd probably even say, it looks like a dress."
"Billy, he wouldn’t be wrong if he went by historical fact. I wear them because it's relaxing for me when at home. Jason wears it because.... for him its a comfortable solution to his physical challenge. Everyone wears what they like when at home. Some guys stroll around in their boxers, others in their underpants, others stay nude, and others wear dressing gowns. What do you wear at home when relaxed?"
"I guess you're right. We all spend time around the house in our tighty whities. Its sort of second nature. I even go out into the garden in mine. It's just normal for us."
"Well, there you go. That’s your way," Jason responded. This is our way, and even mum wears a nightie for most of the day when not planning to go out."
"Jason!"
"Sorry, Mum."
Billy's fingers twitched at the hem of his shorts, his gaze flicking between Jason's bare legs beneath his dayshirt, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple despite the kitchen's coolness.
I watched the internal battle play out across his face, the way his jaw tightened when Jason stretched, the flash of longing when the cotton fabric rode up Jason's thigh. Not enough to see anything but, Billy looked with a mixture of desire and trepidation.
I decided. "I get the feeling, Billy, that you're conflicted being in the company of two gay men for the first time. I also think you want to take those shorts of yours off and... relax like you would at home. We're only going for a walk. No one will see you.... well, we will, but it's all about freedom of expression and being yourself."
Sarah returned to the kitchen, having put everything in the pantry. "He's right, you know, Billy, Sarah stated. "Do what you think is right for you. Express yourself and enjoy the freedom that our little family unit can provide. God knows, you need us as an alternative to the testosterone-fuelled life in which you live at home."
Billy hesitated before nodding slowly, surprising us with a smile as his fingers hovered at the waistband of his shorts, glancing at Jason for reassurance. “You promise you won’t mind, and please don’t laugh. I still wear tighty whities, unlike all the boys my age at school, and they laugh at me all the time, but dad says, real men wear tighty whities, so he won’t allow me to buy anything else.”
Jason gave an exaggerated shrug. I just stood at the back door, caring not, but feeling this was an important moment in Billy's life, and we had to support him.
I'm sure Sarah got what I was thinking, having orchestrated the event as a way for Billy to come out in a safe environment. Then she snorted, tossing a dish towel over her shoulder. "Lord, Billy, I've seen more skin than a dermatologist with these two often naked in front of me. Seeing a nice body in a vest and tighty whities will actually be refreshing for a change," as she reached past him to pluck a plum from the fruit bowl, her casualness loosening the tension in Billy's shoulders.
Sarah glanced at me with a smirk, chewing her plum slowly as Billy's fingers curled around the waistband of his shorts. "Go on then," she said, "peel those off and let me have a proper look at you first. Jason, Steve, get out. This is important for Billy."
Jason grabbed my wrist, dragging me through the screen door onto the porch, where the afternoon heat hit like a slap.
"Mum's doing her witchcraft again," he murmured, pressing me against the sun-warmed wall as we eavesdropped through the kitchen window, hearing the clatter of a belt buckle hitting the floor. "He's done it, he's lost the shorts."
"Jason, for fucks sake, chill. He's just nervous and needs your mum's support at the moment. This is his milestone. Yours was when I asked you to show me, you," I reminded Jason.
"Yeah, alright. You're right, I guess," Jason responded to my comment.
Inside the house, away from our prying eyes, Sarah's muffled voice floated through the screen, warm, amused and disarmingly casual. "Well now, Billy Peabody. Look at you. Proper white cotton, same as my Jason now wears when he has to. Likewise, Steve wears them too, but he's older and still prefers them to other types of briefs. Now, stand up straight, let me see properly."
Billy stood ramrod straight in his vest and briefs, his thighs shaking slightly under Sarah's maternal appraisal.
"Nice," she murmured, circling him like a sergeant inspecting a recruit. The overhead light caught the sweat beading along his collarbone. "They fit well," as her finger hooked into the waistband, snapping it against his hipbone with a sound that made him jump. "Clean. Very presentable," she said, stepping back, arms crossed, her gaze lingering pointedly lower. “And...nice outline. Someone normal for a change."
"You sure, Mrs Blake?"
"Quite sure, now out you go and meet your friend and his lover for the first time with confidence," she instructed. "Remember, you wanted this, and I've helped you get to this point. Don't waste the moment."
Billy hesitated before slipping his sandals on and came outside to find Jason and Steve sitting on the decking, our dayshirts riding up as we sprawled in the afternoon sun. My breath caught when Billy stepped onto the porch, his pale arms flashing in contrast to his vest, his white briefs clinging to his hips with heartbreaking innocence. He actually looked stunning, the white garments supporting his obvious purity and virginity.
Jason whistled low under his breath, "You look great, Billy. I love the look. Now, can we go for our walk?"
“Where are you going, boys? Sarah demanded, standing in the doorway. “I might come with you if you’re going to the pool in the river. I fancy a dip, and it’s the first warm day of spring,” she declared.
“The pool it is,” Jason confirmed. Shall we wait for you, Mum?
“I’ll catch you up, so just go when ready.”
Billy's grin was sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He took two jerky steps forward before adjusting his stride to match ours, the unfamiliar freedom making him stumble over tree roots in his sandals. The Bluebells trembled as we passed, their perfume thickening where our bare legs brushed through the undergrowth. Jason's dayshirt rode up as he scrambled over a fallen birch, giving Billy an eyeful of pale thigh that made the boy bite his lip.
"Stream's just past the ridge," Jason said, as I watched Billy's knuckles whiten around a sapling as he navigated the slope. His briefs clung damply to his ass where sweat had darkened the cotton. Jason noticed, too, of course he did, and slowed to let Billy pass, his gaze lingering with predatory appreciation.
We reached the pool just as a trout broke the surface, its silver flank glinting before vanishing into peat-coloured water. Billy gasped, forgetting his self-consciousness long enough to crouch at the water's edge.
Jason was first to strip. I followed suit, holding Jason’s hand as we waded in the water. Billy stared at our naked forms as his vest gaped, revealing a stripe of sunburn across his shoulders.
“You are coming in, Billy?” Jason asked. “It’s lovely.
Billy hesitated, fingers twisting the hem of his vest. The river chuckled over smooth stones, mocking his indecision. A dragonfly darted between us, its iridescent wings catching the light as it hovered near Billy's knee, as his hands rested over his groin.
"I can't," Billy replied.
Jason and I exchanged glances. Billy was trying so hard to hide it, but the tent in his briefs was unmistakable. Poor kid, I whispered to myself, remembering that feeling and the panic of having an unwanted erection.
"Billy, nobody cares," I said, "I expect the river's seen worse than your cock, trust me."
Billy made a choked noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. Then, with a suddenness that startled a kingfisher into flight, he yanked his vest over his head and hooked his thumbs into his briefs. The cotton slid down lean thighs, catching briefly on his erection before pooling around his sandals, which he kicked away.
Jason and I submerged simultaneously, not out of modesty, but to give Billy space. The cold shock of water against overheated skin made my balls tighten. Through the distortion of the current, I watched Billy's legs waver as he stepped onto rocks, his cock bobbing proudly, flushed pink at the tip where a bead of moisture caught the sunlight.
Sarah's laughter preceded her arrival, bare feet slapping against wet stone as her nightie billowed behind her like a surrender flag. The thin fabric turned to liquid against her breasts when she plunged in, nipples darkening visibly beneath the clinging cotton. "Christ, it's freezing!" she yelped, splashing Billy directly in the chest, the water hitting him like a baptism as he laughed freely in response.
Billy's erection didn't flag. If anything, it seemed to harden further when Jason pushed him under the water, and Sarah flicked her sopping hair back, droplets catching in her cleavage. He cupped himself instinctively, then froze, realising we were all watching, not with judgment, but with shared understanding. Jason moved first, launching himself at Sarah with a war cry that sent water arcing over Billy's shoulders. The kid gasped, then grinned, and just like that, the spell broke.
We became a tangle of limbs and laughter. Billy dunked me with surprising strength, his fingers lingering a second too long on my shoulders as I came up spluttering. Sarah's nightie rode up her thighs when she straddled Jason's back to push him under, revealing the shadow between her legs. The river carried our shouts downstream where the Bluebells bent to listen. Billy's joy was a physical thing, uncontained, unselfconscious, as he shook water from his hair like a dog, droplets catching in his lashes.
When we all finally collapsed on the bank, panting, Billy lay sprawled between us, his softening cock resting against his thigh. Sarah wrung out her nightie without ceremony, the wet fabric slapping against her stomach. "Next time," she announced, "I'm doing this naked like you lot," as all three of us men provided an answering smile that was brighter than the sun on the water.
Jason noticed Billy's nipples stood taut against his body, as his renewed arousal became unmistakable, pocking straight up at the sky. Jason rolled over more to let his thumbs rub circles on Billy's hipbones. "You alright?" Jason murmured, voice rougher than the river stones underfoot.
Billy nodded jerkily as Jason's fingers flexed against Billy's waist. The moment stretched, taut as a fishing line before the strike, as I watched, knowing Jason wanted to take Billy and that I had consented verbally during a brief conversation with Jason outside, while waiting for Billy's inspection to finish with Sarah.
Then Sarah's voice cut through the moment as we lay there. "Boys! I brought towels!"
Billy froze. His throat worked soundlessly as Jason's nakedness registered, the scars, the muscle, the undeniable truth of Sarah's earlier boast swinging heavy between his thighs. Jason didn't give him time to recover, though. "Stand up. I want to dry you, Billy," he ordered.
The boy obeyed mechanically, his breath hitching as cool air hit his torso as he stood naked, with a raging hard-on, as Jason started to dry him, like a child.
Sarah had got up and was leaning against an oak, arms crossed, in her drying nightie, as I joined her, watching Jason kneel to dry his legs, moving Billy’s hands from his groin. "None of that," he chided, rubbing the towel roughly over Billy's goosefleshed thighs. "Remember, you're among friends."
Billy's body reacted immediately to Jason's touch, his erection bobbing between them, rosy and demanding attention. Jason didn't react beyond a twitch of his lips as he scrubbed the towel up Billy's inner thigh, deliberately grazing him. Sarah cleared her throat. "Jason, stop torturing the boy," she said, though her eyes danced as Billy whimpered.
Jason tossed the towel aside and stood, his own arousal brushing Billy's hip. "Better?" he murmured, palming the back of Billy's neck to pull him close. Their breath mingled, Jason, smelling of river moss and hormones, Billy of nervous adrenaline. The boy shuddered, his hands hovering over Jason's waist before finally settling, tentative, on bare hips.
Sarah sighed. "Well. That's one way to dry off," she said, turning to drape a towel over my shoulders with exaggerated nonchalance as over Billy's shoulder, Jason winked at me, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns on the small of Billy's back.
"Billy, you know you're hard, don't you?" Jason advised.
Billy just nodded in response, his eyes darting between Jason's face and the unmistakable evidence of his own arousal. “So are you, Jason,” Billy replied
Sarah and I exchanged glances, hers amused, mine knowing, before I suggested, "We should walk back to the house, and leave Billy to Jason's tender mercies and some privacy."
Sarah surprised me, though, by saying, "No, not yet. I want to watch. Billy trusted me, and I'm sort of part of this event, having orchestrated it," as we put a little distance between us and the riverbank, finding another suitable tree to lean against but still able to see and hear Billy's nervous laughter.
Sarah plucked a Bluebell stem, twirling it between her fingers. "That boy's been starved of kindness and deprived of sexual freedom his whole life," she mused, crushing the petals absently. "Jason will be gentle with him. Mostly."
I grinned at her choice of adverb, remembering how Jason's version of "gentle" still left bruises sometimes, but the good kind.
Jason tipped Billy's chin up with two fingers. The boy's breathing hitched when Jason's thumb brushed his lower lip. "Can I deal with that for you?" Jason murmured again, nodding toward Billy's straining erection. The river had washed away any pretence of modesty as Billy's body arched toward Jason's touch like a sunflower tracking daylight.
Sarah exhaled sharply through her nose when Jason sank to his knees on the riverbank. Billy gasped as Jason's tongue traced the vein along his shaft, exploratory at first, then purposeful when Billy's hips jerked. I knew that technique; having been on the receiving end, the way Jason teased the frenulum with kittenish flicks before hollowing his cheeks around Billy's cockhead. Billy's fingers tangled in Jason's damp hair as Jason worked him deeper, his throat vibrating around a moan when Billy's balls drew tight against his body.
The scent of river water and male musk hung thick between them. Jason's shoulders flexed as he swallowed Billy whole, his nose pressing into the thatch of dark pubic hair at the base. Billy made a punched-out noise, his thighs quivering as Jason's hands gripped his hips, steadying him, claiming him. Sarah's fingers dug into my forearm when Billy's back arched, his cry scattering a pair of wood pigeons from the alders overhead, signifying he had climaxed. Jason didn't stop, though, until Billy was whimpering, oversensitive and shaking, his cum dripping from Jason's chin onto the crushed bluebells beneath them.
Jason rose, kissing Billy, allowing him to taste himself for the first time, catching Billy before his legs gave out. The boy clung to him, forehead pressed to Jason's shoulder, while Sarah murmured, "Well, that's one way to christen the young man."
Her voice shook slightly, betraying the flush creeping up her neck as she observed Jason smirking over Billy's shoulder, licking a stray droplet from his lip as Billy's fingers traced the scars on Jason's chest, tentative and reverent. "Still nervous?" Jason teased, pressing a kiss to Billy's temple that made the younger man shiver.
Billy shook his head, his voice wrecked but steady. "Not anymore."
Jason's answering grin was all teeth as he guided Billy's hand lower, their fingers intertwining over the evidence of Jason's own arousal. "It's so huge, Jason," Billy declared. "How long is it?
"Long enough, Billy, as you can feel," Jason responded, “and it could be yours when you’re ready.”
I looked at Sarah, who looked down at me to see my erection pocking straight out, and she blushed a deep red I had not seen before from her normally cool demeanour. Sarah then cleared her throat in response. "Right, you lot. Towels," she announced, "Wrap them around you, before you catch your death," as her gaze lingered on the way Billy's thumb rubbed circles over Jason's knuckles, the first unguarded touch of many she felt sure.
Jason was last to cover himself, reluctantly draping the towel over his hips after Billy shyly tucked his own towel around his waist. The walk back to the house was quiet, save for the crunch of twigs underfoot and the occasional nervous giggle from Billy when Jason's towel slipped. Sarah led the way, her shoulders stiff beneath her nightie, her fingers gripping the towel basket handle tighter than necessary.
I matched her pace, my own towel tenting shamelessly whenever Jason lagged to whisper something that made Billy's ears turn pink. Sarah's gaze flickered sideways once, just once, when Jason's laugh carried through the trees, rich and unguarded. The look she gave me wasn't disgust, nor embarrassment, but something far more complicated; the quiet awe of a woman who'd spent years scrubbing grass stains from kneecaps, suddenly confronted with the raw mechanics of manhood in an intimate manner she had never witnessed before.
"Sarah, let the boys go ahead a moment. I need to ask you something?"
"What's wrong?" she demanded to know.
"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to ask, how you're feeling about all this. You seem okay, but I suspect that was the first time you witnessed that between two men."
Sarah paused, crushing a dry leaf between her fingers. The scent of damp earth rose between us as she exhaled. "I delivered babies for twenty years, Steve. Seen more naked men than a Navy medic." Her voice wavered despite the bravado.
Taking a pause, she glanced toward the distant figures of Jason and Billy disappearing into the tree line, their laughter carrying back to us. "But watching my son take a virgin young man in an intimate moment, like that, yes, that’s new and so....I'll tell you, Steve, hetero couples could learn a thing or two from just watching Jason and Billy, let alone the way you show such tenderness and love for Jason. I'm pleased he found you. He's now a very different boy, sorry, man, thanks to you."
I couldn't think of a suitable response, so as my cock became flaccid once more, I took Sarah's hand as a sign of thanks for trusting me, trusting us, with Billy’s moment of awakening.
"What happens now?" Sarah asked as we walked.
"At some point, Billy will want to experience more. In many respects, what he's just experienced will open a floodgate of emotions and....well, let's just say, he will want to have sex. Its a natural response for anyone after their first time."
Sarah paused, stepping over a fallen branch with surprising grace for a woman her age. "I like Billy," she admitted, rubbing her thumb along a scratch on her wrist. "He's got good bones under all that nervous energy. But I worry, once he realises what he's been missing, he might...seek it in the wrong places. Back alleys, strangers' cars." Pausing a minute, her mouth twisted. "Boys like him get hurt that way."
"It’s always going to be a danger," I replied to her observations.
"Maybe....,"
"Maybe what, Sarah?" I demanded.
"Maybe, you or Jason can help," she suggested, her voice low as we reached the edge of the clearing. Ahead, Billy was kneeling by the porch steps, inspecting something in the grass while Jason stood over him, his huge cock waiting to be taken.
We continued to watch from afar as Sarah continued, her grip tightening on my arm. "Not just sex, though God knows he needs guidance there, but how to be safe. How to know who to trust."
Now completely distracted by events on the porch, Sarah and I watched as Billy's lips stretched around Jason's girth, his inexperienced mouth struggling to accommodate the length. Jason murmured something, probably encouragement, his fingers carding gently through Billy's damp hair. The boy's cheeks hollowed as he sucked, his Adam's apple bobbing with each tentative swallow.
Sarah exhaled sharply. "Christ, he's got no technique at all."
I smirked. "Jason will teach him. Patience is part of the lesson."
The scene unfolded like a slow-motion dream, Jason's hips rolling forward, Billy's fingers digging into his thighs, the wet sounds carrying across the clearing. Sarah's pulse fluttered visibly at her throat. "Should we...interrupt?"
Before I could answer, Billy pulled off with a gasp, his lips slick and swollen. Jason crouched to whisper in his ear, one hand guiding Billy's fingers to wrap around his cock. The boy's grip was clumsy but earnest, his strokes uneven until Jason corrected his rhythm with murmured instructions.
Sarah made a small, wounded noise. "He's shaking."
"He's perfect," I countered, watching Billy lean in again, this time with more confidence. His tongue flicked experimentally along the underside, earning a throaty groan from Jason that made the boy's eyes widen.
Sarah's nails bit into my arm. "This is what I mean, he needs someone to show him it's not just about taking but giving. About mutual pleasure."
Jason's head tipped back as Billy found a rhythm, his hands cupping the back of Billy's head not to force, but to steady. The boy moaned around him, the vibration drawing a ragged curse from Jason's lips.
Sarah turned abruptly, her face flushed. "Enough. They'll...they'll figure it out," as she marched toward the house, her shoulders rigid.
I lingered just long enough to see Jason's hips stutter, his fingers tightening in Billy's hair as the boy took him deeper, swallowing around the swell with a muffled whimper. It was obvious that Jason had climaxed as Billy pulled quickly off his cock, spitting cum from his mouth and then taking his cock again, this time using his tongue to lick Jason's seed from its head.
I chuckled, knowing how much cum Jason could produce, and I almost felt sorry for Billy, being his first time.
Catching up to Sarah on the front porch steps instead of the back door, I found her staring at the horizon, her knuckles white on the railing. "He'll be sore tomorrow," she muttered.
I grinned. "Who? Jason? Worth it, but the way it's going, it might be Billy."
Inside, the kettle whistled like an alarm. Sarah busied herself with tea, her movements sharp. "You'll check on him later? Make sure he's...coping, I hope?"
"Jason won't let him leave unsatisfied," I assured her.
She slammed a mug down. "I meant emotionally, you damn fool."
I was feeling totally chastised when the back door banged open. Billy staggered in, lips bruised, eyes dazed, with a smile that beamed from ear to ear. Jason followed, his grin feral. "Lesson one," he announced, "complete." as Sarah's teacup clattered, and Billy collapsed into a chair, his thighs rubbing together unconsciously. Jason winked at me over his head, suggesting it had been an adventure, indeed.
"Right, you lot, including you, Steve. Shower time. You all have to warm up after that cold water," and so we all walked to the bathroom to shower, while I felt in trouble for misunderstanding Sarah, while the boys just, well, shared the moment that was always going to happen.
Sarah marched into the steamy bathroom with an armful of folded cotton, her nurse’s no-nonsense stride cutting through the mist like she was back on hospital rounds. "Out," she ordered, tossing a pair of tighty whities at Jason's chest, sticking to his damp skin before sliding down his torso with a wet plop. "You'll catch pneumonia cavorting naked in May, and it doesn’t help that you left your stuff by the pool, so you’ll have to make do with these."
Billy yelped when another pair hit his face as he was stepping out of the shower, the fabric wrapping around his forehead. Jason caught mine one-handed, his smirk visible through the steam as Billy struggled to peel the clinging briefs off his eyelashes. Steam curled around Sarah’s exasperated sigh when Jason deliberately shook water from his hair like a Labrador, spraying droplets across the tiles.
Jason’s grin widened as he tugged his briefs up slowly, watching Sarah’s gaze skitter away from the damp spot darkening the cotton over his groin as his erection refused to completely dwindle.
Billy’s fingers trembled on his waistband. "Ma’am, these’re…" as he flushed, the contrast stark against his fair skin.
Sarah softened her approach to Billy. "Fresh from the dryer," she confirmed. "Now quit dawdling, supper’s getting cold," as she turned, but not before her hand patted Billy’s shoulder blade, as Jason intercepted the gesture, pressing a kiss to her temple that made her swat at him half-heartedly.
In the hallway, Sarah paused, her reflection warped in a foggy mirror. The men’s muffled laughter followed her as Jason teased Billy about his "pristine packaging," Billy’s breathless retort swallowed by a giggle. She exhaled, pressing her forehead to the cool glass. Twenty years delivering babies and healing people, yet nothing prepared her for this: the unscripted choreography of male intimacy, remembering the way Billy’s spine had arched like a bowstring under Jason’s mouth.
Downstairs, silverware clattered as I set the table. Sarah squared her shoulders. There’d be time tomorrow, for questions and discussions on boundaries, I thought. Tonight, it was obvious to any observer, including me, that Sarah was preoccupied with ladling stew into bowls too large, pretending not to notice when Billy grew another erection before sitting down, and letting Jason’s knee jostle mine under the table like a twelve-year-old, seeking unspoken approval as my foot played with his enormous cock under the table.
The tighty whities, at least, were clean as silence descended around the table as we all ate supper. The sexual tension was not clean as the boys spoke in innuendo and double meaning. The only question that remained in my mind was, when would Billy submit himself to losing his virginity properly and with whom?
As he finished his bowl, Billy pushed his chair back with a scrape that made Sarah wince. "I should," His fingers plucked at his borrowed briefs. "Dad will wonder."
The lie hung limp between us, considering we all knew his father's Saturday night ritual involved six-packs and ESPN reruns until he passed out in his recliner.
Jason caught Billy's wrist before he could flee. "Try and come back if you can, or if not, tomorrow," he murmured, thumb stroking the delicate skin under Billy's watch.
I watched the boy's throat work as he nodded, his free hand drifting unconsciously to his crotch, adjusting himself through the thin cotton. The front door clicked shut behind him moments later, leaving the scent of river water and young lust lingering in the hallway as he walked to his old banger, parked out the front, carrying his t-shirt and shorts.
Jason caught me as I stood, hauling me against him with a growl. "You wait until we get home," he declared as he breathed into my neck, his erection pressing insistently through damp briefs. I'm sure I could still taste Billy on his lips when we kissed, that bright, metallic tang of first-time nerves and swallowed pride, but I didn’t care as we played tongues while kissing deeper.
Sarah's teacup clattered into the sink. "For God's sake, you two."
"Sorry, Mum," Jason muttered as he headed out the door.
"Sorry, Mrs B," I said, and sorry for the misunderstanding earlier."
Sarah waved a teacloth vaguely at the door," Go on, get out of here, and I'll see you tomorrow."
Jason didn't need telling twice, grabbing my hand as we bolted for the treeline. The fading light turned the bluebells to bruises underfoot as we ran, Jason's laughter bouncing off the birches. "What a lovely day," he panted when we reached the clearing, his fingers already working at the waistband of my briefs. The fallen trunk lay exactly where it should be; nothing had moved it since the incident with his uncle.
I remembered Richard choosing the same spot for darker purposes. This time would be different as Jason's palm pressed hot between my shoulder blades as he bent me over the weathered oak, his teeth scraping my nape in a way that made my knees buckle. "Told you it was suitable," he growled, popping the lid on the lube he had liberated from his mother's bathroom, slicking himself, reading for action. The first thrust knocked a grunt from both of us, the impact reverberating up my spine as he started to enter me.
Jason set a brutal pace from the start, his hips pistoning with the same single-minded intensity he'd shown Billy by the river—no finesse, just claiming. My forearms slid on the damp bark as he hiked one of my legs up, changing the angle so his pubis ground against me with every snap of his hips. Someone screamed; it might've been me, but I worried not as Fireflies blinked in the periphery like voyeurs as Jason's rhythm stuttered, his fingers digging crescent moons into my hips.
Jason was reclaiming me, the orgasm ripping through me with violent clarity, my back arching as Jason's cock milked me dry, forcing my release over the wood on which I lay. He followed seconds later with a bitten-off curse, his cum shooting into me as I felt the renewed warmth of his seed flow from his cock, before collapsing over me. We stayed like that, breathing ragged, until the first mosquito whined near my ear. Jason nuzzled the sweat-damp hair at my temple. "Enough for you?"
I turned around to sit on the trunk, wrapping my legs around him. "Enough?” as I kissed him hard. “No. Not enough. Take me again before you lose it," I insisted.
Jason exhaled sharply, hands framing my face as he entered me slowly this time, no urgency, just the deliberate press of skin against skin. The bark scraped my thighs, but I barely noticed; his rhythm was different now, deeper. He kissed me with the same unhurried cadence, tongue tracing mine like he was mapping familiar territory with new reverence. The fireflies cast erratic shadows across his shoulders, where sweat pooled in the hollows of old scars.
The shift in him was palpable, where before had been frenzied reclamation, now was lingering rediscovery. His thumbs brushed the sensitive skin behind my knees, where they hooked around his waist, each shallow thrust punctuated by murmured groans and grunts.
Jason's pace stuttered when I clenched around him, his forehead dropping to mine with a gasp. "Christ, you feel...." The rest dissolved into a groan as I rocked up to meet him, our sweat-slicked chests sliding together. His next thrust bottomed out, the choked noise he made vibrating through my ribcage.
Some lovers leave marks; this one left echoes. Jason's hips moved in slow, devastating circles, the kind designed to unravel me thread by thread. His breath hitched when I dragged a hand between us, thumbing the head of his cock where it stretched me open. "Look at you," he rasped, pupils blown wide in the moonlight. "Taking me like you were made for it."
“And wasn't I?” I wondered. “Of course I was, made for him, irrevocably, as the night folded around us, no audience, no interruptions, just this: the creak of the old oak beneath us, the wet slap of skin, and Jason whispering my name like a prayer as he came undone inside me once more.
His hips jerked erratically against mine, his release hotter this time, more intimate, less than before, but still enough to spill over when he finally pulled out, dripping onto the moss below. Jason’s forehead pressed to mine as we caught our breath, his fingers tracing the bite mark on my shoulder from earlier. "Still think Billy’s too innocent for this?" he murmured, licking the salt from my collarbone.
"Maybe," I replied to Jason's question. "But he's not so innocent anymore."
Jason chuckled as he pulled me off the trunk. "It's dark," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "We should get home."
“What about our nightshirts? Shouldn’t we get them? I asked.
“There’s always tomorrow, Steve,” Jason suggested. “Let’s get home.”
The night air prickled against sweat-slicked skin as we resumed our walk home, the forest alive with rustling leaves and distant owl cries. Jason’s fingers lingered on my hip, possessive even now, as we navigated the moonlit path back toward the house. Fireflies winked around us like embers from a dying fire, their glow catching the sheen on Jason’s shoulders where my nails had left faint red trails.
The light of my house came into light as we broke the cover of the trees, walking across the meadow, which was my back garden. Jason stood in front of me as I wrapped my arms around him, looking at the house, murmuring into his ear. "I doubt Billy will be back this evening, but we certainly gave him something to think about as he lies in bed tonight."
Jason laughed out loud. "We sure did, and you should have seen him giving his first blowjob. All fingers and thumbs until I eventually explained the technique and then... let's just say, he learns quickly."
I decided not to tell Jason that his mum and I had watched the whole performance, preferring instead to suggest, "I'm tired. Let's go and watch TV."
Jason yawned in response. "Yeah, let's, taking my hand and pulling me through the back door. "Tomorrow is another day."
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