Nate and I went about the rest of the day as if nothing had happened. He returned to work after our session in his bedroom, and that evening we all had dinner quietly together, a sort of normalcy setting back in.
“How’d you spend the day, Kev?” Uncle Jack asked.
I glanced at Nate, who hardly met my eyes, instead reaching for a roll from the bread basket.
“Just read for a while,” I told him, “caught up on summer school work.”
“We’ll do that kayak trip tomorrow,” he promised. “I haven’t forgotten.” He put his napkin on the table, his plate clean. “After all, what’s the point of being up here all cooped up inside?”
I could hardly think of anything better, I realized, than being stuck inside with Nate.
Welcome to Holden, he’d said.
I wanted to know what that meant. What more could happen after a show like that?
In bed that night, I was restless, hardly able to sleep, my hard-on relentless. I jerked off again, just to check that I really knew how. But the second I finished, I only became hard again, the desire in me hardly receding. Instead, it seemed to do the opposite, recharging.
How much cum did I have in me, I wondered?
I imagined it as a finite resource, that if I kept going, I’d somehow, inevitably, run out.
But that hardly seemed to be the case.
I fell asleep with my dick in my hand, dried cum around the tip of my cock, my body finally spent, even if my libido was not.
I awoke the next morning to the sounds of car doors slamming, peering out the window to see Nate getting out of his truck with someone new, a lumbering figure, his head downward cast in shadow.
I’m almost forgotten it was Wednesday, the day his friend was set to arrive.
Greg.
Pulling myself together and throwing some water on my face, I padded my way downstairs to find them all in the kitchen, a new energy already palpable in the house.
Beside Nate was a hunk of a man, his figure imposing, catching me off guard. Whereas Nate was lean muscle, a kind of 90s Ryan Phillipe, Greg was big, far bigger than Nate. He had a solid two inches on him, hovering around 6’3, his body that kind of mass that always intimidated me, muscles on his body seemingly pumped up, inflated, a thin layer of flesh coating the sinew below in the way I imagined would be pillow-y soft to my touch.
This was as best as I could surmise from what was suggested through his t-shirt, its hem tucked neatly into a pair of elasticated shorts. His tan was even deeper than Nate’s. I wondered what his background was. Italian? Greek?
I looked up bashfully at him, trying to conceal how uncomfortably hot he made me.
“Ah, you’re up!” my Aunt said brightly. “Kevin, this is Greg. He’ll be with us for a few days from Westbrook.”
“Kevin, my man,” Greg intoned, his voice deep. He leaned in to shake my hand, his grip firm, strong. “Your cousin’s told me all about you.”
He smiled widely, his expression almost knowing, or perhaps that was just my imagination.
What exactly had Nate said?
I eyed him, the sunglasses he’d arranged backwards on his head so they rested just behind his ears, the curls of his hair gathering around them, almost Romanesque.
“I hope only good things,” I replied tentatively, trying to play ball.
“Only the best,” he assured me, hands on his hips, charm effortless, sending a wink my way.
His presence was disarming and uncomfortable. I immediately resented it for being an obstacle to this newfound exploration I’d found with Nate. And the way that he treated me, too—so overly familiar.
My Aunt set out eggs and bacon for breakfast, and we busied ourselves around the kitchen, making ourselves plates. As I stood there, waiting for my turn, I felt Greg come up behind me, using one hand to reach for a glass in the cabinet, the other giving a light tap on my ass.
“Traffic jam,” he muttered softly in my ear, letting his touch linger, the gesture sending a current of electricity through my body, every fiber standing on end. I felt his body lumbering behind me, the heat of him uncomfortably close, before he pulled away to the spread before us, assembling his meal.
I glanced at him, trying to read his face for some note of recognition of what he’d just done, but instead I got nothing. It was as if it had never happened.
Merely my imagination.
“The place is looking great, Mr. M,” Greg told my Uncle as he piled a large helping of eggs onto his plate. “You’ve fixed it up real nice.”
My Uncle beamed back. “Nate’s been a big help this summer. All those odd jobs have paid off. He almost knows more than me now.”
We sat down at the table to eat, my plate staying largely untouched, an uneasiness in my stomach staving off any appetite.
“I’m gonna take Greg out to the cliffs,” Nate shared as we dug into the spread, “show him around.”
“You should take Kevin with you,” my Aunt suggested cheerfully. “I’m sure he’d be up for a hike.”
But before I could protest, everything about this guy making me ill at ease, my cousin cut me off. “We’re gonna go just the two of us,” he replied, glancing at Greg. “Got some real catching up to do.”
I swallowed, confused. Even though I’d have opted out, something about the way Nate took away the option felt like a rejection. I thought we’d made some headway yesterday, him and I. But in the light of a new day, it was as if nothing had ever happened between us, his affect once again distant, impossible to read, none of it betraying the intimacy we’d shared.
“I’m sure we’ll get plenty of quality time the next few days,” Greg assured me, placing a hand on my shoulder, smoothing out the awkward silence that underscored my disappointment, his touch both electrifying and annoying at the same time.
I felt the unfamiliar pangs of desire and resentment, the two of them intermingling so strongly I could hardly tell one from the other.
“It’s all right,” my Uncle interjected, “Kev and I have some plans anyway. We never got to go out to the lake.”
And with that, we finished up breakfast, throwing our dishes in the sink, and then all heading out our separate ways, taking on the day.
Jack and I piled into the cab of his pick-up, driving out to the lake nearby and unloading the kayaks onto the manmade sandy beach at its shore, climbing in and sending them out in the water.
We rowed silently, the surface of the water remarkably still, interrupted only by the smooth strokes of each paddle.
“Nate’s a tough nut to crack,” Uncle Jack said as we rode towards the middle of the lake, mountains climbing up beyond us, punctuating the view. “I can hardly get anything out of him myself.”
I nodded, unsure of what more to say.
“I imagine you boys have more in common than you think,” he told me.
My ears perked up at the sentiment. Did he know more than he was letting on? Could he read me as well as Nate could? And what did he see in Nate?
It felt nice to be off on our own, Jack’s warmth a balm despite all of Nate’s confusing behavior. He was a great dad, the kind that really, truly cared. Despite his hulking figure, he was a softie, the kind of guy that wasn’t afraid of real, genuine affection. I wondered how Nate had become so closed off with a father like that, a guy who was secure enough to show that he had feelings, that he wasn’t just a stonewall. I imagined telling him about what we’d done, being held in his arms, so safe and protected, letting me know it would be all right.
But that was all just a fantasy.
We returned to the house, me showering off the day, thinking about what my Uncle had said. Maybe Nate would come back around. But this new guy, Greg, even if uncomfortably friendly, had certainly thrown a bit of a wrench in things. I disliked him, both for the way he’d interrupted what seemed like a whole new direction for us, and the way his presence was so destabilizing. Nate was intimidating and hot in a way that was still familiar — I’d known him all my life. There was a shorthand, even if I was figuring out who this new version was. But Greg was somehow otherworldly, the kind of beauty that was hard to stomach. I was almost afraid to look at him, my body reacting so viscerally.
Between him and Nate, my desire seemed impossible to contain.
At dinner, Greg dominated the conversation, engaging us all in the kind of banter I was always terrible at. I was fascinated by guys like him, the way he seemed to move through the world with an enviable ease. He had the self-assuredness of a golden boy, a sense of familiarity with people following him everywhere, as if no one had ever told him no.
They probably hadn’t, I thought to myself.
He knew he was attractive. More than attractive—hot. He could use it however he needed. The combination of raw, masculine beauty and boyish charisma was a potent combination.
“This was a fantastic meal, Mr. M,” Greg complimented, his charm even seeming to work on my Uncle. “You know your way around a kitchen.”
“We’ll see how you boys fare on our night away,” he replied. “Nate’s picked up a few things from me nd his Mom.”
Greg smiled back at him. “Don’t you worry about us,” he replied. “We’ll be just fine.” And then he glanced at me, giving me a small wink. “And we’ll even take care of Little Guy here.”
I blushed, bristling at the diminutive. I was already self-conscious about my size, particularly in relation to him and Nate, but something inside me fired more potent than anger. As much as I hated being called small, there was something about the way he teased me that felt like a compliment, as if being noticed by him was enough.
Whether I liked it or not, his charms worked on me too.
I stood up to collect some of the plates, a ritual I’d undertaken every night since arriving, earning my keep for being a guest in their home. Stacking them, I carried them into the kitchen and started rinsing them under the kitchen sink, letting the water wipe them clean.
Before I knew it, Nate was behind me with another set, the remaining three still back at the dining room table, deep in conversation.
“Sorry we bailed on you today,” Nate told me quietly, reaching for the almost-clean plates that I had placed on the counter and putting them in the dishwasher.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I get it. He’s your best friend.”
“We just needed some time to hang,” he replied. And then he came in close, his mouth beside my ear, voice lowered to just above a whisper. “Come on up at midnight.”
For a second, I thought I’d imagined it, or misheard him, doing a double take and almost dropping a dish in the basin. But then I caught his eye, meeting me in affirmation, before realizing it was real.
He stared back at me, daring me to obey.
I nodded at him, the gesture enough to end the dialogue, before he noisily returned to loading the plates into the machine, carefully placing each one in before calling out to the rest of them in the dining room.
“So what’s for dessert?”
—
11.57 pm.
I lay in bed, my palms sweating, waiting for the clock to turn, the hour nearing ever closer.
Your cousin’s told me all about you.
The words echoed in my head.
The breeze through the open window did little to cool my body, the summer air thick. My body strained against the layers of sheets, restless.
And hard.
I’d spent the last two hours after bedtime fantasizing about what this might mean.
I figured what had happened between us would have to stay a secret, but Greg’s behavior said otherwise, making it seem like he knew more than he was letting on.
I wasn’t quite sure what I was getting myself into. Greg seemed pretty straight, his affect the very definition of a bro, but then Nate had too, hardly giving off any vibe that he was into guys at all.
I’d felt for so long like the only gay person in the world. But now that facade was slowly crashing down, as if I had been living a lie my entire life, a truth that had been just in front of my eyes finally coming into focus.
My desire, it seemed, wasn’t mine alone.
The clock turned.
12:00 am.
Showtime.
Nervously, I got up from bed, making my way quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake my Aunt and Uncle. When I got to the end of the doorway, I opened it slowly, turning the handle just so and letting it close silently behind me.
I clenched my fists in anticipation as I made my first steps up the stairs, still wondering if somehow I was making a mistake. I knew Nate had asked for this, but part of me couldn’t believe it was happening, a doubt remaining, as if I was being pranked. I imagined how it could turn, that I’d show up and they’d call me a faggot, shaming me for even thinking that they’d want me at all.
But as I turned the corner on the landing, the room came into view, a dim light bathing the space and the scene set before me — Greg and Nate, both of them sitting upright, one in each of the twin beds, their shirts off and cocks out, hands already jerking themselves slowly.
I had been waiting, tossing and turning in anticipation downstairs. But they had been waiting for me, too.
In fact, they’d already started.
I stood motionless, watching them as their eyes met mine.
“Hey, Kev,” Nate said, his words cutting through the thick air of the room.
I took in a long breath, bathing in the sight of them, how hot they looked. Nate’s lean chest, exposed and lightly covered in sweat, cock pointed directly back at him, the lean six pack just above. And Greg, in his own bed, his body that much bigger mass — arms and perfectly formed pecs framing his torso, his cock even bigger than Nate’s.
Suddenly, I felt overdressed. I swallowed deeply, overwhelmed with desire. All the doubts of the last three hours had dissipated.
This was really happening.
“You made it,” Greg said, grinning at me. “Looks like you’ve been saving up a nut all day too.”
I glanced down at my crotch, only just noticing how obvious it was that I was hard, my cock straining against the mesh of my gym shorts, no underwear to hold me back from raging outwards.
I smiled, slightly bashful, before realizing I had nothing to be ashamed of. They were already one step ahead.
“Why don’t you show us what you’re working with?” Greg muttered, baiting me.
I was embarrassed, the overwhelm of their more developed forms making me self-conscious. My body was slight, not as impressive as theirs, my cock certainly not as large.
Nate sensed my hesitation.
“It’s cool, Kev,” he said, quietly, his voice softer than I ever recalled it being. “It’s just us guys.”
His encouragement set me temporarily at ease. It was enough for me.
Wordlessly, I slid off my t-shirt, lifting it over my head to reveal my lean torso, a pair of taut arms, and a small, tight chest. I stood there, sheepish, hesitant. And then, gathering courage, I reached for my waistband, pulling down my shorts and letting my cock free, its weight extending straight out towards them.
I felt a flash of vulnerability at being fully exposed, and then, immediately afterwards, a sense of freedom. Ease.
We were all on equal footing now. Just three guys, hanging naked together, cocks at full salute.
“Looking good, dude,” Greg said, eyes admiring my body. “Your cousin said you had a nice little cock.”
A nice little cock.
I blanched at the way he said it, so confidently, as if he’d done this so many times before.
That familiar mix of desire and resentment boiled up in my body—of being called small, itself a sort of slight—but also the way he seemed to admire me, that somehow those two things didn’t have to negate one another, but instead all a part of a package, my package, that my dick was just as nice as his was..
“Thanks,” I replied, shy, blushing a bit. “Not as big as yours.”
Nate smiled, looking over at Greg admiringly. “Nobody’s dick is as big as Greg’s.”
He was right. It was the biggest dick I’d seen in real life, certainly hard. Big like some of the guys in pictures I’d found online, men that were so much older than I was, their bodies and dicks defining what it was to be a man. I’d liked their way their cocks looked — full, hard, engorged — having a difficult time believing I’d ever see one or feel one in real life. That they’d only exist in fantasy.
Until yesterday. Until now.
“Come on, Kev,” Greg encouraged, gesturing for me to come closer. “Join us.”
I was shocked at his boldness.
“Yeah?” I asked, nervous, still lingering by the top of the stairs.
“Yeah, dude,” Greg replied. “It’s why we invited you up.”
I felt their eyes on me as I neared closer, making my way between them until I found myself standing between the two beds, each boy and each cock just within spitting distance.
I looked back and forth at them, unsure of where to go.
Until Greg patted a spot next to his legs, offering a “right here, bud,” indicating for me to sit.
I looked at Nate, his forehead giving an approving nod, and then did as I was told, resting my bare ass on the edge of the bed, my dick tight between my legs, my thighs brushing up against Greg’s just so.
I looked down at his cock, its sheer girth even more impressive up close.
“You wanna feel it?” he asked, eyes shooting down at the swollen piece he held in his hand.
I looked down at it and then back to meet his stare. “Yeah,” I replied softly.
I did. I wanted nothing more.
“Then be my guest,” Greg teased, removing his hand.
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