Breaking Bread with Boone
Jonathan zipped up his suitcase in their San Francisco apartment as he eyed his husband, Chet, packing his own bag with obsessive efficiency. Chet’s tan biceps flexed noticeably in his tank top, and the outline of his hefty, soft tool was visible even with the loose gym shorts he wore. Normally his shorts would be a bit tighter and even more revealing, but most of those were already packed. They’d been married for a year now, and Jonathan still was amazed that a nerdy lawyer like him had managed to bag this gorgeous personal trainer.
“Did you really mean it, what you said last night?” Jonathan asked in the elevator down to the lobby with their luggage in tow. Chet had changed into gray joggers, and even though he was wearing a pair of briefs, his bulge looked practically obscene. Jonathan’s green eyes locked onto his husband’s reflection of the shiny elevator door. At 5’6” Jonathan felt dwarfed by Chet’s towering 6’2” frame, Jonathan truly hoped his husband hadn’t changed his mind.
“Hell yeah,” Chet chuckled, his Southern accent as thick as the day Jonathan met him three years ago. The elevator opened to an empty lobby where the married pair waited for their Uber to the airport. They were headed to North Carolina for a long weekend to attend Chet’s family reunion. “I’d love to see you get fucked by another man, seein’ your perky ass take a thick cock while I stroke my own. Even better if his dick is bigger than mine.”
Jonathan’s cheeks burned at his husband’s words, which he punctuated with a crotch grab, from both the excitement of the idea and the fact they were sort of in public. Luckily, given the early flight, they were all alone. That also meant Jonathan didn’t mind too much that his cock started to stiffen in his jeans at the image Chet had painted: Chet’s possessive eyes on him while a stranger pounded his hole raw. Chet gripped Jonathan’s waist, pulling in for a rough kiss, their semi-erect cocks mashing together until a set of headlights pulling up distracted them enough to break apart.
The travel for the rest of the day was uneventful though countless times Jonathan wanted to mess around in one of the airport restrooms – risky public play was something the shy lawyer also wanted to explore, but Chet made sure they both stayed respectable. Even with two hours to go in the rental car, Chet still wouldn’t let Jonathan give him road head. Chet had always been the more adventurous one, hence bringing up the cuckolding fantasy, but now it felt like he was purposefully teasing Jonathan. We finally pulled up to a sprawling old farmhouse, owned by Chet’s grandmother.
The driveway gravel crunched under our sneakers and the smell of barbecue smoke mixed with fresh-cut grass. Chet’s family reunion was in full swing, evident by the long line of mostly pick-up trucks and the occasional ATV. Chet was the only one who’d moved out of North Carolina ever, or even the county for that matter. Jonathan let Chet take the lead as the rounded the house to find half a dozen picnic tables loaded with food and relatives. Jonathan had only ever met Chet’s parents for their city hall marriage, but seeing this huge family was intimidating to the newcomer.
Jonathan knew Chet had a large extended family, but what truly surprised him was the sea of tanned, broad-shouldered Southerners, each one more handsome than the next. Chet reached to grab Jonathan’s hand, giving his husband a tight, reassuring squeeze and passing along a bit of confidence. He leaned down for a polite peck on the cheek, flashing that grin that had helped him win Jonathan over.
“Welcome to the madhouse, babe,” Chet drawled, his accent even thicker now that he was back home.
Jonathan’s anticipation of rural North Carolina had him braced for awkward stares. Instead, the pair were greeted by countless handshakes, sweaty bear hugs, and heavy pats on the back. All the up close and personal contact occasionally offered fleeting brushes with denim-clad crotches that sent jolts of excitement straight to my groin. As much as possible, Chet kept his fingers intertwined with Jonathan’s as if to remind everyone Jonathan belonged to him. Every time a cousin or uncle pulled Jonathan in for a hug, Chet’s grip tightened. Jonathan never knew Chet to be a jealous type but perhaps there were some old animosities lingering underneath the friendliness.
At one point, a man, probably mid-40s, approached them who could’ve been Chet’s older brother, but Jonathan knew he was the youngest sibling to three sisters. The older man sauntered over in his tight wranglers and a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off that strained over a powerful, hairy chest. Where Chet had become more clean-cut since moving west, this beast screamed Southern masculinity. If he weren’t a relative, Jonathan would’ve been hoping this was the type of guy Chet wanted to ravage him.
The lookalike pair of alphas stood face-to-face, blues eyes sparkling at each other, and the hunky male relative looked down at Jonathan’s husband with a serious expression. They commenced a staring contest, neither blinking. It was during this moment of silence that Jonathan realized this guy stood a good three or four inches taller than his husband with Chet’s close-cropped dirty blonde hair about the same level as blonde’s nose. Chet’s smooth jaw clenched with determination, but he finally tilted his chin upwards to better meet the steely gaze looking down at him. The older man’s lips twitched, his stubbled cheeks dimpling, and the entire facade shattered as they both started cackling.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” the man rumbled before turning his attention to Jonathan, his eyes running up and down his slim frame. “And he brought a friend.”
“He’s not my friend. This handsome, successful, intelligent man is my husband, Jonathan,” Chet beamed, the pride in voice making Jonathan melt on the spot. “And this giant oaf is my cousin, Boone.”
“You mean ‘my favorite’ cousin,” Boone corrected him with a cheeky grin before hugging Chet with a spine-crushing embrace and a brotherly kiss on the cheek.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Jonathan stuttered, holding out my hand.
Boone took Jonathan’s slight hand in his large, calloused paw, taking considerable care to be gentle. Boone then pulled him in for a welcoming embrace with one arm wrapping around the shorter man’s shoulders while the other trailed down to his lower back eliciting a low growl from Chet that only Jonathan could hear. Up close, Boone smelled like sawdust and sweat, his burly chest heaving against Jonathan. When he finally released Jonathan, Chet hauled his husband to his side with a hand on Jonathan’s waist.
“Well, shit, nice to meet you, too, brotha. I’d heard from Aunt Ginny there was a California boy who’s got my cousin smilin’ like a fool,” Boone continued with the friendly banter, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple.
“Yup, that’s me,” Jonathan managed, his voice steady despite feeling slightly in awe of the friendly Southern hulk.
“Boone here is the best carpenter in the county,” Chet added, his free hand clapping Boone’s shoulder. “But my man here just became the youngest partner in his firm’s history.”
“Ah, so he’s smart, too,” Boone smiled, teeth flashing, though what he was adding to Jonathan was unsure.
As the cousins dove into their easy banter, Jonathan’s mind raced with possibility. Chet had essentially given Jonathan permissions to open up their marriage, and all he could do now was picture Boone’s massive frame grinding against him. If he was taller and bigger than Chet, did that apply to his equipment too? Fuck, what would that thick Southern cock feel like slamming into his ass? Boone looked every bit the straight hick, chatting about his recent female conquests with easy charm, but Jonathan couldn’t shake the hunger that was steadily growing much like his dick. He crossed his legs in an effort to hide his semi as he imagined Boone bending him over a picnic table, right out in the open.
“Babe, did you hear him?” Chet nudged, snapping Jonathan back to reality.
“What?”
“Can I get you a beer or something?” Boone repeated his offer, a smile creeping across his face again.
“Oh, sure, or wine, if you have it,” he mumbled, swallowing hard as his mind flashed to those rough hands yanking his pants down, exposing his ass for a brutal fingering.
Boone winked and then delivered our requested drinks, leaving us time to eat and mingle. As the afternoon wore on, Jonathan stuck close, nursing a beer while Chet made the rounds with his aunts and uncles. Jonathan did his best to exchange pleasantries, but his eyes kept drifting to Boone when he was hauling ice to refill the coolers or wrestling with the kids, his arms flexing and face holding an ever-present smile. Chet hadn't put any limitations on who could fuck him, but he figured his cousin was off-limits.
Still, that didn’t stop Jonathan from hatching a seduction plot: accidentally brushing against him with a hand to his chest, complimenting his strong arms, and whispering to Boone how Chet loves sharing. Chet had offered to open the marriage, why not test the waters here with someone he already knew. Jonathan’s mind fabricated sexual tension between himself and Chet’s husband. Boone had such a powerful charm, that kind that made Jonathan want to drop to his knees and find out what kind of monster he was hiding under those tight jeans. Jonathan shifted from his perch on the porch steps, his ass cheeks rubbing together and slick with sweat.
As the sun started setting, lanterns were lit, and the tables under string lights were restocked for dinner. Chet found two empty spaces for himself and his husband, coincidentally sitting Jonathan across from his cousin Boone while he found a spot a few places down. Boone flashed that smile he gave everyone as they settled down, Jonathan’s knees bumping Boone’s under the wood. Jonathan weakly smiled back, still reeling from the afternoon of fantasies that played out in his mind, leaving the inside of his underwear stained with pre-cum.
“Pass the slaw?” Boone asked, his foot nudging Jonathan’s calf. Jonathan assumed someone that tall was probably crammed under a table like this. Or was it a more deliberate action? The pressure lingered Jonathan’s blood rushed hoping that boot might travel up his thigh, right under Chet’s nose.
Jonathan shook his head slightly and obliged the request, his fingers brushing against Boone’s as he passed the dish. The older man thanked Jonathan with his eyes as he helped himself before tearing into a rib, barbecue sauce smearing his lips. He laughed at some joke, booming over the din, but his eyes kept coming back to Jonathan. Jonathan should have assumed he was just being friendly but again his mind raced with intrigue – Boone's massive body pinning him to the grass, yanking his jeans down before shoving inside him, pounding relentlessly while his husband looked, stroking himself until he came all over Jonathan’s back before his cousin bred him. Chet was going to have to take care of Jonathan later that night.
“You look a little flushed, city boy. Heat gettin’ to ya?” Boone leaned in, elbows on the table and close enough Jonathan could feel his warm breath. The tease dissipated with Boone’s look turning into a smolder. His eyes dropped to Jonathan’s mouth, then lower, like he knew exactly why Jonathan was clenching his ass. Chet, someone, anyone, needed to take care of this aching hole.
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