Neighborhood Distraction

I awoke to a tangle of limbs and the strong smell of musk and stale cum; we’d all four slept in Kent’s and my king-sized bed after a few more rounds of draining our balls together last night. Somehow that bed feels vast when Kent and I are spooning in some small area of it; but with four men it suddenly got much more crowded. Enjoyably so. 

It was Kent whom I was spooning in my arms; Kent in turn was holding Quint tight in his big muscled arms. I couldn’t see Quint’s face but I made a good bet in my head that his face was serene in that embrace. 

Jef was the one missing; while my senses were taking inventory my nose picked-up the smell of coffee and the beginnings of pancakes, maybe waffles, from beyond our bedroom. The final piece of the inventory was Sasha who wasn’t anywhere to be seen; of course he was near the food source. If the trade was my dog for two hot men in my bed I was clearly coming out ahead in this equation. 

The juxtaposition of man musk and breakfast was competing for my attentions; my stomach was growling but my dick was getting stiff. The feel of Kent against me all hard muscles and radiating heat was always enjoyable and compelling. I kissed the back of Kent’s neck and breathed in his familiar smell with the unfamiliar smell of the well-used young ex-marine laying in Kent’s embrace. Kent pushed his bubble butt back into my morning hardon and snuggled back into me head-to-toe. At the same time as my husband moaned in his sleep while he was pressing against me tighter he was pulling Quint tighter and getting a similar moan of contentment from Quint. It was only a moment before their moans returned to deep even breaths.

My stomach growled and made my decision for me. I gently disengaged from Kent; that elicited a more plaintiff moan but only momentary. I got myself out of the bed as gently as I could to avoid disturbing the two sleeping beauties. 

There was no point in looking for boxer briefs to put on; we’d all hung out stark nekkid last night between rounds. The memories of our energetic exploits the night before did nothing to abate my hard-on while I took my morning piss.
Kent and I have some great friends who frequently verbalize the uniquely male pleasure of men together naked and completely leveled together. The scents. The sights. The way muscles move. The way parts dangle. The way the sac contracts or distends. The penis thickening and extending or swinging freely. The head emerging from the foreskin. The armpit, the hair, the imagination of the sweat. The globes of ass-flesh, the hairy clefts, the musky puckers. The easy conversation. The parity of two or more men together naked.

I’m very self-conscious about my neck to groin thoracic scar (times three) that calls the wrong attention to my torso. Times three because before I was out of the woods two years ago I’d had three open-heart surgeries. An unrefined racing stripe of scar tissue bisected an otherwise impressive torso for a middle-aged man. But Kent had convinced me to get the fuck over it; and the two hunks we’d fucked six ways from Sunday the evening before weren’t fazed by it in the slightest. Nor were the two college hunks we’d fucked recently. Nor were …

Slipping out of our bedroom and letting my dick and sac swing and my scar show was no real big deal; I wasn’t strutting through the house, well not exactly. I am proud of the work I did to regain muscle; the gains and exceeding where I started from before the accident. Kent urged me to eat more, to fuel and even bulk a bit while I worked back my cardio and pumped-up; it paid-off. And I’ve never been one of those guys who is at all bashful about showing his junk; the US Army knocked any modesty out of us. 

I’d been walking quietly and made the doorway from the front hall to the kitchen and stopped before I turned and entered. The eggs and bacon crackled and sizzled, the appetizing waft of the feast was rich, and there was a beautifully constructed naked man attending to it all with Sasha sitting patiently at his feet watching Jef’s every move. Neither noticed me watching them. 

Jef from behind is an inspiring sight. The v of his broad shoulders to his waist is complemented by a bubble butt that would be the envy of any man half his age.  I knew the wonders of that trench and his puckered man-cunt and my dick responded to the recall of them. The muscle he’d put on wasn’t only in his broad back and triceps I enjoyed watching move as he tended to the meal; no his very muscular legs from his running were now thicker and more strikingly contoured for the effort he’d made and his defined quads and ham-strings served to accentuate that amazing butt. 

“Morning,” I said quietly in an attempt not to startle the hunky cook. 

Jef turned and his face was first furrowed with concentration then brightened to brilliant smile. Sasha turned, ran to me for a quick nuzzle, then he raced back to heel by the cook. Sasha quickly turned to give me a last look before returning focus solely on the food prep; the look clearly conveyed, “You understand.” I did. 

“Kiss the cook?” Jef asked with a grin. 

The heart emoji returned to my thoughts in a flash. When I hesitated Jef persisted. “I had a dream last night about you and Kent kissing me. I woke up reaming Quint while you two slept which was a great consolation.” 

He put his utensils down and turned and walked toward me which confused Sasha. I stood unable to move as he neared and stopped with his warm smooth chest against my furry pecs and my hard-on poking his groin. He wrapped his arms around me gently but firmly pulled me tight and then pressed his lips against mine and prodded my lips open with his tongue. 

The kiss was long and deep and nothing less than inspired; it was also uncomfortable because my response to the energy and need Jef put into it was purely mechanical like the throbbing of my dick, a reflex. When he finally backed-off he smiled a bit regretfully. 

“I’ve missed you guys a lot Al.” It was said with a bit of shyness. 

An awkward long minute of silent eye contact followed. There was more to it. I knew there was. 

Sasha saved me by giving a small guttural grunt which always means to pay attention to something so he doesn’t have to raise it to a bark. Jef turned and gave my dog a look. “You’re awfully mindful of your master’s breakfast there Sosh.”

From my vantage point I could tell that Sasha didn’t appreciate the shortening of his name but he also had some hand-outs at stake and wasn’t risking any petulance which would diminish his chances. If dogs could roll their eyes Sasha would be expert at it.

Jef gave my waist a squeeze and then unhanded me and turned back to the many burners and pans and picked-up where he’d left off with his work. Unfortunately he picked-up his narrative too; he’d robbed me of the momentary relief. 

“I came here with a proposition for you and Kent.” Uh oh, here it comes. “I also have a proposition for my folks and the two mesh well.” For him, I thought. “Coffee?” He offered, turning with a smile. “I had to dig for caffeinated as you obviously are a decaf house like mine; so there’s hot water in the kettle and the French press is at the ready there if Quint needs the accelerant; the pot is your decaf. Is Kent in there railing that hot devil dog as we speak?”

I’d been listening with a combination of wary expectation to hear the proposition and surreality of the segue into logistics; and wasn’t ready for a question. 

“Um,” I stammered for a beat, “They were both still sleeping when I came out here.” And what the fuck is this proposition I wanted to ask but hadn’t.  

Jef took a sip of his own coffee between his ministrations and then deftly flipped a large pancake in each of two pans. They looked restaurant-perfect and made my mouth water. 

I scanned the island and saw that Jef had syrup, butter, and fake butter out along with places set. I went to the fridge and took a bottle of water then took a place on the left stool at the island. From there I had the easiest view out through our “open floor plan” to see Kent or Quint approaching. 

“So about this proposition?” I took the bull by the horn. My own ‘horn’ was nearly limp; the aesthetics of this hunk was over-shadowed by the cloud in the anticipation of my mind threatening rain.

“Give me a minute to plate this and I’ll tell you all about my plan.”

A minute turned into five. I sipped my water and contemplated the familiar feeling of dread that I’d gotten when one of my kids had over-thought something and was about to be disappointed. By me. 

Jef deftly passed two plates brimming with more food than I usually ate in the morning and put the remainder in the warming oven. He took the farthest stool from me and then pulled it around the corner to semi-face me. He pulled his place setting around in front of him, positioned his coffee, took a lusty bite of his eggs, and set to preparing his big pancake. 

I hadn’t touched mine yet waiting for the bomb to come. But watching him jump-started me. 

I’m not a fan of runny eggs; so the over-easy eggs were a pass. I’m still of the old school anyway when eggs were bad for you after they’d been a staple and before they were good for you again now. But the turkey bacon he’d included was cooked to perfection as was the pancake from the look and smell of it. 

Just as I took my first heavenly bite Jef launched into it. 

“My parents need help. I thought there was more time on the approach when i was here last time than there really was apparently. My mom’s ninety-two and my dad’s eighty-nine.”

I had no clue his parents were that old. Old yes but not that old. She was over fifty when he was born! 

“ … It’s just that simple,” he was continuing and I struggled to pull what I’d heard but not processed from my mental buffer. Oh right; his dad’s short-term memory was shot and in the past year his mom’s ability to compensate had waned. “My privileges contract at Chippenham is up for renewal at the end of the year and my practice partnership is changing as we expand. It’s the perfect time for me to cash-out and move. Mayo has a group that’s down a surgeon who’s leaving to go to Scottsdale, so … “

I watched him gobble his breakfast with as much gusto as any starving man and keep up the narrative without spitting his food or gurgling his words. I wondered if his job as a cardiac surgeon at a trauma hospital demanded his time to where he was always multi-tasking. 

“And I know we could be a great thrupple.”

I did a burlesque-style spit-shot with my bottle of water. “You … we … WHAT?” I blurted-out loud enough to startle Sasha to attention from where he’d lay half-way between us.

Jef smiled indulgently. “I know. I’m a planner. It’s the Capricorn in me. I’m always … “

I tuned-out of the current and replayed what I’d missed. If Jef was working here in town (and Mayo’s complex is a mere couple of miles from us oddly nestled in this very suburban bedroom community) and living with us … 

“ … And I know we are so good together both hormones-raging and not. And you now know I’m a great cook and love doing it … “

I swiveled my stool to face him more directly. “No, Jef,” I said simply and slowly. 

He’d stopped abruptly. “No? Just no?”

“No thank you.” I offered. 

He looked stunned. Like my oldest used to when he came up with some mental short-circuit that seemed great to only him but was obviously ludicrous. Then he was crushed. Then angry. Then defiant and acting-out. Then dead. I ruefully ended my reverie and forced my attention to return to Jef’s revived pitch. 

“And you have to agree we really smoke the sheets … “

“Jef it’s called sex. Men have sex. It doesn’t mean any more or any less. Men have bromances. We hope we can call you a friend. Again it doesn’t mean any more or but it doesn’t mean any less. I can’t believe you’ve worked this all up in your head from a few wild screw-sessions we had when you were here last year.” I stopped short of saying I hoped he was more level-headed in treating his patients; I was a bit put-out by the sudden reveal of his grand plan to invade the perfect life Kent and I had made for each other. 

Both of our attentions and Sasha’s were suddenly taken by the slightly muffled but still loud, “Oh fuck yeah daddy! You’re so fucking big daddy. Use your boy daddy; use me to get your nut!” that resounded from our bedroom.

I got off my stool and went to Jef who was looking into his food with a rare unhappy dejection despite an obvious war toy husband fucking our other guest. I put my arms around his shoulders and kissed him on the temple. “What say we go join in what we’re all good at. In our case we WILL always have that and as much more as we want. If you can settle for that Jef.”

“Yeah take it you little bitch-boy. You’re just a hole to please my big cock. Take it!”

Jef and I looked at each other and then at the same time looked at each other’s growing dicks. We laughed and he got up. 

“Fuck me daddy. Dump your seed in me.  Fuck me ‘til I’m pregnant with my own brother!” 

Jef looked a bit stunned by the odd turn of the fuck-talk reverberating through the house. “Uh okay then! And you’re right on both things Al. Thing one: the future’s so bright I gotta wear shades. Thing two: we’re damn good at THAT!”

I pushed our plates to the center of the island and then gave Sasha a full slice of turkey bacon as consolation before I took Jef by his ballsac and led him to the bedroom to join the party.