Summer Fling

My parents weren't crazy about me spending so much time at Mr. Kincaid's house. The 49-year-old junior college baseball coach lived at the other end of our subdivision and while he got along with everyone, he gave off this loner vibe that made people like my parents leery.

But I was an adult now, spending the summer at home, and working full time to boot. I'd drifted apart from a lot of my high school friends, maybe a mix of coming out and the normal drifting apart in college, and a couple of my buddies were staying on their respective campus for the summer. The hardest thing was not having guys to chill with after a late shift at the Greek deli, where I had night and weekend shifts.

Scratch that, the toughest thing was not having sex. I was going to school in Chicago, and while I didn't go crazy, I'd lost my virginity and found out how fun it was to meet guys on Grindr. I tried going on dates, and they were kind of fun, but it was a lot harder to find a romantic connection than a hookup, I discovered.

Yeah, I checked Grindr when I was home, but it was slim pickings. I got DMed by a couple of creeps, blocked them, and didn't log on again.

Maybe that's why I was primed for Greg Kincaid's charms. He came into the deli at least once a week, and each time made small talk while he waited for his order. He had a gruff, masculine demeanor... weathered face, beard, piercing eyes. But he also had a great smile when he was in a good mood.

He knew who I was. From the neighborhood, though I think the "quarterback comes out" news made me famous around town. It didn't seem to phase the man though. I soon learned why. One evening, on a particularly quiet night, we were talking and Greg said as off hand. "You know I admire your guts coming out, Alex," he said quietly. "I wish I'd had the balls at your age."

For a young guy who'd been lecturing people that they shouldn't make assumptions about a person's sexuality, this caught me off guard. But it made sense. Why Kincaid was coming into the deli so often, in off-hours no less, and chatting me up. I have no natural instinct when it comes to flirting. At least I didn't think I did, but that evening I went with it.

"You don't have to butter me up, Mr. Kincaid," I said with a smirk. "You're already my favorite customer."

That got a laugh of the butch man, thankfully. "It's Greg," he corrected me, then with a wink added. "Or Coach if you like."

"Got it Coach," I replied.

Just then I heard the bell ding with the man's order. I resented the fact our conversation would be coming to an end.

But as the man grabbed the to-go bag, he paused and looked at me for a sign whether he should go further. Maybe I gave it to him, I don't know. All I know were his next words. "You feel like coming over sometime to watch a baseball game?" I got the feeling the man lived, breathed, and slept baseball, and that was OK with me.

"Sounds good," I said. "I'm off Mondays and Tuesdays."

Just then a customer was entering. Damnit. But Greg smiled and nodded. "Monday it is. I'm an impatient, man."

I laughed. "All right. Later, Coach."

***

The first couple of times with Greg were awkward sex. I was inexperienced and we were finding our groove. But there was clear attraction there. Mr. Kincaid living out the jock fantasies of his youth, me indulging my attraction to an older man.

Greg coached me in bed. But when I first rimmed him, I didn't need coaching. I had eaten ass a couple of times and loved it. And Coach had a round full daddy ass that inspired me to go to town. So I did. Gripping those ass cheeks and munching away.

"Holy hell, Alex..." he hissed when I finally pulled up for air. "Who taught you to rim like that?"

I shrugged with a chuckle. "No one, Coach. I just love it that's all."

The hunky man pulled me up to kiss him. I was athletic and I'd spent a lot of time in the gym working on my physique, but I loved how Greg had older, more mature muscle... furry to my still mostly smooth. My dick was rock hard as it bumped against his thick hard on.

"Wanna fuck me, big guy?" he grinned. Maybe a little nervous.

"You offering, Coach?" I asked, so turned on. "Cause I wanna, yeah."

He nodded. "You're big and it's been a while. So go slow." He reached over for some lube. It was our fourth time together and our first time doing anal. I probably would have put out for Coach if he'd asked, even though I'd not really enjoyed bottoming the couple of times I'd done it. The fact he was giving up his hole thrilled me.

I fingered him and we made out some more. I pushed more fingers in him, feeling him gradually relax. "I'm on PREP," I hissed as I looked down on the hunky man, his hairy body below me, his legs pulled back in a position of pure masculine vulnerability.

He knew what I was after. "Me too," he said, surprising me. "I want you in me bare, stud."

That was as official an invitation as I needed. I lined up and pressed into Coach Kincaid's tight hole. It was exquisite. Just the right amount of grip, just the right amount of give. I took my time, but pretty soon I was buried deep inside. We kissed, acknowledging our deep connection. Then I fucked the big hunky man. I actually managed to pound two loads of Greg before I couldn't hold off any longer. His second O was the trigger that had me shooting a heavy load deep inside him. I felt like a total stud, but maybe that was the 20-year old inexperience speaking.

We cuddled and talked. Then I decided I really needed to get home. My parents didn't have a curfew for me or anything, but it wouldn't be cool to spend the entire night out.

The man looked like a million bucks as he slipped on some baseball shorts, his middle aged body hard and muscular. "You off tomorrow, Alex?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, Coach," I said. "You inviting me over?" We still had this fun flirty vibe between us.

"What do you think, smart ass?" he smirked.

"I think I'm gonna tap that hot ass again tomorrow night," I boasted. "Twice."

Greg looked me over, his eyes showing some amusement and a good deal of sexual attraction. "Goddamn, I'm glad I made the moves on you, A."

We kissed again at the door, softly. Then I left.

***

Dad knocked on my bedroom door. He had a sheepish look on your face. "You been spending a lot of time at Mr. Kincaid's," he said.

"Yeah," I said, acting nonchalant. "I don't have a lot of buddies in town to watch the games with. He's a cool guy."

My father looked at me. He knew it was more than baseball. "Well, guys that age sometimes take advantage of guys your age."

"Jesus, Dad," I whined. "He'd cool. No one's taking advantage of anyone."

He nodded, contrite a little. Eyes full of paternal concern. "OK, you're an adult now. Your mother and I still worry about you though. It's what parents do."

"God it, Dad," I said. "Thanks."

***

That conversation weighed on me. What the fuck was I doing with Coach? I guess we were fuck buddies, but Jesus sometimes it felt like more than that. I tried to talk about it with Greg, but that's when I realized his loner thing carried into his personal relationship.

"Can't we just have fun, Alex?" he snapped. And that was the end of that conversation. I actually worried I'd fucked up a good thing. There was no afterglow chat, no goodbye kiss at the door, no flirty banter.

But the man strutted into the deli the next night when I was working, a knowing grin on his face.

"Hey Coach," I greeted.

"Hiya Alex," he said. "I'll have the usual."

We made chit-chat, then Greg lowered his voice and leaned in on the counter. "Think you can swing an overnight?"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I'd ask for two, but I'm greedy," he said.

I didn't know where this was coming from, but sleeping over at Coach Kincaid's sounded like heaven. "I'll see what I can do, Coach," I replied.

I thought of lying to my parents but figured why? I figured Dad was the softer touch. "I have a date tonight, Dad," I said the next day. "It might be an overnight, actually."

Dad blushed. He had been cool with the gay thing, but I guess it was seeming more real now. "OK.... well, just be safe, OK, buddy?"

I patted him. "Yeah, I will. Thanks..."

***

I didn't know what to expect when I showed up at Greg's with just an overnight bag. But I was surprised how easygoing the whole weekend was. Fucking, quiet time, meals, just relaxing. To this day, it's been what I want a date with a man to be.

But the best part was the next morning. We'd had morning sex, then showered and hit the gym. We were back in his kitchen, having a protein shake and just chatting about fitness stuff.

Then out of the blue, Greg kind of looked me over, like a hungry wolf, and said, "You know I didn't expect you to be such an ass man, Alex."

I felt that flirty vibe come back. "What can I say? You have a great ass, Coach."

He turned half around and lowered his shorts. He still wore a strap from the gym and it framed his meaty buns perfectly. It turns out Kincaid has a naturally smooth ass, but he also shaves it too. I loved the contrast between it and his overall hairiness.

"Fuck!" I growled, reaching down to cup my dick. It was gonna get hard, quick.

"I'm probably a little sweaty," he warned. "But I'd love one of your patented rim jobs."

I walked around the kitchen island, feeling myself bone up with each step. I crouched down and gripped those cakes, lewdly shaking them until the man flexed his glutes. Then I dove in.

This wasn't the time for talking. Or processing what Coach and I had going on. This was the time for eating ass. That said, as I licked around his magnificently puckered hole, I decided then and there I was gonna ask Greg to be my boyfriend and do everything in my power to convince him to say yes.