Jason's First Workout Ð Chapter XII Ð "Jason and the Mountain Man"
Dear Readers:
Thanks for all of the emails and the encouragement to keep this story going. Dozens of you have asked for my inspiration pics of the characters, and I'm happy to keep sharing. Just email and ask. Please keep reading, and if you enjoy this story and the site, remember to give what you can back to Nifty so that we can all continue to get off here!
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(New chapters (5 and up) updated to present day: Luke age 56, Brock 48, Jason 34, Butch 32, Joe 40, Chase 28, Sam 26).
Jason:
I'd already had a sunrise run halfway up the mountain and over to the western Falls Trail and had drunk a protein shake when I saw the green Park Service pickup pull up to the cabin. I went out on the front porch to see if I could offer any help to my new house guest.
"Mornin' Bud," I said. "Need some help?"
"Hey Stud," Joe said in that rich baritone. "I think I can get it in a few trips." He reached into the seat and pulled out a large duffle bag and then grabbed a box with what looked like a blender. "I can't tell you again how much I appreciate this. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience for you," he said walking up on the porch balancing his belongings as if they weighed nothing.
"It's fine," I said again. "I'm happy for the company. Is that it?"
"No, I've got a couple of coolers in the back and another box on the front seat and my laptop bags and some other stuff," He said. Coolers? I thought to myself. I reached the bag of the truck and eyed two large Yeti's in the bed. I reached around to grab one over the side wall and had to heave to lift it with the ice it. It weighed a ton1 By this time, Joe had deposited his first load inside (somewhere?) and was beside me.
"Here, let me grab that. That's the heavy one," He said, grabbing it from my hands. I went around, lifted the lighter one (though not by much) from the other side and headed up the stairs behind him.
"Do you really drink this much beer," I teased, watching the way his ass stretched the cargo shorts he was wearing Ð clearly, they were a bit loose in the waist but tight in the hips and he'd cinched them with a khaki web belt around his thin waist. Damn Jason, focus. We set the coolers side by side on the kitchen floor.
"Funny," he said to me as if it wasn't funny at all. What the fuck, I thought? Have I already pissed him off? "Actually," he went on, "this one has about six pounds of frozen chicken breasts and the same amount of salmon Ð I wasn't sure how much protein you had on hand or if you had room in your freezer. Thus, the ice chests."
"Of course," I sighed, trying to hide my astonishment. I mean, I'd bought groceries but I hadn't stocked up for the fucking apocalypse. He must have read my look of consternation because he went on.
"This lighter cooler has the prepared meals I'd already made for the week. Well, through Saturday, in the containers. So, hopefully they'll fit in your fridge. I mean, it's an older model but it's full size right? Since Gran and I wouldn't be home, I didn't want it to go to waste. I eat two of those per day, lunch and dinner. That large box on the kitchen table has all of my protein shake supplies and supplements, plus my blender. It's a Bullet. Not sure if you had one since you hadn't lived here in a while. I just wanted to be prepared." He said sheepishly.
"Ah, yeah," I hesitated, sounding just as astounded as I'm sure I looked. "It's just. Damn, Joe. That's a lot of food for four days!"
"Man, haven't you been on a supplement and muscle building routine before? You're pretty thick, too. I eat those two meals plus have a protein shake for breakfast, a pre-workout drink, then there's a shake for after workout. Luckily, I don't think the press knows where my gym is, but I'll figure out that part. Maybe with the mask on they won't recognize me." He was rambling now.
"Hey," I said, trying to comprehend all that he'd just said. "Let's just take a breather. It's okay, Man. I'm just Ð well, I hadn't really thought about how much a guy your size would have to eat to, um, maintain that size."
He laughed. "I guess you were too busy focusing on only one muscle to remember my others!"
I looked at him. Was I that fucking transparent? Holy Shit, he was built! A mountain of a man and now with that trimmed beard and haircut, he was a porn star standing in my cabin. How the fuck was I going to concentrate on work for the next 3-4 days? I cleared my throat.
"Um, here. Let's just start unpacking some of this food and get it into the freezer and the fridge. Luckily, I just cleaned out the freezer last week of all the old crap and it only has a few things in there. All of that, um, meat should be okay in there," I said, almost choking on the word meat. What the fuck, Jason? Get it together.
We each opened a cooler and bent to the task. The fridge food in containers was amazingly organized, labeled and dated. Was he a super-neat-freak? I stacked this in the sparsely filled refrigerator shelves as he stood above me, stacking frozen packets of chicken breast and salmon fillets. By the time both coolers were unpacked and the other grocery items put away (I found him an entire empty cabinet for his shake supplies and supplements), we had gotten back to our easy repartee from last week and our conversation was less stilted and there was less electricity crackling through the room. We sat on the back deck where we'd stacked the two coolers still filled with ice in case we needed it later. He drank a diet tea (something he'd brought as well) while I finished my second, 30 oz tumbler of ice water.
"So, tell me about this media stuff. Who leaked your video?" I asked, genuinely interested.
"I did," he answered, nonplussed.
"What?" I was shocked.
"Well, technically, my agent or someone from NSF did, but it was from my data. I sent them a copy last Friday and they timed the release. An amateur summary of my report is going to be published in Nature's online and print versions next month," he went on.
"Wait. You leaked your own research? And what's an amateur summary?" I asked, clearly out of my depth. I could discuss software development and content delivery but this was out of my league.
"Okay, I told you my research was grant funded, right?" he looked at me, boring into me with those deep, dark brown eyes. Focus, Jason, focus.
"Um yeah. Research," I answered.
"And typically, that research would be reported to my granting institution and/or fellowship. The expectation is that summary reports of this research would also be submitted to peer-reviewed scientific journals in the field so that my research methods and data could be scrutinized, and in many cases, criticized by my peers Ð other scientists in my field," he went on. "With me so far?"
"Yeah," I said. "Your work is more credible when it's been reviewed by other wildlife biologists who review your methods and then agree with your findings."
"Exactly!" he said, awarding me with a huge smile that made my stomach flip and my cock twitch in my shorts. "But in this case, NSF and my representatives agreed that the story was too big to wait the 2-3 months on my submission of data and then another 6-8 weeks for review and or possible publication. The video evidence of my panther was too overwhelming. They wanted to leak the story to draw up public interest which would also pressure the scientific journal to fast track the review of my study once it's submitted. Nature saw the leaked video and decided to make it the cover of their July issue! My panther! That's the `amateur' summary. It's like a news article summarizing the major findings but also saying these findings haven't been peer-reviewed or substantiated yet. However, photographic evidence is hard to refute!"
"Wow," I said, mostly at that information but also at the animation in his handsome face and what that color in his cheeks was doing to the color rising in mine. I could feel my blush rise from my neck to my ears and the crown of my head. "That'sÉ amazing news, Joe. You must be so proud."
"Well, it's exciting and gut-wrenching at the same time. I mean, I've worked on this for more than six years, and I just wanted recognition for my research the usual way. I didn't know it'd be a media firestorm by releasing the video. And then, Nature magazine. I mean, that's $25,000 Jason." He said excitedly.
"Gosh, I didn't know scientists got paid for stories," I said.
"Well, typically, again, we don't. But Nature is a popular science magazine. It has a mix of research and popular stories with more than two million subscribers. Most peer-reviewed journals only have a few thousand in the area of specialization. Next to like, I don't know, maybe the New England Journal of Medicine, it's probably the biggest deal for a researcher like me," He responded. I was genuinely proud for him.
"Man, you are so surprising!" I said.
"What?" he asked mockingly, his deep baritone ringing out across the clearing to the slope behind the house. "You just thought I was some redneck? What'd you call me? Mountain man?"
I got up, not sure what force was propelling me to stand in front of him, but I did, leaning down to press my mouth onto his, taste his tongue, his peppermint toothpaste, and heavy, masculine taste of his bearded lips. "The sexiest mountain man I ever caught beating off on my porch," I teased. "And I really like the look, by the way," I said, standing back up and motioning with one hand at his presence. "Although I miss the long curls, this haircut is hot on you and the beard trim is very metrosexual. Trimmed up and cut, you look like a porn star."
Surprisingly, he blushed. Clearly, under his beard from neck to cheek, deep red.
"Um, thanks," He said. "I know a couple of guys who run a barbership in Flat Rock. Not many folks know they are gay, but I messed around with one of them a few times when I first moved back up here. I called him at last minute and he and his partner were excited to give me a makeover after-hours on Sunday afternoon. And my Gran was really thrilled with the haircut," he blushed. Then a shadow sort of fell over his face and he went on, "So, I guess we need to talk about how this `staying over' thing is going to work," he went on hesitantly. Uh-oh, I thought. Did I push too much on the sexual foreplay? "I mean, I have to really keep working on my research summary and data organization. I still have to get my article into NSF asap. And I don't want you to lose focus on your company, just because I'm here." He stated flatly.
"It's okay," I said, still standing, but a bit cold now. "I can keep it in my pants," I said sharply, heading into the kitchen. Why was I acting like a scolded child, I wondered? Hadn't I worried last night about this very thing. How would I get my work done when this behemoth, this `sex-on-a-stick' was walking around my small house all day. I felt his large hand on my shoulder and he spun me as I entered the kitchen.
"Hey," he said, grabbing me to face him. "Don't get pissed at me for speaking the truth, man. And who runs off like a damned baby when someone's trying to have an honest conversation? I thought communication was your thing?"
"What the fuck?" I said, reddening. "Did you, a guest in my house, just call me a damned baby?"
"Well, if the shoe fits," he started, but seeing the anger in my eyes, he backtracked, taking a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry if I was flippant." He held up both hands. "The truth is, you turn me the fuck on every way there is, and if I could have figured out anywhere else to hide out I would have. I had to talk to my dick all the way up here, saying `down Boy, down." A smile broke his lips. "Man, you do something to me."
I felt my blood pressure lowering as I watched him, observing the intensity of those dark brown eyes and feeling I could lose myself in them forever, and then I looked down at his crotch. He was sporting a semi; and that snake was halfway down his left thigh. I smiled back. "Does `down boy!' usually work for that?" I moved back from him and looked him in the eye. "I'm only what, six or seven years younger than you. Using my age in a fight doesn't seem fair," I began.
He moved to me and pulled me into his arms. He moved the hair off of my forehead and I looked up into his handsome, angled face framed by that new haircut and his trimmed, full beard. "I'm sorry, Stud," He began. "If I call you Baby in bed, will you forgive me?"
"Yes," I stuttered, not wanting to put away this anger yet. "But, IÉ we," what the fuck was I trying to say? When he touched me, every thought in my head just flew out the window.
"We need to have some kind of plan," I began, placing both hands on his hard, full pecs. "I mean, we've fucked, what? A lot. Right? And it was only over one or two days, but I want to KNOW you. I need to be able to talk to you. I mean, we haven't even had a real date." I protested stupidly.
"Jason," he began. "We're hiding out from the press in your mountain cabin because your husband is an internet sex tape sensation, and I recorded a video of an extinct panther and then got interviewed by an over-sexed field reporter with D-cups. We can't just go to Clyde's on fish fry Fridays and have supper. But I think we're both in agreement about this. That's what I meant when I said, we both need to have a work time' and maybe a play time' too."
"Play time?" I smiled up at him.
"Don't tease me, Boy," He growled and my cock lurched in my shorts. I leaned into him, smelling the masculine scent of his hairy chest and rubbing his strong shoulders. Why did this man send me into over-drive.
"I wasn't teasing. I laid awake last night worrying about how this would be, too. I'm a mess, Joe," he kissed me softly.
"You're not a mess," he whispered.
"But I am. I'm in therapy. Started this week. And I have a company that's a thousand miles away that I assured my business partner I could continue to help run, but so far, I've only zoomed some for three days and held meetings. I haven't even looked at last month's payroll or our projected client budgets for next month," I started, babbling about all I needed to do.
"Okay, Jay, listen," he said, grabbing my chin with that wide, callused hand of his and looking me straight in the eye. "I have work to do, too. Let me throw my duffle in the guest room and then you go into your `office' where you have it set up. I'll go back out on the deck and set up my laptop and stuff. We'll have our office hours. We'll meet back here for lunch?" he said dramatically.
"Well, technically," I said, "we're four hours ahead so I don't really start meeting with folks until after lunch here and I work through regular dinner time until I knock off around 8 then eat a late supper. I've been using the morning time to do my chores or get my run or workout in."
"Okay," he said, smiling broadly at me. "You do what works for you. I haven't figured out my workout/gym stuff yet because I don't want to be seen in town yet, but I'll figure that out. In the meantime, I'll go get started."
He turned to go, but I grabbed him back into the hug. "Wait," I said. "two things. I've got my old weight bench and some other stuff in the crawl space under the deck. You could set it up on the end of the deck like I used to in college. And it's too hot for you to work outside. You set up your office here in the kitchen and I promise I won't distract you."
"Is that two things?" he asked, pulling me in tight again to feel his pecs against my upper arms.
"It's only 5 AM at my office in Cali," I said, breathing into his hard chest bulging beneath the tight, Sierra Nevada t-shirt he had on. "Technically, we could have a morning fuck until my office openedÉ"
"Yeah," He said, looking down into my hungry face and putting his tongue in my mouth. He kissed me then half-lifted, half-dragged me into my bedroom. He was naked before I could pull my t-shirt over my head.
We swapped spit for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes and when he bent in took my entire shaft in my mouth, I literally saw stars. He sucked the head, licked the shaft and swallowed deep, taking my head into the back of his throat in a continuous rotation while every now and then jacking me with his large left hand that he kept wrapped around the base of my shaft. I thought I would nut in his hot mouth within moments. He moved to bath my shaved nuts with his large, rough tongue and started lazily licking up and down over my perineum then back to suck in one nut and then the other. I rolled my head and moaned in obvious bliss. He reached up with his right hand and tweaked my right nipple and I cried out. "Fuck man, you're gonna put me over the edge," I said.
"Not yet," he growled, crawling up over my abs, hovering above me and slowly dropping a stream of spit into my open mouth before following it and tonguing it deep into my mouth in a sensuous and fucking hot French kiss.
"I want that hot cock inside me again," he growled. "I need you to fuck me again, Jay," he said, using Luke's pet name for me that only he and Butch had ever used in bed with me. I pushed those memories from my mind and focused on the large, hairy, muscular man above me. Any gay man's fantasy lumberjack was sucking and kissing me and asking me to fuck him. What was there to think about.
"On your belly, Stud," I commanded. And he flipped and did as I asked. "I'm gonna ream and eat that hairy hole good, Man, then I'm gonna fuck you hard," I said authoritatively. I gasped. "What the fuck happened to the hair on your back?" I asked in astonishment.
"Oh, that," He smiled over his left shoulder. "That was part of my makeover last Sunday. Bill and Billy Joe wanted to make sure I was `totally groomed' for my 15 minutes of fame. Did you not notice they'd shaved my balls and trimmed my pubes too?" He joked. I looked down at those dark orbs pressed beneath his ass.
"Fuck, they look even bigger," I grabbed them observing. "Wait? What? Bill and Billy Joe, the two gay barbers?" I asked.
"Don't judge. It's B&BJ Barbershop!" he laughed. "And who am I to question of these guys wanted a little thrill for opening their place after hours and helping out a friend?"
"How much help?" I asked skeptically, rubbing my hands across the wide-ranged expanse of his flexed lats, the huge defined bulbs of his shoulders, now freed from their sexy, carpet of fur. They seemed somehow more innocent and young. I smoothed and kneaded, pressing my leaking cock into his crack as I rubbed and massaged down to his think waist and the expanse of his chiseled ass.
"it was just trimming. Nothing sexual, although I got hard when they trimmed my pubes. But they didn't do anything" he sighed into the pillow. "Damn, that feels fucking good when you rub my back like that."
"Wait, what's this?" I paused at the Tiger Paw up on his right shoulder blade. "How did I miss this the last time we fucked?" I thought I'd memorized every part of his body but now I rubbed over the highlighted orange and purple tattoo, clearly a Clemson logo but with the initials JDG Ð MTS in side.
"It's from my Clemson grad school days. Don't you know not to ask about drunken tattoos when you're fucking around with a guy?" He remarked and I knew I'd save that conversation for later. I bent to the task and could feel my hard cock leaking into his ass, desperate to fuck him again. Luckily, the boys had not shaved that mountain of muscled gluteus maximus and I bent down to inhale the scent of him and began to eat, nibble, and lick his crack, parting it with my hands to reach this still hairy, deliciously manly pink center of his ass. I delicately licked across his puckered center and he growled into the pillows.
"Oh fuck, Jason, eat that ass, Stud," he directed. "Get it ready for that big strong cock." I did as he directed and once I'd sucked, stretched with one and two fingers, and licked him clean, I raised my dripping mouth and wet beard to his neck.
"Ready for this cock, Stud?" I whispered.
"Fuck yeah, do it already," he growled, almost desperately. I reached on the bedside table, grabbed the lube and generously fingered his hole. Then I tore open the condom packet with my teeth and rolled it onto my aching member.
"Glove?" he questioned looking back.
"yes," I answered. "My tests were negative and I started on Prep Tuesday, but safe sex for the next 30 days. Now shut up and open up!" I pushed his neck down into the pillow with my left hand and guided my cock into his ripe, wet hole with my right. The head popped past his first ring and he moaned a guttural, "Fuck" then "So damn pushy and hard."
I pressed my shaft into his hot, tight hole, relishing the pressure and luxurious warm of my shaft inside this beautiful man. When my pubes were pressed tight against those hard globes, I lay down over the muscled back of my lover and began a long, slow, grinding fuck.
"I think you need a pushy man to control you every now and again, you sexy old fucker," I teased into his ear and licked it, beginning to pant as I rode this muscled stud into sexy oblivion.
Joe: A thousand thoughts were swirling through my head as I came down from my sweaty high, holding a sweaty, muscled blonde stud in my arms. First of all, how had I, Mr. Muscle and dominant top ask this handsome guy to fuck me again? When we'd grappled and played, all I could think was I want this guy inside me again. What was up with that? AND, I'd invited myself to move in with him, even if it was temporary. I'd never even stayed the night with any of my hookups, and there'd been plenty who asked. Find a hot bottom on Grindr who could host, preferably muscled and younger, go fuck him, get off, and come home. That had been enough for me for years. I didn't need another man in my life. One had been enough and that was a lifetime ago. No, I was playing with fire with this one. I'd been burned once and that was enough. But still, this man, this handsome, smart man was something else. And hadn't everything in my life changed ever since he'd walked up on me on his deck just a week or so ago. And now, I'd fucked him, he'd fucked me, and I'd spent the night with him. And moved into his cabin. This was going, where?
Jason moved against me and I pulled him tight, grunting.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he murmured into my right pit. The same pit he'd sniffed, licked, and rolled his entire face in during our hot and heavy foreplay.
"Man, you're justÉ" I hesitated. "You're something else. I was just thinking that this isn't usually how it goes with guys I meet," I answered.
"Yeah?" He raised up smiling questioningly? "Do those guys get taken on real dates to Clyde's for fish fry?"
"Um no. I don't date." I answered, probably a bit too brusquely.
"What do you mean? I mean, I haven't been out here in a decade or so, but isn't that what gay men do?" he asked seriously.
"No," I laughed, putting my finger on his thick, luscious bottom lip. Get a grip, Joe, I thought. "Um no. If I want to get off or get it on, I look on the app, find a suitable guy, and go fuck. That's it."
He sat up, pulling away.
"So, you're a Grindr slut?" He asked. Was he mocking me? Teasing me?
"Not a slut," I said, cautiously. "I don't fuck around all that much and I always play safe. Well, I did until a recent fuck afternoon with a certain blonde who shall remain nameless. I've been on Prep since it came out. About once a month or so, if the itch gets too bad, I get on the app, find a hot bottom who can host, and hook up. I rarely fuck the same guy more than twice. Too many complications."
"Wow," he said, shaking his head. "It seems sort of lonely, don't you think?" he asked.
I pushed back. I didn't need this younger guys' judgment. Seriously, he didn't even know that his husband was fucking around on him. What did he know? I could feel the blood rise in my face as I looked at him hard but then, damn. He was looking at me so openly. Those blue eyes and that lightly furred, muscled chest. My breath caught in me before I could get angry. Damn. Damn! I am in real fucking trouble here. I should pack up my fucking truck and run the hell away from here. Instead, I reached out my right hand. Placed it tenderly on his cheek rubbing his new, short beard softly. He purred into my hand.
"I know it seems harsh, baby," I said softly. "But I was really hurt once. Since then, I focused on my Ph.D., then began to develop my body and exercise, and then, since moving back, it's been just my job and research and my workouts. And Gran of course. I really moved back to be with her. She's my family. I didn't make time for a man in my life because I couldn't. Or maybe I just didn't want to."
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, taking my hand away and leaning back into my side. "Is that the initials in the tattoo next to yours?
"Do we have to right now?" I asked him. "I mean, I do want to talk about it eventually, but not right away," I said, afraid if he'd be angry about my not talking. "I mean, I know you said last time you needed a man who'd talk to you," he cut me off.
"I have a temper," he said. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I told you I'm a mess."
"You're not a mess! Deep down, we're probably all a mess. And honestly, I've talked more to you in the last week than any man in the last 15 years or so." I said honestly. "You're easy to talk to," I echoed, rubbing his strong, hairy quad next to my leg.
"If I'm with a man again," He began. "When I'm with a man again," He corrected, "I need to feel that he and I can talk to each other. I can't be in a relationship where I have to guess what he's thinking," he said honestly.
Oh shit, I thought. The R word.
"Jason," I said, looking him squarely in the face. "I don't know if I want a relationship."
He sighed.
"I mean," I began, "the sex is amazing. And I'm being honest, you're different than anyone I've been with in a really long time, but yeah, I don't know."
He looked back openly. "And I'm probably not ready," he said honestly, sighing too. "But I really like you, I'm not going to lie." He looked over at the bedside table.
"Oh Shit!" he exclaimed, reaching over me and grabbing the frame off the bedside table. "I keep forgetting to mention this to you."
"What?" I asked sheepishly. "Another crazy ex-husband in that picture?"
"He's not my ex, yet," he corrected, "and no. This is a picture of me and my two, adopted Dads. One you've met," he pointed at the guy I recognized as Dr. Goodman, the man I'd met months ago. Jason was young and handsome, standing in a cap and gown. It didn't look like Furman. Maybe at his Stanford graduation? And the other guy looked familiar. Tall, dark, shaved head. Salt and pepper beard. Glasses. A professor maybe?
He pointed at the third guy in the frame. "Look familiar?" he asked me.
"Yeah, like maybe he was a professor of mine or something," I thought out loud. Jason reached for his phone and pulled up a picture.
"How about this photo? Does it help?" He asked. I laughed out loud. It was from my high school yearbook, sophomore year. Coach Luke was standing next to me, one hand on my shoulder the other pointing off toward the gym court, in black and white. Immediately, I was transported. I could smell my own sweat, the dusty smell of the gym, hear the squeak of the sneakers on the court, and the warmth of Coach's strong hand on my shoulder, giving me encouragement about the set play he was sending in with me.
"Wait, Coach? That's Coach in your picture with you?" I pulled the frame up to the pic on his phone. "Coach Smyth is your other Dad? Holy shit! He's gay? I thought he was married." I was so fucking confused. But wow! He had aged but, yeah. It was him. And he was still sexy as fuck.
"I've been meaning to tell you since that first night when you described your high school coach and I realized, but, well," Jason stumbled, "I didn't know how to, exactly. I realized you probably thought he was still married. And then when I told Doc, that's what I call Luke. I was going to surprise you and maybe have him here sometime, but both Dad's said that was a bad idea, so.." he faltered.
I was, what? Shocked? Confused? I mean, this guy had known Coach Luke for years and thought of him as his Dad. But wait, was this the guy who'd fucked him?
"Okay," I began, trying to measure my words. "But is this the older mentor that you said took your cherry?"
"Wait, when did I say that?" He was now the shocked one.
"Well, you alluded. That first time we fucked here. Or was that Brock? Or did you fuck both of them?" I was starting to think this was one kinky, fucked up gay family. I demanded, "what exactly happened here with all of you?"
"It's really not all that complicated," he began, and then told me his story.
"So you see," he said after a few minutes of lengthy description. "Though I really sort of seduced Doc and then he introduced me to Brock sexually, when they realized they were a serious couple, they also realized they loved me too. But, I needed to grow up. So, I became more of the token gay son, and then they eventually got married. And really, I haven't lived here or near them since the year I went away to graduate school. I think my moving back has sort of shocked all of us. It was easier, probably, seeing me only 3 or 4 times a year and being a internet parent more or less. I mean, I rely on them, but it's been weird. I'm a man now. When I left, I was still a boy in a lot of ways."
"I guess I can see that," I said. Still shocked at this story, and weirdly, sort of, turned on by it. "So, tell me. When I told you about my coach fantasy and high school, did you realize it immediately?"
"I guess," Jason faltered. "It took me a minute to realize. If we hadn't been in the midst of such great sex I guess I would've said so immediately. And then, it felt weird to bring it up right after. I don't know. I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner."
"It's okay," I said, meaning it. I leant in to kiss him and then looked at the framed photo again. "Damn, having both of those sexy daddies in the house with you. Were you always into older guys?"
"Not at all," he said honestly. "All of the guys, well most, after that Ð when they kicked me out of the house to sow my wild, gay oats Ð almost all of the guys were my age or younger. Butch was two years younger than me when we started dating. And, I don't know, I guess they were the only two who could ever fill that role for me. You're the only old guy I've, well, we're not dating exactlyÉ" he trailed off.
"And I'm not fucking old!" I growled, tickling him. "And, as we were saying before you brought my fantasy into real life, um, we haven't decided what we are yet. Do we have to right now?" He sat up and put an arm around me.
"We both need to figure out our shit. But, I do like you a lot," he said.
"And, I really like you," I said, grabbing his hand.
"Okay," he said. "We like each other. Duly noted. Let's get a shower. You've got to get to work and I can start doing some stuff too."
"Can we shower together in that thing?" I asked him, smiling.
"We did it last time you `stayed over'," he teased.
"Oh yeah," I said, smiling at the memory. I slapped his ass as he crawled over me and out of the bed. "Let's use that pine-scented body wash again," I said laughing, following him naked into the bathroom.