Jason's First Workout Ð Part V, "Homecoming"
This original story was first written in 2007/08 and the last sections in 2012(?) My apologies to my heroes, the prolific writers on Nifty who provide ongoing, great work. My job expanded, my life got crazy, and I was more of a reader than a writer. I kept thinking about these characters however and felt the need to bring them into the current year. Hopefully through some flashbacks and other narrative devices we can catch the reader up. Please re-read the originals if you need to re-orient yourselves to the story and characters. And as always, contribute to this site so we can all continue to enjoy it. Thanks, Coach Luke
August 2020 Luke:
The iPad dinged on the top of the breakfast bar's granite countertop and I opened it to answer the FaceTime call.
"Brock, where are you? It's Jason Facetiming!" I yelled into the great room.
I opened the app and the screen resolved itself into the handsome, Nordic profile of my semi-adopted son, Jason. His dark blonde hair was sculpted with product showing off his nice fade and he was in a dress shirt and tie, clearly preparing himself to head out to his office. It must be almost 8 AM west coast time in San Jose.
"Hey Dads! How's it hanging?" Jason smiled.
"Hey Champ! Well, I just yelled for Brock but since he retired last January I can't keep up with him. He roams all over the damn house at all hours," I over-shared.
"I'm right here, dammit," my handsome husband exclaimed over my shoulder as he came into view in the small screen in front of me. "How you doing, Bud? We miss you."
"I miss you guys, too, Dad. In fact, that's why I'm calling." A cloudy look came over his handsome visage and I glanced into Brock's eyes through the screen. His large right hand squeezed my right shoulder, telegraphing me to keep my mouth (and my concerns) to myself.
"Listen, I was hoping if I could work it out in the next week or two, to try and get a flight out, if I could come home for a bit?" Jason looked pleadingly into the screen, "Flights are cheaper now and I think masked and suited up, it'd be safe."
"Son, that would be wonderful. You know you're welcome anytime. It's been a year since we were out in San Jose with you, and since you and Butch couldn't come for Christmas last year, well it's just been too long," I trailed off.
"I know, Doc and I regret it. Who the hell knew we'd have this mess and be in quarantine hell for months? It's been so crazy out here. The fires are crazy too. "
"Listen Champ," Brock offered. "You know you don't have to ask permission. Hell, just show up. The guest room's always empty though it has a lot of my old case file boxes still piled up in there. We'll be ready in ten minutes if we need to be. Is Butch coming with you?"
"No, uh, Dad, he's got a lot going on right now and that's part of the reason I need to see you guys. And well, the worst is, DadsÉ I had to put Trigger down last weekÉ" and on that his voice broke and he looked away. Trigger was my son and his husband's rescue German Shepherd mix that had to have been more than 15 years' old but had been with them for about 8 years or so. I wasn't surprised he'd gone on to his reward, but my heart always broke to see my boys hurting.
"Son, "I responded. "I'm sorry to hear it. I know what a great dog he was to you both. But he'd had a great long life and was already pretty mature when we got him at the shelter. You boys gave him a great, last years together. But I know saying it doesn't make it easier."
"I know, Dad. It was just another shitty thing this year has brought and it just sucks!" Jason said.
"You know we love you, Champ," Brock responded over my shoulder.
Jason hiccupped some mumbled words and said, "Listen guys. I love you. I gotta run to the office. Today is my day to try and work from there for a bit, even though mostly I'm still at home. But we're `transitioning' some and my partner and I are trying to provide some "presence". I'll email you both when I know more about my flights. Probably in 10 days to two weeks, okay?"
"Okay" we both offered.
"Bye guys. I love you," and he broke the connection.
I turned from the iPad on my barstool and wrapped my arms around the brawny frame of my lover. At 6'5" and still a trim 235, Dr. Brock Goodman, my husband, still made my cock tingle and my heart race after more than 13 years together. His once sparse blond hair was now shaved, just like my trimmed pate, but his broad handsome face was smooth-shaven, where I kept the salt-n-pepper beard. I buried my face into his broad, lean chest and sighed.
"Don't go off the deep end, Doc. You don't know any more than you did from that last email," he warned.
"But I told you, Brock! I could tell something was bothering him. I could read it between the lines. That last email was mostly about his business and the house. Nothing intimate and very little about Butch. I smell trouble."
"You are conjecturing and worrying because we've been stuck in this house for six months. First you worried about Covid19 in San Francisco, and then mudslides, then wildfires, and now this. The boy is a grown-ass man. If he needs us, he'll let us know."
"I never said mudslides, you big ass! Those are in southern Cali. And we know our boy, even if we don't see him enough. You yourself said last time he didn't look so good."
"Well, he looked damned good and put together just now. The buttons on that dress shirt were straining, so he's back in his gym or a better workout at home now. And you know it's never easy with two men. Maybe he and Butch had a fight. They've been together, what, 7 years now?"
"It's been 8 and still, couples grow apart. It was so whirlwind when they met. Jason had just finished his MBA at Stanford and then he meets the injured ex-baseball player who was one of the first jocks in the US to come out! It was crazy, and too fairy-tale."
"Yes, and they survived that media storm and all the shit the followed, and sthey till stayed together and got married. Our boy had fucked his way through half of Carolina and northern California by that time. He was old enough to know what or who he wanted?"
"Was he? Hell, did we?"
"No, we had no idea how hard it would be, but I still love you, Doc," Brock growled into my ear and reached for my growing cock through my shorts.
"Fuck B, I'm supposed to be `working from home.'"
"Dr. Smith, the Graduate School is almost all online and no one will know if you're fucking around with your handsome husband in the middle of the day unless you plan to Zoom it out to the universe." He kept on pawing my cock with his left hand and holding me tight with his strong, right arm.
"Fuck, B. Let's move this to the bedroom," I begged.
"No way, Luke. We're two hot studs who live alone. I want to fuck in the kitchen."
"Brock, Chase is still up in the garage apartment. He could walk in at any moment looking for his breakfast or lunch."
"The man-whore didn't come in until after 2 AM and his latest blonde bombshell left around 6 carrying her bra and high heels down the drive. I saw here when I was up making coffee. He won't be up before 1 PM. Now show me those goods." And with that, he squatted, unzipped my fly, and brought my cockhead to his lips.
With one strong slurp, he sucked in my hardening cock almost to the root and pulled my shorts down my legs and off. Taking his left hand, he began to pull on my hairy, low hangers while pistoning his head up and down on my shaft. He brought his mouth off trailing one long stream of spit off the head and made eye contact with me, giving me a smirk, and then went to work again with his hot mouth on my bulging, cut cockhead. I moaned with his ministrations and pulled his shaved head down onto my member, crowding my bush into his chin.
"Fuck," I moaned. "You are such a fine cocksucker."
"MMMhm," he answered, pulling off me. "I've had years of practice worshipping this man-cock." With that, he stood up, pulled his t-shirt over his head and dropped his cargo shorts. We'd gone commando around the house for years, but today I noticed he was wearing a hot, black jockstrap. A worn one I'd given him years ago. He took three steps over to the back of the couch in the keeping room and bent over.
"See anything you like, Sailor?"
I growled. The blonde short-hairs of his broad, sexy ass were glowing in the mid-morning light through the French doors and I hungrily pulled my t-shirt overhead, fell to my knees, and dove into those hairy, muscled orbs. Pulling his cheeks apart and the worn strap to the side, I fell into his hole, munching, licking, chewing and moaning. My man encouraged me by pressing his hole back into my jaw.
"Eat your boy's ass, Doc. Munch it before you fuck it, Stud!" And I complied. After all these years, this stud still made my 8 inches rock hard and made me want to pound him like a teenager. I reveled in his musk, the masculine smell of his ass and big, hairy balls. I reached around and began to stroke his 9 inches of uncut meat as I methodically licked and tongue-fucked his well-fucked manhole. He was leaking precum like crazy and I paused long enough to lick some from my left fingers and then finger more into his waiting hole.
"Damn Stud. I can't wait any longer," I barked as I stood and grabbed my hard cock, aiming my cockhead straight for his wet asshole. "You want it long or short, Bud?"
"Give it all to me, Daddy. I'm ready!" He begged.
"Okay, stud. You asked for it, you cock-whore!" and with that I aimed true and rammed my cock home, balls-deep. FUCK! His asshole felt amazing! Hot, velvety, and already so wet for my cock. Even though we no longer fucked daily, (or multiple times per day as we once had), it still felt like coming home to stick my rod in this fucking ass and give my man a good fucking ride.
"Holy shit, you feel good, B! Grip my cock, yeah, just like that." I moaned, picking up a rhythm.
"Pound me, Stud. Use that hole, and fuck me raw, man." I twisted and long-dicked him. Feeling my cockhead find his prostate and hammer it home over and over again. I knew I couldn't last long and I needed to make him cum or get him close before I seeded him. I grabbed his hips and rammed him for multiple strokes, then I hunched over his back, feeling the hard, hairy muscles beneath my chest and I gripped him tight with my right arm, rabbit-fucking into his willing pussy. I reached for his straining cock and felt his load release and shoot all over the back of the leather sofa. His climax clinched his manhole around my cock like a velvet glove and I cried out as I began to shoot my morning load into his sweet fuck hole.
I panted into the back of his now sweaty neck. "That fill you up, Bud?"
"Fuck yeah, Doc. You know how to breed me hard and fast. Was it good for you?" Brock asked.
"Always, Babe. You know that." I said.
"Well, it's just that last time, things didn't go so wellÉ" He began.
I pulled my quickly limpening dick from his rectum and slapped his ass.
"Dammit, I told you! I was too tired and too worried about other shit last time. You know, sometimes you forget that I'm an old man. I don't know why you have to bring up fucking history right when we've had a good fuck! Goddammit!"
"Hey, hey!" He said turning around and grabbing me into a sweaty bear hug. His imposing frame a good 3 inches above me and his biceps at least a third larger. "I'm sorry. I love you, Stud. AND you are not an old man. It happens to me too, as you well know. That's why I wanted to try the old surprise and fuck move this morning. I thought maybe it'd get you out of your own head for a change!"
"Well, now, it's back in my head,and I gotta clean up your cum off the leather again. Fuck B." I stormed out of the kitchen grabbing my clothes as I went and walking toward the back of the house and the master bedroom shower. I knew I was being a drama queen and that he was right, but fuck! Why'd he have to bring up erectile dysfunction right after an amazing fuck. Sometime having a fucking MD for a husband, even a retired one, was too damn much.
"I'll clean it up, Dammit!" I heard him shout as I turned on the shower, waiting for the quick tankless to get hot so I could get in. "You bet your ass you will," I thought to myself. I had just stepped in and reached for the soap when I felt two paws the size of kitchen plates grab my chest from behind and start to rub. Then I could feel his massive hairy chest press into my back and his nose and cleft chin were at my ear.
"You stomped off without any pillow talk, fucker," he growled into my ear.
"The topic of my occasional limp dick was your first phrase of thank you," I quipped, but I began to lose my anger quickly as I leaned back into him.
"I'm sorry, Doc. If you never got hard again or were dick-less, you know I'd still love you. Fuck, you could have a pussy and I'd still love you," he groaned, sliding his big cut cock over my hairy ass.
I turned into him, pressing my lips into his, and pressing our bodies together beneath the hot streams of the walk-in shower. I pulled away and looked into that broad, gap-toothed smile and those smoldering blue eyes. Fuck, this man made me crazy, and I loved him more than all the good in the damned world.
"A pussy, huh?" I smirked.
"A pussy, or even nothing, just a bare ass nothing. I'd love Doc the eunuch. Doc the dick-less," he chuckled.
"Just stop, Shit-head. You've made your point," I held him tight. "There's just so much shit going onÉ" He pressed my face into his hard, hairy pec.
"Shush," he whispered. "If you'd stop worrying so much about everything. What do I tell you? Control what you can control and let it go. You just love so hard, baby. The boys will be okay. Jason's okay. And if not, he'll tell us. He's coming home! Chase has the new job in Colorado and will be moving out of the apartment. Hooray! You can stop worrying. Sam and Janie are through the first trimester! Our first grandbaby is 1/3 of the way here. It is a damn amazing world and us two gay fucks are eating it like a damn Ice cream Sundae! We're blessed, Babe!"
I smiled into his chest, then leaned back and took the soap to start soaping up his cock. As predictable as the sunrise, I always started washing him with his best feature.
"How come you're so good to me?" I asked as I soaped up my man.
"Because we fit, Doc. You and me, yin and yang. When I'm low, you pick me up. When you're low, ditto. When the practice was for shit and I wanted to retire early, you said `do what is best for you and stop worrying about other people.' You met a lonely, college boy who needed a Daddy and you helped him Ð you helped him come out, find his way as a gay man, and get into grad school and live a great life. You raised two, smart, open and accepting straight sons who accepted you for who you were and now they love us both. You're amazing, man."
"I couldn't have done it without you, Stud," I said seriously, turning him into the spray to rinse him off. "I would have been a lonely, closeted recluse if I'd never met you."
"Bullshit!" He turned and began to soap me up. "We saved each other, Luke. As much as the other. I love you, Stud," he pecked me on the lips and turned me to start soaping up my back and then my ass. "And I do so fucking love this hairy man's body. Whoo-whee! That is one fine ass," he exclaimed as he soaped up my crack and put two hairy fingers in my hole.
Before I knew it, he had me bent over in the shower and I was breathing out through my nose and struggling to open my hole for my lover's rock-hard, 9-incher. Despite having shot a load over the furniture not 30 minutes earlier, he slowly stroked his cock in and out of my soapy hole until he shot 3 or 4 strong ropes of jizz deep into my hot tunnel. I moaned as he moaned over me, reaching over my shoulder to tongue my mouth with his and whisper again how much he loved me. Fuck, I thought. As usual, he made me feel better with his words as well as his dick!
Brock:
We'd seen Chase off before 6 AM, pulling his U-haul trailer out of the driveway behind his Subaru, finally on his way to Colorado. Luke had gotten a little misty but not too much. It was finally time for this 28 Ð year-old to fly the nest. Since he'd bounced back after his job loss during the pandemic, we'd had to all adjust to having an adult son living in our rental space and doing as he pleased, but also mooching a bit. We were glad he had a new job, a new challenge ahead out of state, and that he was finally out of our hair! I mean, I love the kid but damn!
"What say we go ahead and get started on seeing what shape the apartment's in and start cleaning before we pick up Jason arrives. We have almost a week before we pick him up at the airport but why wait?" I asked Luke. He roused himself and said, "I need more coffee first. And besides, it wasn't that bad when we were loading him up last night. I did an early reconnoiter already."
"Okay, coffee first," I agreed. "But seriously, it's gotta be aired out. It smelled like pot and pussy in there last night!" I chortled.
"Agreed," he said, grabbing me by the hand and lugging me back into the kitchen through the backdoor. Once we each had our travel mugs, we stood and looked through the back windows, over the deck and to the mountains beyond.
"I love you, Stud," he said. "Thanks for being such a good Dad to my boys."
"It's my pleasure, Doc. I love you too, so that makes it easy," I proffered.
"Okay, I guess we can't put this off any longer. I've got the bathroom cleaning supplies in that bucket, if you'll grab them," Luke ordered. "The small vacuum should still be in that closet in the apartment. I doubt it's been used in months. I told him to strip the bed and leave the linens and towels in the floor of the bath. I'll run up and get those and bring them back down to wash first thing. You get started in the bathroom."
"Sir, yes sir," I saluted and slapped him on the ass as we made our way upstairs to the garage apartment. We made quick work of the apartment, evening vacuuming the blinds, wiping down the baseboards, scrubbing the small kitchenette and the small, full bath smelled Clorox fresh when we were done. We were back down stairs by 8:30 AM and having breakfast before we'd worked up too much of a sweat.
We were both downing our protein shakes when Luke looked over and said, "should we tackle the guest room, and all of your boxes next? Flora was in last Friday, but she only did the hall bath. I told her not to bother in the guest room until you'd straightened up a bit."
"Yeah," I agreed. "If he wants to stay close to us, we should be able to offer him that room instead of the apartment. Since he's been pretty vague about the length of the trip, it may only be a night or two. If that's the case, we may want to look at putting the apartment back on the web for rent."
"Whoa, Cowboy. Let's just take it one day at a time. You start with the boxes on the bed, and I'll go up and open the bonus room to the attic. That way, you'll have a straight shot," Luke told me.
"Wait. How do you know I want this stuff in the attic?" I asked.
"Babe," Luke said, grabbing my face. "You retired in January. You said you wanted to go through those files and sort things out before you put them away. They've been sitting in and around that bed since then. We've had a pandemic. We've been quarantined. If you haven't done it yet, you're not going to anytime soon, and we need that bedroom!"
Knowing I wasn't going to win this one, I gave my stud a wet, sloppy kiss and turned down the hall to the guest bedroom, ready to finish our chores and finish readying the house for our oldest son, the handsome prodigal's return.
Three days later Ð Luke:
I was back from my morning run, having drunk my 33 ounces of water and starting in on my coffee when Brock stumbled into the kitchen, reached for his mug and began stirring his beverage. I knew better than speak to him before he'd at least had a sip. Hearing the quiet squeak of the back door opening, I was just turning to see who or what was there when I was enveloped in a massive hug by a broad-chested blonde in a ratty FU t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops.
"Damn Doc, you're a sweaty mess!" my boy exclaimed. Brock was around the bar top and enveloping both of us in a group hug, lifting us up and squeezing for all he was worth.
"Fuck! Shit! Damn Dad, you're hurting me," Jason yelled.
"Language!" I responded. Then my handsome man pulled us back into a hug, holding both of his Dad's one in each arm, burying his face into my chest and then Brock's.
"Damn, I missed you guys," and then he surprisingly began to sob. We held our boy close, and I looked over the blonde locks into my husband's eyes where he raised one questioning eyebrow. We kissed the side of Jason's neck, rubbed his back, and held him until he got himself together. Pulling him back, I looked into his eyes and said, "We've missed you, Champ. What's going on? I thought we were picking you up at the airport in, what? Seven hours."
"Yeah, Doc. About that. I drove my Jeep. With a U-haul. I left three days ago," Jason stammered. "I've left Butch. Or rather, he left meÉ it's kind of complicated," and then he began to cry softly again.
"Hey Bud," Brock said softly, "why don't we all sit down and you can tell us about it."
"Well, I pretty much talked for Chase to hours while he was driving west last week and that got me thinking, why fly? I'll just drive home. And I was about to stop just east of Memphis at midnight last night, and I thought, no, I want to see my Dads. Fuck it! I'm driving all night. And I did," Jason said, sitting on a barstool and reaching for my cup of coffee.
"Oh God, that's good coffee," he smiled into my eyes.
"Champ? I meant, why'd you leave San Jose with a U-Haul? Why'd you leave Butch or whatever?" I asked.
"Doc. It's a long story and I'm exhausted. Do you mind if I sleep first? I can barely keep my eyes open and I promise I'll tell you all of it later," Jason yawned. I pulled my boy, now this grown-man, into my chest again and held him. Brock came behind him and did the same.
"You guys smell the same," he snuffled. "You smell like home."
What the fuck had happened I wondered? Every fear and suspicion I'd worried over the last few months was now confirmed. I could feel the broad expanse of muscle in my arms relax into our group hug. He felt different. He had put on weight. No, he had added muscle maybe and he looked older, more mature definitely, stronger somehow, but also so vulnerable. The release, the sounds he was making, still reminded me of the 22-year-old boy who'd first stolen a part of my heart. Damn, why is loving so hard? Could Brock and I help him, I wondered? Should we let him come home? Too late now.
Coffee. Sleep. Then we'd figure it out. Together.
My eyes met Brock's. He was nuzzling down into Jason's hair, rubbing his back with one hand, and my now drying, sweaty back with the other. We'll love him through it, I thought. It's what Dads do.
(Stay tuned for part VI Ð New Beginnings.) Coach Luke Ð olcoach44@gmail.com