"Playing with Matches"
I
Around the living room, Cole raked his irises of honey-brown. Never had he seen so many matched items and polished surfaces. No wonder Rick wanted his other property painted pronto--to pay for the goodies of this house with the rent income of that apartment.
"Would you look at that screen?" Rick said. He sat up on his black loveseat of leather. "Our first baseman is switch-hitting."
Tod's soft-spoken voice sounded abruptly curt. "Don't start with that."
"What," Rick uttered.
"Don't play dumb with me."
"You're right," Rick pattered like an automaton. "So I'll come out and say it. Number 22 is horny as the pigs; he has obviously failed to find a chick on the diamond; and he is thus searching for a dude to fuck."
"Would you show some respect for our guest?" Tod said.
"I'm sure Cole can take a lewd joke," Rick said. He turned left his squarish face of light cream and gave Cole a coquettish eye.
Cole spoke with a Tennessee drawl, one that was three times thicker than Tod's Piedmont drawl and Rick's brogue. Offhandedly, Cole said, "I can take a joke."
"That's my buddy," Rick said and slapped Cole's swarthy thigh.
Who would have known? Cole thought. Tod, the blond fresh out of high school, was acting mature relative to Rick, the dark-haired manager of a workout center. Tod even refrained from lolling back on his cream recliner of waxy leather. Rick, by contrast, had his legs on the glass coffee table, black hiking boots and all. If anyone was showing consideration for Cole, it was Tod.
Cole swigged some beer out of his glass bottle.
"See?" Rick said. "My talk is inciting Cole. If I didn't know better, I'd say he wants to suck dick."
"Watch it!" Cole said.
"Don't take it personally," Rick protested. "We're all loaded as that player." Rick wrapped his lips around the head of his glass bottle.
Petulantly, Tod sucked his incisors of porcelain white.
Rick slipped his lips off the neck of his bottle. This made the sound of air escaping the unfastening lid of a jug of water. "There," Rick said. "We're even now."
What, Cole wondered, would his wife say if she knew whom Cole was hanging out with? If only Sheena's mother weren't so ill. Sheena would then have returned from Kentucky; she would have brought back Sheena and Cole's little boy; and the three would no longer be separated. As for Cole's side of the family, Cole could only guess: what if his parents and older brother hadn't pressured him to conform to their way of doing things? Then, Cole wouldn't have to stay away from them--especially, on weekends--and he wouldn't be hobnobbing with Tod and Rick. Only Cole's younger brother and younger sister accepted him despite the mistakes Cole had made through his teens and most of his twenties. Cole's younger siblings, however, lived under the same roof as his crucifiers.
Rick croaked, "I can lend you my wife, you know."
"You're bluffin'," Cole said.
"I'm serious," Rick replied in a rapidly rising tone.
"Jeepers creepers," Jennifer said.
Cole nearly flinched, but he managed to smoothly turn left his oval face.
Jennifer clacked onto the white mega-tiles of the family room. Her scent of jasmine prickled Cole's narrow nostrils.
Cole's tight chest pulsed as if a bass drum were beating in the bedroom behind him.
Jennifer lipped, "You duds just won't let up on Cole."
"Hey!" Rick said, his voice verging on drunk. "We're only taking a hard break from a hard week."
"Cole is married, for the love of God," Jennifer said. "In a closed marriage."
"Cole's wife doesn't have to know a thing," Rick said, "and you, my wife, can have plenty of fun with him."
"Do you really think I would betray one of my sisters?" Jennifer said.
"Don't come to us with your feminist crap," Rick said. "You're the gal who coaxed me into swinging. Now, you want to see Cole remain monogamous?"
"Don't get smart with me," Jennifer said. "I introduced you to nonmonogamy with girls and guys who were all single--not married with a 2-year-old son."
Silence washed over the sunlit room like the sound wake of a passing jeep. Tod, however, fidgeted in his cream recliner.
The quiet rippled away like butterflies to a breeze.
Tod mumbled as if he had marbles in his mouth. "You can't tell Cole's wife we had this conversation."
"I'm no tattletale," Jennifer said. "What you do is your business. But I won't be party to it."
"To each his own," Rick said. He raised his beer bottle as if to a toast.
Every part of Jennifer's froze in annoyance--her dark orbs, her round nose, the freckles on her pale cheeks; the oval contour of her girlish face; and her gloved arms of black velvet and stockinged legs of black nylon.
Jennifer unfroze. "If I catch or hear of you luring Cole into something immoral, you'll have to make do without my vagina."
"For how long?" Rick said in jest.
"For as long as you guys are doing ... whatever it is you're thinking about doing. I'll be with my girlfriends."
With that, Jennifer spun toward the white screens of the shoji. Her shoulder-long curls of black flipped toward the paper panels of the room divider. Jennifer disappeared behind the checkered multifold. The front door of oakwood whiffled open. And her black low-heels of padded leather crackled on the walkway like the clicks of an electric range switched on cold.
Had it not been for the door spring, the front door would have slammed shut.
"I won't have a girl tell me what I can and can't do," Rick said. He turned his attached earlobes right. "Are you with me?"
Tod's hazel irises moved as if following a Ping-Pong ball. In a muse, they bounced from Rick's baby blues to the glinting floor, from the white mega-tiles to the bamboos perpendicular to the big screen TV, and from the greenery back to Rick's eyes.
Rick's voice rumbled. "I said, `are you with me?'"
Tod jiggered his toned shoulders. "I guess."
Tod's words pounded Cole's stomach like a boxing glove a punching bag.
Rick turned his shaved face left, and he jolted up his dimpled chin at Cole.
Dick sucking? Wife sharing? Cole had no choice but to feign ignorance--at least, until he had the chance to think things over on his own. "What are you talkin' about?"
"I'm talking about doing some serious rock `n roll," Rick said. Toward the end of his sentence, he jerked off the neck of his bottle.
How Cole hated being backed to the corner like this. "If you're talkin' about sowin' our oats, I'll have to pass."
"Have?" Rick said.
"I'm a married man," Cole answered.
"Is your wife giving you pussy?"
Cole puffed a laugh. "You don't wanna know."
"Tell me," Rick pressed.
Once more, Cole was going down in life. "After the baby was born, ma wife lost her ... sexual appetite."
"I knew it," Rick said, snapping two fingers. "When was the last time you fucked her?"
The cool room doubled in temperature, and the scent of perfumed apples intensified--compliment of Jennifer's candles burning in the foyer. Cole's mutter was a tad louder than the chatter of the spectators on the television. "Ain't you gonna watch the game?"
"Was it a week ago?" Rick said, twirling his hands around each other as if they were a couple of pinwheels. "A month ago?"
"I haven't been intimate with ma wife in ... three months."
"Holy Moly!" Rick said, marching to his black hiking boots. "A stud like you?" Rick turned his sharp nose back. "Tod, we have to do something about this dude."
Cole rose from the black loveseat of leather. The jute fibers of Cole's sandy-brown hair riffled on his strong shoulders. "I can take care of ma self."
Rick turned his sharp nose back front. "You're not leaving, are you?"
Cole glanced from Rick's black pants of cotton to Tod's pale blue jeans. Only Cole was showing the skin of his legs. This accentuated Cole's discomfort. Cole drawled, "Just make sure you pay me on Thursday."
"As soon as I get those tenants to sign that lease," Rick said. "Incidentally, you did a great paint job on the inside of that apartment."
Cole looked at Tod so as to say: This guy needs to screw some nuts upstairs.
Tod bid Cole a dopey nod. Then, Tod grasped the lapels of the brown jacket of suede he was wearing.
Cole noticed the red lining of Tod's car coat. The red satin of the inside and the brown suede of the outside combined well with Tod's hazel irises and with his short and tidy hair of dishwater blond.
Cole brushed his eyes over the fuzzy parting at the front of Tod's hair. Cole brought the leading edge of his hand to his forehead and offed the thing to Tod in salute. "Enjoy the game."
II
Walking up the driveway, Cole felt uneasy. On the one hand, he needed to get paid. On the other hand, being around Rick was something no straight man would do--particularly, one who was married. Cole would leave as soon as he got Rick's check. So Cole assured himself. Moreover, the young man concluded, he would never return to the approaching house.
Cole snatched off his black sunglasses.
The white cobblestones of Rick's bungalow gleamed in the morning sun.
Cole squinted and turned his stubbled face left.
The grass of the front lawn sheened with viridescence.
Again, Cole squinnied. He straightened his head and entered Rick's garage.
The rear of Rick's silver pickup faced Cole, its glossy metal the stuff of car ads. Even the tailpipe glinted with the hue of mountain water.
Cole stomped one of his brown brogans as if shaking snow off it.
Rick stuck his head out from under his hood. "Hey, bud!"
Cole stepped further into the garage.
Rick neared Cole and extended a blackened hand.
Cole shook it. "Looks lak your truck needs some fixin'."
"The battery came loose," Rick said.
Cole chuckled. "Not on the interstate, I hope."
"Nah," Rick said. "It happened as I bumped onto the driveway."
"You're lucky," Cole said. "The wires in ma van would never withstand a drav over terrain lak that." Cole glimpsed back to emphasize the curb that preceded Rick's driveway. "Even without bumpin' over that, I may have to replace ma spark plugs."
"I can get you some, if you want," Rick said.
"I'd rather not replace ma spark plugs, yet," Cole replied.
"Why not?"
"My engine hasn't turned off on the road, although it's showin' signs," Cole said. "Besides, the moment you start pullin' out things under the hood, more things get out of whack. Before you know it, you gotta retrofit the ignition coil, the distributor, oxygen sensors--"
"I disagree," Rick interrupted. "Working people need dependable transportation--especially, a handyman like you. What if your van goes dead, at night, in the middle of nowhere? Are you ready to make your tools vulnerable like that?"
"I'm really strapped," Cole said. "I got ma wife this spic-and-span sedan. Between car payments, the house mortgage, food, cable, telephone, utility bills, and who knows what, I can't afford to make unnecessary repairs."
"Letting a spark plug wire deteriorate until things go south will only create major problems down the line," Rick said. "Guys have to keep top-notch wires under their hoods."
"I didn't say spark plug wires," Cole answered. "I said spark plugs, where the wires go. Those I'm hesitant to replace."
"If the spark plugs aren't working for your spark plug wire, you may have no choice but to retrofit the spark plugs altogether," Rick said. "Capiche?"
Cole saw the connotation all too well. He had to care for his wire. That, however, would have required replacing all three sockets, two of which Cole's wife never offered him in bed. Clearly, Sheena's spark plugs were not servicing Cole's spark plug wire in the manner he wanted. Cole's dick twitched in frustration.
Rick said, "Give me that wrench."
Cole reached toward the wooden workbench and tossed Rick the silver tool.
Rick caught it with one hand. He leaned slightly forward as if about to step toward Cole, shifted his weight back, and tootled back to the silver hood. "Sounds like you have a lot on your shoulders," Rick said.
The subterranean vulgarity in Cole's voice emerged louder than usual. "I'm managin'."
"I know about managing," Rick said argumentatively. From the left side of his hood, he stooped toward its underside. "I'm an assistant manager, for God's sake." Rick twisted his soiled arms to his wrench. "Sometimes, however, things can only be handled in certain ways."
"Excuse me?" Cole said.
Rick peeked out from under his silver hood. "Do I have to get graphic with you? I'm talking about your cock!"
Rick might as well have slugged Cole. For the first time, Cole wanted to put Rick in his place--and this meant doing something that most fellows didn't do.
Rick finished tightening his battery clamps. "There." He un-stooped, sashayed to the workbench, and chucked the wrench. "Let me see if I understand," Rick said, standing in front of Cole. "You work like an ox and provide for your family. You give your wife a son and the freedom to be away from you whenever she wants. Then, Sheena refuses to give you some cooch? For three months?"
"Lots of women go sour downstairs after havin' a baby," Cole retorted.
"If you come home tired, are hungry for a sandwich, and politely ask your wife to make you one, would she say no because she wasn't hungry?"
"Of course, not!" Cole said.
"Then, why can't women apply that principle to sex?"
"Beats the hell out of me," Cole said.
"I am offering you the chance to unload your balls--big time," Rick said. "What sexually deprived man would decline such an offer?"
"I can't cheat on ma wife," Cole said.
"In the ideal world, cheating wouldn't be necessary," Rick said. "Open marriages would be acceptable. The absurdity of one man falling for one woman, marrying her exclusively, and never again lusting after--much less, having sex with--other people would be recognized as such. Absurdity. Human beings aren't built for that."
Cole whined, "I can't have sex with a second woman."
Rick ambled past Cole, stopped under the yellow rectangles of the aluminum garage door, and turned to Cole. "Straight women," Rick said, half to himself. "They are so suburban."
"How d'you mean?" Cole said.
"Bikini briefs, for example. Lots of men enjoy wearing them. But more often than not, their ladies freak out. How the hell are men supposed to explore their less macho side with taboos against things like that?"
Cole spoke like an adolescent boy afraid to ask a girl out on a date. "D'you enjoy wearin' ... bikinis?"
"I prefer cotton briefs," Rick said. "Tod, however, loves to wear bikinis. His girlfriend fucking dumped him for that."
"Tod wears ... bikinis?" Cole said incredulously.
"Yeah!" Rick said.
"... and he fucks chicks?"
"Sometimes," Rick said.
"I don't get it," Cole replied.
Rick spoke matter-of-factly. "Tod loves the feel of nylon on him, just like many guys."
"This is gettin' too kinky for me," Cole drawled.
"Brace yourself, then," Rick said, "because the 2020s will be for men what the 1960s was for women."
"Come again?" Cole said.
"The coming decade will be about straight guys embracing their bisexuality."
A guitar string of steel snapped inside Cole.
"Living in the late teens, we can already see the beginnings of that," Rick proceeded. "Sociologists predict that by 2030, 24% of the population will identify as bisexual."
"How could that be?" Cole said. "Men are straight."
"As in heteroromantic," Rick countered. "But for men in particular, that doesn't mean they can't be bisexual. After all, males can have sex with or without romantic feelings. They can wank off with anyone. It is women who need a romantic relationship to get them going sexually. Therefore, sociologists predict that male bisexuality will be more widespread than female bisexuality. Monogamy, I remind you, is a gal thing."
Cole's brain cells could barely keep up. Still, he managed to speak. "If men are so bi, wha do they act so straight?"
"Social programming," Rick said casually. "Also, men know that most ladies don't dig the sight of men shagging. So men keep their mouths shut and repress the gay side of their bisexuality. The good news is that more women are getting turned on by gay sex--just like most men are turned on by lesbian sex."
"Sounds lak a load of hooey," Cole said.
"Experience will teach you otherwise," Rick said.
What was Rick trying to do? Cole griped. Impress him with his Ivy League bullshit?
Stillness fell onto the garage like a giant wedding veil.
Cole's mouth broke the quiet much as a stack of books spilling out of a backpack. "If ma wife discovers me in a compromisin' position, ma marriage is over. Her folks will disown me, and ma family will take me to the guillotine."
"Thus, we have no choice," Rick said.
"What d'you mean?"
"Either your gonads burst, or we get discreet," Rick said. "I know the perfect place where we can be discreet."
Cole parted his lips and drew air to utter something. Something, however, corked his mouth.
Never had Cole been unable to speak. His heart sank like a pancake hitting a skillet, and his cock grew like a dry bean swelling under water in fast motion. On the one hand, Cole's heart nudged him to be a gentleman. On the other hand, Cole's dick tugged him in Rick's direction. Would Rick really find him a woman? Cole wondered.
III
The wooden boards creaked to the skirring of the three. Never had Cole skedaddled--much less, over a woman. If Cole's wife caught Tod, Rick, and Cole, not only would she have become suspicious. Sheena would have ended Cole's marriage to her. Hopefully, Cole thought, Rick told the hussy to hide until the yacht was safe at sea.
Tod hopped onto the white floating iron.
The whump of rubber sneakers on metal resounded in Cole's ears like a cannon firing at dawn.
The lightbulb to Cole's left went out.
Now, Cole thought, any onlookers had even more reason to be leery of Tod, Rick, and Cole's behavior. Surrounded by the night, Cole skimmed the quayside.
Rick and Cole entered the limelight of the quay light that followed. Never had a purple-white light shined so brightly.
Quickly, Rick untied the rope of yarn.
Cole flitted onto the white yacht.
Rick jumped in after him.
The full moon resembled a golf ball on a black blanket. The many stars, in turn, glittered as if the salt grains of the sea had been dispersed into outer space.
Cole shuddered at the thought of being watched from the darkness of the encircling ocean. Whatever was about to transpire, it would have to occur inside the boat, Cole swore to himself.
On the second deck, Rick turned off the motor.
On the ground deck, Cole's chaise longue stopped vrooming. Still, Cole felt the leftover itch of the seat slats on his calves, hamstrings, and duff.
Cole turned his straight nose right.
Like Cole, Tod was lounging on a white deck chair. The yellowish lightbulbs of the boat lit Tod's jade-green polo shirt and blue jeans. Tod's jeans were frayed here and there and looked as if washed routinely in hot water.
Was Tod wearing bikinis? Cole wondered. Impossible. Not an all-American dude like Tod. Rick must have been pulling the wool over Cole's eyes--or at least, trying to--when he told Cole otherwise, Cole concluded.
The white vessel pitched and rolled.
Cole fidgeted on his white chaise longue. "What does Rick have in mind, anyway?"
"I wish I knew," Tod said in his soft-spoken voice.
Cole's eyes took in the yacht's varnish of whitewashed metal. "I can't believe anyone owns a boat lak this."
"Rick's boss owns two workout clubs," Tod said, "one of which Rick manages."
"I bet," Cole said, not quite believing it. If so, Cole's thoughts went on, that man must really trust Rick to lend him his yacht. "Is Jennifer your girlfriend, too?"
"In a manner of speaking," Tod said.
Was Jennifer hiding inside the boat? Cole wondered. If so, how could she? After all, Jennifer was not the kind of chick to "betray one of her sisters." If Jennifer wasn't aboard, however, what was Tod doing there? Did he plan to cheat on his girlfriend? If so, with whom?
Someone clapped once.
Cole quailed.
Rick walked a slow half-circle toward the front of the white chaise longues. "Are you tigers ready to rock `n roll?"
Cole caught his breath. "What are we gonna do?"
Rick stopped in front of the white deck chairs. "In a nutshell? Tod is going to suck our dicks. Then, we're going to fuck his ass."
Cole's jaw dropped as if to small weights.
"It's alright," Rick said. "You can watch if you feel guilty about participating--although I assure you, once you see Tod's butt, you're going to want to go all the way."
"You brought no babes?" Cole said in disbelief.
"I would have," Rick said. "But you stressed that you wouldn't have sex with a woman, other than your wife. I thought you were serious."
Cole rose to his black flip-flops; he shook his head; and he ankled past Rick. Cole turned back to the front of the vessel. "You gotta be kiddin'."
"About fucking Tod?" Rick said. "I mean every word. You want me to prove it to you?"
Cole's wad stiffened, and this scared the jeebees out of him. For the first time in his life, Cole dared not speak.
"Three months," Rick said. "Are you prepared to go another three months without sex?"
How Cole wanted to say no.
"If you prefer, you can jerk off to our action," Rick said. "That's not cheating, is it?"
"I ... I guess ..." If only Cole could get his legs to stop shaking. "I guess not."
"Then, we're set," Rick said. He turned his lean physique toward Tod's slender one.
Tod rose from his white deck chair and pulled off his jade polo shirt. Tod!
Rick undid the white buttons of his executive shirt of wine. He inched toward Tod and became an inch taller than 5' 10" Tod. Against Tod's bared pecs, Rick pressed his outlined pecs.
Cole felt as if he were watching a college graduate sit on the butt of a high school sophomore.
Tod and Rick puckered their lips. Their lips touched like clinking goblets, and the guys sipped from each fold as if sweet sap were to be extracted. In the process, Tod and Rick sounded like they were sucking from the same lollipop.
Spellbound, Cole's eyes froze on boyish-faced Tod and on preppy-faced Rick.
Rick unpasted his strong lips from Tod's soft ones. This made the sound of a cork popping off a bottle from under a pillow. Rick slipped down and sucked one of Tod's erect teats.
Tod leaned his soft neck back.
Cole could not believe his eyes! Here were two fellows, giving and sucking breast the way a woman and a man made love.
Over Tod's fledgling pec, Rick's head gyrated like a spinning top.
Tod's fingers winded over the dark crown of Rick's noggin.
Cole's pubes began to pull painfully. He, however, refused to unzip his mahogany knee pants of corduroy. Instead, Cole hollered. "Guys!"
Rick unglued his lips from Tod's engorged nipple. A little out of balance, Rick rose back up.
Tod's hand fell off Rick's short, front-combed hair of coffee bean brown.
Rick turned his groovy body right. "You're not getting cold, are you?"
How could Cole possibly answer? If he admitted his excitement, then Tod and Rick would see Cole as queer-in-the-making and do who knew what to him. Cole might even have to jump overboard. Conversely, if Cole took the high ground, then Tod and Rick would resume their insanity--just to break Cole's resistance. "It's June," Cole said. "Of course, I'm not cold."
"You're right," Rick pattered. "Let's get some drinks."
Cole didn't even shift his weight.
Tod, however, marched to a redwood door--one with a circle window at the top-center, a scarlet curtain of taffeta behind the glass, and a yellow-white light behind the curtain. Tod pulled the door open, traipsed into the yacht, and left the reddish door ajar.
Seldom had Cole felt so disappointed--especially, by a dude who had not only respected Cole's heterosexuality but also given every indication of being straight himself. Why, Cole wondered, had Tod let him down?
With his sharp nose, Rick pointed toward the reddish door.
Cole's groin felt like a volcano about to erupt.
Rick didn't untie his dully shined black shoes. He simply slid off them and stayed in his white socks of cotton. Rick padded away from the light-brown counter--one with a board-shaped cushion of maize around it--and handed Cole a round glass of cider.
Cole took the thing.
Rick returned to the front of the wet bar and poured from the decanter into another glass.
The downpour sounded like a small fountain.
Rick passed Tod the second glass.
Tod clutched the square thing. He hobbled toward the davenport parallel to the wet bar like a boy afraid of spilling a glass of orange juice before his father. Tod sat on the beige davenport, and the buckskin cushions twanged softly.
Rick served himself cider, and the three chugged like steam engines snorting to a lever being stepped upon. In a slice of a minute, the young men lowered their raised faces and ahed like camels who had drunk from buckets.
Cole hadn't realized that he was so thirsty. Now, the cold beverage loosened up some strings in him.
Rick set his square glass on the bar counter of oakwood. "Help me untie his sneakers."
The rawness of doing that gave Cole a boner.
Rick knelt on the Berber rug of yellow.
Tod lay back on the beige cushions of the davenport.
Rick unlaced Tod's white basketball sneakers.
"That's it," Tod said. "Get me naked."
"You bet I will," Rick grizzled. "Just wait till Cole sees your bikinis."
Rick couldn't be for real, Cole thought.
Rick turned his baby blues right. "Are you going to stand there like a sentry?"
Cole set his round glass by the black mini-fridge and knelt beside Rick. With trepidation, Cole hoisted Tod's other white sneaker.
The sight and feel of Tod's basketball sneakers accentuated for Cole one key difference between men and women. Tod's white sneakers looked soiled, as opposed to the spotless ballerina shoes of various colors that Cole's wife liked to wear.
The teen dirtiness of Tod's white basketball sneakers aroused Cole like nothing up to then. This surprised Cole.
Against the silence, Tod's white shoelaces tinkled like raindrops on a canvass. Tod whiffed like a cub, and Rick's joints clunked like popcorn. The enclosed environment, in turn, amplified the sounds.
Cole found himself becoming dazed with the sensuousness of it all.
Rick and Cole pulled off Tod's white basketball sneakers.
"Oh, yes," Tod whispered.
Tod's white socks of cotton ruffled the smattering of dark hairs on Rick and Cole's forearms.
Roused with desire, Rick planted a kiss on one of Tod's white socks. Rick shucked the cotton off.
"Uh," Tod said. His juvenile voice sounded like the plastic wheels of a tricycle bowling over a rug.
Tod's calf felt like a ripe papaya.
Cole, however, held the calf as though it were a water pipe. The handyman started to get the lesson: Guys with ship shrouds and ratlines outlined across their abs had tender spots as well. Cole needn't hold Tod's calf that firmly.
Cole compared Tod's soft muscles with Tod's supple sole--that is, the one Rick had bared on the left. Something about this combination led Cole's heart to beat harder.
Cole zeroed his oval eyes on Tod's sockless sole. It was the hue of a batter of regular pancakes.
On his side, Cole peeled off Tod's remaining white sock of cotton. Suddenly, Cole pecked the underside of Tod's tootsie with a kiss.
Cole's act shocked him.
Rick, however, said, "There you go."
Tod's purr sounded like a coupé swooshing along a distant highway.
Never had Cole felt so gay. Intensifying that feeling was the smell of laundry detergent on Tod's sole. Similarly, the lower deck of the yacht exuded the scent of the inside of a new car. All of this contributed to the atmosphere of maleness.
Rick stomped to his white socks of cotton. "Let's bare faggy's waist."
Tod unbuttoned his pale blue jeans and unzipped their golden zipper.
Rick ordered, "Grab that side, Cole."
Cole stood up slowly. He pulled Tod's bleached jeans down on the right.
Rick pulled the bleached jeans down on the left.
Tod's blue jeans shook and sounded like a heavy blanket.
What Cole saw took moments to sink in. Tod was wearing pearl-white panties--not bikinis, but panties--silk and all! The panties had tiny ladybugs printed all over and sparkled as if suffused with moonlight from within. The sugary grains on the surface of the white panties reflected the yellow-white lights of the room.
Cole's cock was so hard that it bent from lack of room inside his corduroys. Cole had no choice. He unzipped his mahogany knee pants.
Rick peeked right. "I told you you'd get excited." Rick undid his black pants of polyester. In a guiding gesture, he extended his left palm toward Tod's underwear. "Do you want to help me with the honors?"
Cole glanced at the liquid silk of Tod's pearl-white panties. Cole was fast approaching fright of what would become of him if he touched them. Yet, part of Cole hankered to descend into abandon. Ready or not, Cole reached for the thin waistband.
The texture zapped Cole's fingers like the quills of a porcupine.
Cole shogged back like a lynx.
"Talk about chemistry," Rick said.
Cole's eyes danced over Tod's undies. They were so crisp-white. Cole couldn't get off his mind how awestruck he felt perceiving the sexiness of panties on a dude. How, Cole thought, could queer stuff incite a straight guy?
Pensively, Cole turned his eyes toward the scarlet curtain of the entrance door.
"Holy mackerel!" Rick said. "Look at Tod!"
Cole flashed his eyes back left.
Tod's hard-on was cast in relief under the pearl-white silk. His dick was the trunk of a super mushroom--its head, a pearl onion. As if that weren't enough, a wet stain dabbed the front of Tod's whities.
"What a fairy," Rick said, sputtering venomously on the f. "Let's rip off his panties!"
Cole watched.
Rick clawed the shiny fabric.
Shredding sounds ripped through the lower deck like a swarm of crows. Tod's seven-incher broke free, its prepuce raw chicken skin pulled back. Unabashedly, Tod sipped cider.
"Nuh-uh!" Rick said, snatching Tod's square glass. "You're going to put the real thing in your mouth."
Tod knelt on the Berber rug of yellow. Rick, in turn, set the square glass on the light-brown counter behind him.
"Get ready, Cole," Rick said. "Tod is going to suck our wieners."
Rick might as well have said, Tod is going to serve us coffee. How, Cole thought, could Rick be so smooth?
Rick jerked down his black pants of polyester and white briefs of cotton.
Cole glinted through the corner of an eye. Not since high school had he felt the urge to measure the size of another guy's prick.
Rick's member was big as a banana, and it dangled as such. Its pinkish foreskin had the wrinkles of a batter of corn bread piling up to a pour from above.
The similarity with Cole's cock was amazing. Bubbles sizzled inside Cole's testicles like the eyes of water warming up toward a boil.
Rick glowered at Tod. "You better lather our stiffies well, blondie."
The meanness of those words stuck to Cole like white glue from a spitting bottle. Cole felt so much concupiscence, however, that he hoicked down his mahogany shorts of corduroy and white briefs of cotton.
Rick shoved his dick into Tod's mouth.
Tod scarfed Rick's frankfurter as though it were laced with pickles, chopped onions, and ketchup.
"Holy fuck!" Rick said.
Tod tightened his wet lips along the base of Rick's penis.
"Look at the sissy!" Rick exclaimed. "He wants cock bad."
On the way to the top, Tod's lips slowed like the wagon car of a roller coaster. Then, Tod sped toward the base of Rick's frank.
"Uh, that feels good," Rick grunted. He gripped the hair wisps of ash-blond atop the "boy's haircut" of Tod.
Tod's upper body jounced like the blades of a washing machine on wash cycle.
To and fro, Rick pulled Tod's blondish hair.
With increasing loudness, Tod slurped Rick's hot dog.
Rick spoke in crescendo. "You like my sausage?"
Tod bobbed his noggin.
"Then, suck my willy like the pouf you are!"
Tod's slender torso kept swaying like a rocking chair.
In what seemed to be fast-rewind, Tod moved his face cave away from Rick's wiener.
"What the hell?" Rick said.
Tod's hazel irises matched the color of the trimmed edges of his dishwater-blond hair. Now, his eyes of gelatin looked at Rick with the innocence of a lad, and Tod begged for further instructions.
With his squarish chin, Rick signaled toward Cole.
Tod's large pupils dilated more. Tod inched toward Cole's erection and fisted a hand around its tawny foreskin.
Cole's prepuce rolled back like clay spinning on a potter's wheel. "Sheesh," Cole said.
Tod licked Cole's frenulum.
"No fuckin' way!" Cole groaned.
Along Cole's glans, Tod lapped the tip of his tongue up, down, and in circles.
"Fuckin' A," Cole said.
Tod sucked the head of Cole's cock as though it were a pom-pom. With each suck, Tod descended further down the peter.
"This is unreal!" Cole said huskily. As he recalled, his wife never let him bring home dirty magazines. What would Sheena say if she caught Tod and Cole in the middle of this?
Tod sucked Cole's wad roughly--in and out, up and down.
Cole jolted repeatedly--as if he were on a speeding train. "Jesus!"
Tod's head kept jerking back and forth.
Cole heaved, "If you keep this up, you're gonna ... suck out ... ma
sem--"
Tod withdrew fast as a falling house of cards.
"You're lucky you pulled out," Rick said. "Otherwise, you would've had
it for churning out Cole's jism prematurely."
Tod threw Rick a fierce stare.
Swift as an eagle, Tod sucked Cole's balls.
"No fuckin' way!" Cole said.
Tod bit around the base of Cole's sperm sack--not too hard, not too soft.
Cole had never experienced acupuncture of this sort. Not only that. A dude was needling Cole's pressure points--not a babe. Tod's expertise was legendary! How, Cole wondered, was this possible?
Tod's head almost pulverized in returning to Rick's dick.
Cole's chestnuts ached for more, and Cole felt a rush of anger.
Tod, however, was busy trailing his peach tongue around Rick's cream cock.
"That's right," Rick said. "Get me ready for the main course."
Get you ready? Cole grated upstairs. Is Rick that selfish? Suddenly, Cole felt guilt about what he wanted to try.
Rick reached down and slapped Tod's behind.
Tod mmmed.
Rick kneaded Tod's rumps. With his middle finger, Rick goosed the top of the grapnel lines that contoured Tod's nates.
Tod ahed as if taking a piss with a full bladder.
"You like being pried up your butt?" Rick said.
Tod nodded tipsily.
"Good," Rick said. "Because your rear end is due for a serious ramming." Rick dug his middle finger deeper into Tod's haunches.
So filled Tod became with letch that he jammed Rick and Cole's dicks into his mouth.
"Fuckin' nay!" Cole said.
"Fucking yay!" Rick countered. He straightened his back.
Tod tried to devour the V of cocks that converged in his mouth. At most, he got them halfway in. Tod hummed in rising pitches, desperate to swallow every jot of beef and vein. There was no question that had the cucumbers been flaccid, Tod would have been able to bunch the inside of his cheeks with much more of them.
Rick's prick rubbed warmly against the left side of Cole's dick. This added to the intensity of Tod's mouth.
Cole couldn't believe the sensuality of this.
Tod let Rick and Cole's peckers drop from his mouth.
Rick turned his sinewy body toward Cole. "Face me, Cole buddy."
Cole could scarcely keep tabs on the twists and turns of this game. "What?"
"I want to show you something," Rick said.
Cole rotated his wiry body left.
Rick moved his woody closer to Cole's. Rick clutched Cole's rager as though it were a cow tit and wrapped both dicks in his hand.
The feel of Rick's shaft pressing against Cole's was awesome!
With his fist, Rick started to pump the cocks.
"Unfuckin' believable!" Cole uttered.
Rick beat their meats harder.
Cole threw his oval eyes back.
The indented light of yellow-white on top, however, forced Cole to squint toward the portholes.
The portholes stared at Cole with the eyes of his mother, father, and elder brother--eyes dark, vengeful, and impatient.
Again, Cole shifted his line of vision.
The warmth and strength of Rick's fist was fast becoming too much to take. At one point, Cole almost tore himself away, for he thought that he was about to pull his groin. The feeling was simply too intense--not just physically, but also, psychologically.
Seminal fluid oozed from Rick's piss slit onto Cole's. The sticky substance mixed with Tod's leftover saliva and slicked Rick's hand.
"Man!" Cole said. He pulled off his white tank top of cotton.
Cole literally felt the black cross on the side of his left bicep.
Rick stopped jerking off the both of them. "Nice piece of art you got there."
"My big brother gave me this tattoo when I turned 17," Cole said.
Rick flipped back his open shirt of wine, and the executive shirt hit the Berber rug of yellow.
Cole's head kept spinning.
"I think it's time we put our cocks to maximum use," Rick said. He threw Tod a wicked side-glance.
A kneeling Tod looked up at Rick with the orbs of a bimbo.
Rick grouched, "Bend over, fruit."
Tod crouched over the front cushion of the beige davenport.
Rick turned to Cole's right and knelt behind Tod. "Let's see the inside of your hind tits," Rick said. He spread Tod's butt cheeks.
The curled pubes of Tod's derriere were caramel. The skin near his anus was rosy and shaped like the wings of a butterfly. This contrasted with the peach-hued flesh further out.
At once, Rick showered the inside of Tod's cleavage with kisses. Rick shifted between the inside of Tod's right buttock and the inside of Tod's left buttock. Each smooch sounded like Rick was chewing with his lips open.
This is playin' with matches, Cole told himself.
Rick buried his elegant nose into Tod's tush as deeply as he could. Rick quaked his head to stimulate the area and tongued an & around Tod's rosebud.
How, Cole wondered, could Rick not care about catching Tod's germs?
Dragging his tongue south to north, Rick ahed as if to a tongue depressor.
Tod twisted his dishy neck back, and he exhaled softly.
With his tongue, Rick poked the epicenter of Tod's anus.
"Take it easy!" Cole protested. "His ass is not a pussy."
Rick turned his bedroom eyes right. "You're right." He got up. "But nothing beats the taste of Tod's ass." Rick paced to the breakfront of shellacked wood. He yanked open a drawer, reached inside, and tossed Tod a round jar of blue.
Tod caught the plastic item, turned open its white lid, and scooped up a bit of lube. Then, Tod smeared some silver gel onto his puckered hole of pink.
Cole stepped back in fright, for the lusciousness of Tod's nates was too much to process.
Still, Cole couldn't stop eyeing the V of light-cream skin under Tod's peach-hued skin. What beach in the world would permit Tod to wear panties under the sun? Pensive with this mystery, Cole ogled the muscle balls of Tod's buns and the moistness of Tod's skin. Cole allowed his eyes to slink up, and he began to relish the curves of brawn on Tod's back.
Clearly, Cole was gayer than he thought. Why else would he be admiring the physique of a guy? The question alone brought Cole to the verge of panic.
Again, Rick knelt behind Tod. Heck, Rick didn't even remove his black pants and white briefs the rest of the way.
Something about the animality of this brought a familiar sensation to Cole's balls.
Rick fed his cock into Tod's butt crack. Rick pushed, slow as a dentist's hand inserting a mouth guard full of toothpaste into a patient's mouth.
Tod rolled his drunken eyes. Then, he lowered his squarish chin toward the front cushion of the beige davenport.
Rick's dick finished disappearing into the zipper of Tod's behind.
Watching this reminded Cole of a boyhood friend spreading tales of toothed vaginas to try to keep rival lads away from girls. With Tod's ass being a truly taboo place, Cole could only wonder if Tod had anything dangerous in there--other than what was to be normally expected.
Rick's rumps looked like yellow-white milk turned into sculpted cheese. Rick began to pump into Tod, and the muscle threads of Rick's duff flexed.
Cole's birdie started to throb.
Rick plowed Tod's chute harder.
Tod began to scrub himself underneath.
Rick heaved. "You like cock up your pooper?"
Tod turned his peach-hued face back and nodded in bobs of frenzy.
"You better because you have one hot set of hind boobs." Rick slapped Tod's right knocker!
Tod moaned.
"That's what you get for fucking my wife."
"She has one hot cunt," Tod said.
"She does?" Rick rumbled.
"Yeah," Tod said freshly.
"Is this how you fuck her on Friday nights?"
"Harder," Tod growled.
"How about now?"
"Harder!" Tod howled.
Rick pistoned harder than a pestle pounding a mortar.
Tod jolted as if to a bumping bus.
"Take my fucking cock!" Rick brayed.
Back forward, Tod turned his somewhat diamond face.
Through Tod's dishwater-blond hair, Rick zagged his fingers of light cream. "The luckiest kid in North Carolina--"
"Off North Carolina," Tod corrected.
Rick stopped shagging Tod's bottom. "What a brat!"
Rick resumed bucking his lean hips. He slithered his left hand up the oilskin of Tod's back and said, "See if you can take this." On this, Rick pulled Tod's blondish hair where it parted fuzzily on the right side of the front.
Tod moaned.
Rick kept Tod's dirty-blond hair bunched in his grip.
"Ah! Ah!" Tod ballyhooed.
"Na, na, na," Rick warned. "No complaining if you know what's good for you."
Tod whimpered.
Rick pulled Tod's hair more brusquely.
Thanks to Rick's grip, Tod's soft face now faced the white ceiling.
Tod whined, "Why don't you go pull Jennifer's hair?"
"So you want to be treated like a doll, huh?" Rick said.
"Fuck you!" Tod spat.
"What did you say?"
"I said, `Fuck you.'"
"You little rug rat," Rick answered. As if holding the reins of a horse, he kept his fingers clawed on the ash-blond wisps atop Tod. Rick bucked his pale hips so fast onto the ( of Tod's rumps that, for a moment, it seemed like Rick would vaporize.
Tod wailed.
"You still want to fuck me?" Rick said.
"I'd rather have your cock catch my germs," Tod said boldly. "That way, you can catch an infection, and I can get Jennifer pregnant."
"You incorrigible genius," Rick said, his bully tone fluctuating wildly. Rick loosened his grip on Tod's hair and slithered his left hand down the pinkish muscles of Tod's back. With his right hand, Rick buffeted Tod's heinie.
"Ugh!" Tom crackled ... and jerked forward as if taking a dump.
Cole began to stroke his huge dick downward.
"The luckiest kid in the South," Rick said, "with a sugar daddy to lend him his wife and home. And Toddy boy gets smart with me?"
Tod glinted back. "I'm not getting smart."
"No?" Rick cuffed Tod's butt.
Rump-to-head, Tod's body wavered like an ocean wave. Again, his delectable nose faced forward.
Slap!
"Stop!" Tod blubbered.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Even Tod's hair jittered--and the dirty-blond strands were cropped like wheat stalks sickled to the ground.
Cole let his grip slip off his hot dog. The scene before him was so expertly crafted that Cole began to wonder if Tod and Rick had planned this beforehand.
Tod's voice cracked. "I need punishment."
"I bet you do," Rick grizzled behind one of Tod's attached earlobes. "After all, you wouldn't be sneaking to my wife's bedroom if you had discipline." Whack on Tod's right butt!
"Yeah," Tod said. "Set me straight."
"And the fox telling me what to do, too," Rick said. Whack on Tod's left butt!
"Ouch!"
"You better not whine," Rick said. "Or else, I'll give you this."
"Aahhh!"
Cole almost came. Was gay sex this kinky?
Rick's brogue came out stronger than usual. "You have one serious behavior problem."
Again, Tod twisted his soft neck back. "No, I don't."
"A smart alec, too," Rick said. He spanked Tod so hard that the thrash sounded like a whip.
Tod's head shook left, and he grabbed one of the beige throw pillows.
Rick seized the buckskin thing. "No, you don't." He threw the pillow right. "You're not biting any part of this sofa. Want to get me into trouble with my boss?"
"Woof, yes!" Tod said. "Then, I can see you get a good nailing from him."
"You impudent piece of--" Smack! Smack! Smack!
Cole could barely hold it any longer.
The buckskin cushions of the davenport squashed fast. Rick's balls, in turn, slapped Tod good and hard--and sounded like horseshoes trotting down a leaf-covered walkway in the distance.
Thicker blobs of glue seeped up Cole's urethra.
"Uh!" Cole whiffed hornily.
Rick oinked the cry of a hog.
Tod panted like a Daschund.
"Fucking queer wanker," Rick said. "I can't believe I'm about to--" He threw his hooded eyes back, squinched them into the eyes of a hawk, and snarled like a wolf in a forest. Rick's shapely nates scrunched like soccer balls collapsing to an onslaught of fists.
Cole squeezed his bird eggs, desperate to relieve the tension there.
At last, Rick fell on the yellow rug.
Tod turned his almond eyes over his right shoulder. "Are you gonna fuck me or what?"
Cole racked his brain for an answer.
"Tell me quick `cause I'm close," Tod lipped.
Should Cole open the last third of this Pandora's box? Should he risk letting the genie out of the bottle? Cole's head told him, no! His sausage and chestnuts whooped, yes! "If I weren't so loaded, I might be able to resist this ... thing," Cole said. "But if I delay any more, I'm fuckin' gonna explode."
Back forward, Tod turned his supple face.
Cole slid his tawny feet off his black beach slippers. He knelt behind the sleeping bag of Tod's body and pressed his erection into Tod's cleft.
Rick's whey coated Cole's dick and squished through the line between dick and tunnel. Rick's semen was so warm, viscous, and daring.
Cole's mind almost reeled into a nosedive. How, he wondered, could reproduction get this warped? How could nature allow Cole to enjoy his cock in such a vulgar place?
Cole's stick fit in Tod's tube as perfectly as a lightbulb into a socket.
"Bro," Cole exhaled. "This feels incredible!"
Tod turned his sexy eyes back. His pupils were larger than ever. "You like my tush?"
"It's tighter than the handshake you gave me when we first met," Cole replied.
"I was real polite, wasn't I?" Tod said.
"You sure had me fooled." Cole began the in-out thing. "But tonight, you've shown your true colors."
"You haven't seen anything, yet," Tod said. He turned his horny eyes forward and started to hump his heinie's V of light cream under peach onto Cole's wiener.
"Fuckin' junior high!" Cole said.
The beige cushions let out muffled shushes.
Cole sped his thrusts.
"Alright!" Tod said. He pleasured himself underneath, and his butt cheeks jostled like pudding.
Cole slapped Tod's duff.
"Ahh!" Tod said.
Cole's Tennessee drawl started to really come out. "You think you can fool people."
"Don't know what you mean," Tod lilted.
"Sure you don't," Cole said. "Actin' straight out there and queer in here."
"Mmm-hmm! Mmm-hmm!"
Cole growled, "Is that how you attract straight cock into your butt?"
"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!"
"Then, take ma glue," Cole said. Slap on Tod's right rump! Slap on Tod's left rump!
"Harder!" Tod grunted.
"I'm fuckin' gonna spank your buns till they turn to tomatoes!" Slap! Slap! Slap!
"God!" Tod screamed.
"You're a doll," Cole said. "You know that?"
"How does that make you feel?" Tod talked back.
"Lak fuckin' your brains out," Cole gruffed.
"Then, do it!" Tod yelled.
"God, I will," Cole roared. "God, I will!"
Tod's rectum kept masturbating Cole's hot dog. The harder Cole fucked Tod, the harder Tod's bowels jerked off Cole.
"I see your ass has sucked all of Rick's spunk," Cole said. "Here, let me push his cream deeper into you." Thrust!
Tod shook. "Yeah! Give it to me."
"That way, you can have some extra nutrition," Cole drawled. Thrust!
"Deeper!" Tod said.
"Not deep enough?" Thrust!
"Deeper!" Tod said louder.
"You little piece of--" Thrust! Thrust! Thrust!
"Oh, yeah!" Tod said, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
Cole lost it! His dick sprayed one, two, four, eight times up Tod's ass.
Tod tightened and relaxed his anal ring--over and over and over.
Cole kept squirting and squirting and squirting.
Tod quaked as if to a tremor.
Finally, Cole collapsed on Tod.
IV
Cole brimmed with thirst under the noon sun. He picked up his redneck gait, if nothing else, to get to a drinking fountain.
The fiberglass structure neared Cole. On top, the two-story affair read, Bi Day, Bi Night in letters that mirrored the tinged-white clouds, deep-blue sky, and maize sun above Cole.
Cole fixed his black sunglasses and skimmed the parking lot. So many cars, jeeps, pickups, and SUVs! So many suns on their chrome surfaces.
What if Sheena spotted Cole's van there--let alone, him? Cole thought. Should he return to his pale-blue van and try to find a weekend assignment elsewhere?
Cole stepped under the green awning of the walkway and hurried into the place.
Two dark-haired men with crew cuts were holding the hands of a woman, and the woman was sandwiched between the guys.
Cole scowled in bafflement.
The men cast their IDs onto the granite counter, and their biceps rippled by their blue tank tops of spandex. The lady had orange leotards of nylon and waist-long curls of apricot.
How was this scene possible? Cole wondered. Weren't men supposed to fight over women?
The triad glided past the grayish counter, and Tod scanned the IDs.
Cole said, "I didn't know you work here."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," Tod replied in his sophomoric voice.
Cole narrowed his eyes on Tod's T-shirt.
The white-under-tint shirt read, Bi Day, Bi Night in the same letter font outside of the center. The letters were even the color of the partly cloudy skies that early afternoon.
Cole wanted to see things with his own eyes, but he dared not remove his black sunglasses. How, Cole wondered, could anyone be so open and at ease about being a pansy? Cole decided to brave it. "I see wha you `n Rick lured me into what we did last night."
"What did we do?" Tod said.
Cole playfully backhanded Tod's forearm.
Tod flashed a saucy grin at the waxed mega-tiles of the white floor--and revealed his white incisors of china.
Cole returned to Tod's rhetorical question. "You wanted me not to react to that threesome that just passed us, so you trained me on the boat."
"You need Rick's assignment," Tod crinkled with his Piedmont cadence. "You might as well become comfortable with these surroundings. By the way, you don't have to hide your eyes. I hate it when guys do that."
"I'm not where you're at," Cole said. "Far from it."
"Your wife is in Kentucky," Tod said, somewhat raising his soft-spoken voice. "I'm sure you can relax your guard here. Besides, Sheena ought to understand your need to make a living."
"Most wives don't give their husbands a lot of choices," Cole piped. "If you had any experience in the real world, you'd know that."
Tod lowered his almond eyes, raised them slowly toward Cole, and spoke with calculation. "I feel your anger."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Tod went on, "Anger at being forced to deny yourself for so long."
"Shut up," Cole warned.
"I think you resent your wife for that," Tod said glibly.
"Are you deaf?"
"Rick and I can help you loosen up some more," Tod said.
Cole glimpsed the empty environs immediately around him and returned to Tod. "Is this your way of manipulatin' men into fuckin' you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I bet," Cole said.
Sounds of dropping weights, whirling machines, and pounding sneakers washed over Tod and Cole like autumn leaves.
Tod whispered, "Rick has another place lined up for us."
"Now, you're really not gonna see me take off these sunglasses," Cole said.
"You and I got more in common in bed than you realize," Tod said.
"What are you gettin' at?" Cole barked.
"For a man who never gets a rest from being in charge, you ought to know what I mean."
How could an 18-year-old know so much about the inner workings of a 30-year-old man? Cole thought. Tod was right--so right--but Cole couldn't admit it to himself.
Tod lilted, "You're certified to repair electronic equipment, right?"
"Of course!" Cole snapped.
Tod picked up a shiny, black receiver, gargled some nonsense into it, and hung up. "Wait in the lobby--and I advise you to take off those sunglasses if you want Rick's boss to hire you."
Reluctantly, Cole bid Tod a nod. Slowly, Cole turned to the white futon of a settee. He thought, How well Tod walks that tightrope between loose and professional.
Tod hollered, "Don't forget about Friday night."
The words hit Cole like lemon drops an eye. If only Cole could talk to Rick about "getting a rest from being in charge."
V
The log cabin straggled off into the woods. Were it not for the leafy beeches, hemlocks, and hickories, Cole might have seen the other cabins. At least, the waning gibbous moon illuminated the trail of leaves up the foot of the mountain. The leaves crunched under Cole's brown brogans. Sleek and shoulder-long, Cole's sandy-brown hair undulated in the cool breeze.
This was the type of getaway that, three years ago, Cole had arranged for his wife. Man, Cole recalled, was Sheena ecstatic at our honeymoon. Now, Cole found himself at the other side of the coin, and part of him quivered at the implications. Had Tod come along, Cole wouldn't have felt as jittery. But Rick insisted that Tod "didn't take charge in bed, except to fuck the occasional girl." Beyond that, Rick wouldn't say.
The porch steps of wood rapped to Rick's black hiking boots and to Cole's brown brogans. Rick pushed the panel door of hickory, and it creaked open.
Cole strolled past the silver threshold.
Rick ankled into the log cabin and closed the wooden door.
The door squeaked a low oh and clicked shut. Like a mouthful of fizzing soda, a scent of wood shavings prickled Cole's narrow nostrils.
"Let me guess," Cole said. "Your boss's cabin."
"Nah," Rick said, "although Henry is about to buy one." Rick slid the door latch of metal.
The ping tickled the insides of Cole's ears. Seldom, Cole thought, had he been so sensitive to stimuli. This made Cole feel less manly than usual. Worse, Cole began to relish the feelings that this engendered in him.
Rick clacked past Cole and left the smell of woodruff in his wake.
Cole scratched the tip of his straight nose and lowered his swarthy fingers.
"This is leased," Rick said. He stopped by the skin-of-tiger print of a loveseat and spun toward Cole.
Cole drawled, "What we're about to do is highly illegal."
"That's why bis and polys are challenging the law books in court," Rick replied.
"Polys?"
"People who believe in the freedom to have sexually expressed relationships with more than one person at a time," Rick said. "They're going to court so that people like us don't have to do it like this."
"Do what?"
"Do what your heart aches to do," Rick said.
Was that an answer or a command? Cole wondered.
Rick continued, "I saw your expression in the boat."
Cole contorted his oval face in self-disgust. "What expression?"
"When you were fucking Tod," Rick said. "You couldn't believe his enjoyment at being stuffed like a wild turkey."
"I thought you had dozed off--after that wrenchin' orgasm you had."
Rick kept at it in that rolling voice of his. "Your eyes said how much you wanted to know how Tod felt."
Cole didn't like the sound of that. Yet, he itched for more of those words.
Rick sauntered toward Cole and halted a foot from him.
At six feet, Cole angled his eyes toward the slightly shorter Rick.
"Tonight," Rick began, "I'm going to make you find out how Tod felt."
Dipping his forehead, Cole tipped his eyes at Rick and arched his khaki eyebrows.
"Don't look at me that way," Rick said. "Why don't you just admit it?"
"What," Cole stated.
"You know what I'm referring to," Rick said.
Cole's willy hardened at the prospect. But to concede that he wanted to take a break from his role at home was too much--especially, for a masculine guy with rugged good looks.
Rick's baby blues didn't let up on Cole's irises of honey-brown. The lamps of the room glistened on Rick's cornea as if they were the balls of a Christmas tree. In Rick's eyes, lust and passion stirred like corn and peas in a roiling boil of soup.
Cole's heart jiggled like a fighter plane struck by enemy fire. In a jiff, Cole's blood flew through him as if it were cold water streaming down his esophagus.
Rick's lax lips inched closer to Cole's tense lips.
"Don't," Cole heaved.
Rick stopped with a jolt. "Say it, then," he whispered.
Cole's nut sack blushed, and his penis pulsated as though it were a swollen thumb. "I confess!" Cole shouted. "I wanna suck dick, and I wanna get fucked!"
Rick continued to rock Cole with his eyes of fury.
Suddenly, they kissed--roughly, breathlessly, and inventively. Each set of lips sipped sloppily from the other set of lips. Cole moaned like a piglet starving for milk. And Rick groaned hungrily under his breath. The more they sucked each other's lips, the more famished and parched they got.
Rick undid the white buttons of his burgundy shirt, the one with short sleeves.
Cole pulled up his horizontally striped polo shirt of black and green.
The men unglued their lips, ripped their shirts off, and slapped their palms onto each other's backs.
The clothes whumped onto the wooden boards of the polished floor like chunks of snow fallen off two spruce pines.
Rick and Cole pressed their hard pecs together; the guys flickered their tongues; and their tongues fenced as if combatants at a sports championship. The guys' hard-ons rubbed together through Rick's black pants and through Cole's mahogany corduroys.
Cole got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was crossing a bridge of no return. Sure, Cole had fucked Tod. But getting fucked was another matter.
Rick hoicked himself away from Cole, picked him up, and carried him to the bright bedroom. There, Rick dropped Cole onto the king-size bed.
The mattress uhed as though it were a chap and someone had punched him in the belly.
Rick unhooked his black belt of leather and undid his black pants of cotton.
Cole rolled to the other side of the bed. There, he unfurled the bed quilt of argyle patterns of white and gray.
Rick yanked one of Cole's boots up. Rick untied the brown brogan and pulled it off.
Cole's pulse charged.
Rick shucked off Cole's russet sock of cotton.
Cole felt a tuft of air on his foot.
And Rick warmed Cole's sole with an open-mouthed kiss.
Never had Cole's wife worshipped him like this--and it undermined Cole's faith in his marriage.
Rick let Cole's foot go and jerked up the other leg.
Cole allowed himself to enjoy the baring of his other foot, the touch of Rick's lips on it, and the humid chuffs down there. Not since adolescence had Cole felt so loved--and back then, it was girls who appreciated him. By contrast, Cole's father and older brother hated his guts.
Rick released Cole's foot. Toward Cole's four-pack, Rick brought the heel of one of his black hiking boots. He waited with a bold look in his eyes.
Cole untied Rick's black shoelaces, hauled off Rick's black brogan, and peeled off Rick's white sock of cotton. Cole kissed the foot on different spots, inhaled the oniony flesh, and slithered his lips up the shin.
"That's right," Rick said. "Get excited."
Rick's pubes were bushy, moist, and dark. They reminded Cole of the corporal similarities between Rick and him. Sure, Rick had light-cream skin and Cole a wheat-colored complexion--and Rick coffee bean brown hair to mismatch Cole's sandy-brown hair. Still, their chiseled pecs, sculpted abs, and hard arms and legs accentuated the fact that Cole was about to copulate with someone like himself.
Rick said, "Are you ready to lather my wiener?"
Cole hoised his eyes from Rick's dark pubes to Rick's hooded eyes.
Rick stared at Cole with the rage of a windstorm.
At once, Cole sat up on the king-size bed. He yanked down Rick's black pants of cotton and white briefs of cotton. Then, Cole scarfed down Rick's cock.
It felt like ham and tasted milder than corn. Rick's pubic curls, however, smelled like scallions on a muggy day.
Cole found the smell of Rick's pubes unromantic, yet, electrifying. Cole sucked Rick's dong harder and quicker, determined to get physical with this man.
Rick grabbed the strings of Cole's hair and pulled them fore and aft.
Cole moaned under his breath.
"You like cock, don't you," Rick said.
"Mmm-hmm."
"Then, suck like a fag!" Rick spittled.
Cole smacked Rick's butt for that.
Rick stepped back, and his wad slipped out of Cole's mouth.
Cole looked up.
Rick spoke in a stern tone. "Turn around."
Cole flipped onto his washboard abs, raised his head and neck, and took the contour of a seal facing Rick.
Rick reached forward and buffeted Cole's rump.
"Ugh!"
"Tonight, you're the one who will have to take it like a man," Rick said. He kneaded Cole's nates as if they were pizza dough. "Now, suck my dick."
Cole swallowed it again.
"Not bad for a straight redneck," Rick said.
Cole spat out Rick's cock. With his tongue, Cole flicked its pinkish foreskin.
Rick shhed ... and sputtered onto Cole's stubble of bronze.
Cole sucked Rick's balls for that.
"Fucking horndog!" Rick bawled. He pulled the muddy cascade that fell thinly off the four corners of Cole's head. At one spot, Rick tugged Cole's hair back and forth, to and fro.
Inside his mouth, Cole licked Rick's nut hairs.
Rick rotated his hips slowly.
Cole spat out Rick's walnuts and dove back onto Rick's zucchini. Abruptly, Cole scraped something with his teeth.
"Ouch!" Rick said.
"Sorry, man."
"I'm going to make you pay for that," Rick gruffed. "Get on those sheets."
Cole dragged his lean body toward the center of the bed. On the crisp-white sheets of silk, Cole lay his swarthy back.
Rick pushed down his black pants and white briefs the rest of the way. He untied his other black boot, kicked it off, and pulled off his remaining white sock.
Cole's dick pressed against the crotch of his mahogany knee pants.
The white bedsheets shimmered under the globe of white-yellow light above the bed.
Rick knelt on the white sheets of silk.
Cole unbuttoned his brown shorts and unzipped their silver zipper.
Rick shook Cole's mahogany corduroys off and Cole's white briefs of cotton. Rick stooped toward the multi-lit slats of the bamboo floor. He pulled up a silver strip of gel from one of his pant pockets. And he said, "You can thank me for bringing this. Otherwise, your ass would really undergo torture."
"I thought those lubricants were just for the face," Cole said.
"Just like you thought asses were just for shitting." Rick tore the silver strip with his incisors, squeezed some white onto his palm, and smeared the ointment onto Cole's hairy opening.
Cole quivered to the cold of the jelly. But he raised his wheat-colored legs.
Slowly, Rick pushed his index finger into Cole's gaping hole.
Cole grit his teeth.
Rick jammed his middle finger under his forefinger and slunk it past.
"I feel lak I'm gonna shit," Cole said.
"You'll get used to it," Rick said. He applied some white to his hot dog, tossed the silver strip of jello onto the wooden night table, and knelt on the white sheets of silk.
Never had Cole felt so vulnerable.
Rick's prick started to pry Cole's hole down under.
Cole grimaced in pain.
Rick kept pressing in.
And Cole allowed his narrow heels to land on Rick's defined shoulders.
Rick caressed the hairlets of caramel on Cole's quadriceps. "I'm going to show you what you make your wife go through."
"Be fuckin' careful!" Cole said.
"Don't you trust me?"
The mocking undertones in Rick's voice and on his face made Cole nervous. Yet, Cole reveled at the prospect of not being in charge in bed. Similar to his attitude toward family and job responsibilities, Cole's mindset was that he needed a break from his usual role in the bedroom.
Rick's frankfurter stretched Cole's innards to the limit.
A battering ram, Cole concluded, would have been less agony. Cole felt as if he were going through a rite of initiation to test his strength of character. Could Cole, however, endure this to the end?
Rick's dong began to saw into Cole's waste hole.
"Holy Jesus!" Cole growled into the slanted ceiling of wood.
Rick's cock of pale pink was massaging something inside Cole.
Cole panicked. But the sensation in Cole's gut overtook his terror, and his chestnut-brown dick started to rise.
Rick said, "How's that prostate massage?"
That clarified everything.
For once, Cole let his eyelids drop, and he allowed himself to swim in this lake of ecstasy.
Rick pistoned harder into Cole.
Cole pinched his eyes shut.
Rick said, "This is how real fucking is done."
Cole opened his eyelids.
Rick's eyes hooked into Cole's orbs like wooden pegs on a wall to panhandle eyelets.
For Cole, the reality that he could arouse a man to this extent was almost too much to handle.
Rick kept staring into Cole.
You're dravin' me bonkers! Cole replied with his eyes. This was too intense for Cole, as men didn't stare into each other for so long. Only couples did that. Yet, this was precisely what made the experience so magnificent.
Rick grumped, "So you like getting crammed like a wild duck?"
"God, yes!" Cole said. "Plow ma bowels."
"You got it, prima donna!" With that, Rick pumped harder, deeper, and faster.
The hinges of the bed mewed like sea gulls, and the mattress shook as if to an earthquake.
Cole's vision blurred. "Oh, Rick, Rick, Rick!"
Rick slowed down, tightened his grip on Cole's calves, and lowered his chest.
Cole raised his oval face. Toward him, Cole yanked Rick's clipped, dark hair where its front-combed section on top met its combed-up strands in front.
The two men kissed violently, panted into each other's mouths, and twisted their heads. This was insane!
Rick tore his lips away. "You liked that, didn't you?"
Cole pecked Rick's lips with a kiss.
Rick pecked him back.
Again, the two smooched in a round of meltdown. They moaned, chuntered, and groaned under their breaths.
As usual, Rick pulled his lips away. "You kiss better than Jennifer," he said, "and you have one hot ass."
Cole's testicles swelled painfully. "You lak ma shitter?"
Rick sped his thrusts into it.
Cole nattered some hooey in a quasi-orgasm.
"Does that answer your question?" Rick said.
Cole grunted. He snatched his nuts and jigged them up and down. They might as well have been spare change.
The slapping of Rick's balls onto Cole's butt sounded as if someone were clapping slowly up the mountain behind the log cabin.
Cole bellowed, "Fuck ma ass!"
"Yeah?" Rick said.
"Yeah!" Cole said louder.
Rick halted, then resumed his rhythm.
"Fuckin' A!" Cole said. He stopped rubbing his crab apples and started to shake his hose from the base.
"I see you're turning into a grand faggot," Rick said. "You want my sperm?"
"Shoot it in!!" Cole begged.
Rick jolted the bed faster.
"Holy fuckin' shit!" Cole yelled.
Rick's cannon kept banging Cole's prostate.
Cole gasped like a runner about to collapse after a marathon.
Rick growled like a dingo.
And Cole yawped, "My dick and ass are in flames!" Cole shook his snake from the base at 60 miles an hour.
Cole's glue hit the wooden headboard. Again, Cole shot three feet into the air. He spewed two ... four ... eight ... ten more times ... and felt Rick contract his cock and balls.
Rick threw his light-cream forehead back. "Fuck!"
Again, Rick's warm lekvar shot into Cole's intestines--and again ... and again ... and again.
At least, Rick fell on Cole.
Rick and Cole's sweat and cum produced a smell resembling lecithin. The white orchids in the corner and the scented sheets, however, neutralized the body odors of the balmy room. A musky aroma was the result.
Rick's head rested on Cole's chest. "No matter how many times I fuck," Rick began, "I never fail to be amazed by the thrill of it."
"What about gettin' fucked?" Cole drawled.
"Tod doesn't top me, so I get less of that," Rick said.
"I thought Tod fucked guys sometimes."
"He fucks girls," Rick said. "When Tod is with guys, however, he prefers to get fucked. I guess Tod views gay sex as a break from his role with chicks."
"Then, wait till I fuck you next time," Cole said.
"That's one thing I can hardly wait for," Rick said.
Cole enjoyed the vibrations of Rick's vocal cords on his chest. But Cole worried about his wife. If Sheena found out about Cole's sexcapades, his life was over.
Rick must have sensed Cole's discomfort, for Rick shhed like a man trying to calm his boy. "Your family doesn't have to find out about this," Rick said. "Jennifer and Tod are more discreet than you could ever imagine."
Cole was skeptical.
"They know what being discovered means," Rick elaborated. "Trust me! Your homosexuality is safe in our hands."
"I hope so," Cole muttered.