Part twenty-one: Cousins
There was just time for one more day of the festive season at the Lampard household. The multi-million west London townhouse was still strung up with chintzy decorations, and the house was warm with family celebration. In his first Christmas period in the big new job, Frank had hardly been able to relax over the real events of the season, and now, a few days into the New Year, he was finally letting himself enjoy life and ease his intense focus on Chelsea's fortunes.
He padded through the ground floor of the townhouse, enjoying the loud fun of the extended family bumbling about the house, an open beer in one hand and a tray of party food in the other. He was just delivering this to some of the family and friends gathered in the rear lounge when he heard the chiming of their doorbell down the long hallway. He deposited the snacks and beer on a coffee table, tuning out of the conversation of his wife's family on the couch, and heading hopefully down the passage towards the front door. There was only one guest he could think of currently missing, and here he was, out on the doorstep, a stack of gifts in hand and a big grin on his lean, tanned face.
About time, cuz!' Frank said instantly, matching the warm grin at the sight of his cousin and close pal. Come on in, Jamie, mate...'
Jamie Redknapp swept in willingly, thrusting the stack of boxed gifts into Frank's hands and pushing the door to behind him. Long time no see, Franko, long time no see!' he exclaimed happily. Now where are you hiding the beers?' He slapped a hand to Frank's arm and almost knocked the fragile presents flying. `Oops.'
Frank laughed, leaned over a bit and discarded them onto a unit down the wall, then turned back to his cousin and grabbed him in a welcoming hug, squeezing him through his smart blue overcoat. The pair really hadn't caught up much in ages, he realised, and it was fucking good to see him. He realised his hug was a tad over-keen and pulled back, still grinning. `Beer, you say? Yep, let's get you sorted, before you play Father Christmas with this pile.'
He steered Jamie down the hall and aside into the empty kitchen, rather than straight to the family fun. Reaching into the fridge for a few more cans, he turned to watch Redknapp slide out of his coat, and clocked his outfit – he was also a tiny bit self-conscious around trendy Jamie, his older, better-looking cousin, a habit developed in much more insecure teenage years. It didn't matter that his football career had long ago made him the golden boy outshining old Jamie, there was a dynamic between them that went back far too long.
Nice shirt,' he remarked, noting the tight-fitting dark shirt clinging to his leaner cousin's torso, and the tight-fitting chequered trousers below, feeling that his own jumper and dark jeans were all a bit dad chic'.
Oh, yeh, just an old thing,' Jamie said dismissively, adjusting his collar and waist a little, straightening up, and joining him at the fridge to take a cold one. How have you fucking been, Lamps mate? We missed you on Christmas Day on the south coast.'
Well I missed you all too,' Frank said quickly, I was just busy being a legendary manager, you know?' He allowed himself a moment's smug grin, then grabber the bottle opener to crack open both beers. `A busy fucking time, leading Chelsea through the Christmas games, trust me!'
`Can only imagine,' Jamie said with what sounded like a mix of empathy and envy. Frank hoped it was envy, anyway: the empathy was appreciated, but it was hard not to find it occasionally patronising.
`And how was your Florida trip, cuz? You look well.'
Ah, you know, good times with the boys, but...' There was a momentary wistful sadness in Jamie's eyes, and Frank patted his arm sensitively, but the moment was swiftly gone, and the cheeky chappy grin returned. Good to be back in Blighty, and bachelor life ready to roll for another year... Playtime.' He winked.
`Less of that, there's kids about!' Frank chortled, but with a thrill of curiosity to hear what the born-again playboy had been up to of late. A moment's guilty thought: was that as shameful as his own behaviour a couple of weeks back? What the fuck had that been about...
Don't worry, uncle mode unlocked!' Jamie sniggered at him, clinking bottle to bottle. Speaking of which, let's fetch those pressies, get this party going...'
Frank Lampard enjoyed the rest of the evening, though playing host soon got a bit old – this was meant to be his time to chill for a bit before the season trundled on, but he seemed to spent much of the night topping up drinks, dealing with mess, running whatever errands his wife Christine sporadically decided on, and all with a goodwill smile. He ended up barely catching Jamie, as a result, only the occasional shared smile or brief meeting of eyes across the busy ground floor rooms. When things began to dwindle, and the first taxis were ordered, he was struck by a pang of regret that their catch-up seemed unlikely to happen. It had been too long.
He was distracted from this by the duties of organising how certain relatives were getting home, and then making sure the family who were staying over in their guest rooms knew where they were staying. And so on and so on. He eventually took a moment to clear his head back in the kitchen, pouring himself a tumbler of iced water, and blinking at his slow but steadily ageing features reflected in the patio windows. 41, with a newish wife and young kids, and exhausted by the beginnings of a whole second career in management. Definitely time for a midlife crisis!
`Hiding?' chirped Jamie's voice from the kitchen door.
`Oh, hah... hey there. Just a bit. You off?'
Jamie shrugged, and made his way to the fridge with the ease of a resident rather than a guest, and pulled out the last two beers from the Lampards' depleted stash. `Oh, maybe,' he said vaguely, waving one in a gesture of offer.
Frank nodded, and slid the bottle opener down the counter to his cousin. `Not in a rush? Well, you're welcome to hang on. I'd say stay, but it would have to be a sofa...'
`I'm sure I can grab a taxi, but – I wouldn't say no to a nightcap. It's not like we've got to chat, is it?'
No,' Frank agreed, pleased he wasn't the only one thinking it. That would be great.' A less certain pause, remembering who wore the trousers in his marriage. `I'll just square it with the missus.' Jamie made the sneering chuckle of the divorced, and Frank flashed an apologetic grin.
`Whip, crack,' Redknapp sniggered through a sip of beer.
`Yeah, yeah... But hang on. I've got some great scotch in my study, actually, a gift from your dad. Why don't you head up there and I'll join you for a drink in a minute when I'm sorted down here, eh?'
Jamie nodded his enthusiasm for the plan and drifted off, beer in hand. Frank watched him go thoughtfully, again admiring his well-fitted style, then bracing himself for the last bit of hosting duty, and an inevitable whinge from his wife over suggesting a last drink with Redknapp. It went exactly as expected... Oh, darling...' But I'm so tired now...' Well, you only let him have ONE, and then...' There was even some bullshit about wanting to get into bed with him, though she'd been as frigid as the frost outside since giving birth last year, and the period of understandable abstinence was really starting to grate on Frank's appetites now. But he squared it with her, and ushered off the last few people waiting for a car, and locked up for the night. ONE drink,' Christine told him warningly, before a kiss and disappearing off to the master bedroom.
Making his way to the spare room at the front of first floor, he found Jamie looking incredibly comfortable in one of the big armchairs, socked feet up on the largely unused desk, a top button undone on his shirt. He saluted Lampard on the way in, and gestured to the two tumblers out on the desk. Frank grinned, closed the door quietly, and went over to fetch his latest whiskey acquisition from the shelf by the windows.
`Does it hurt under that thumb?'
`Oh, shut up, and give us yer glass.'
`I'm just teasing, you know that. I'm hardly one to be giving out marriage advice, am I?'
Frank just gave a tight-lipped smile at this and sloshed out two heavy measures. One drink, as the wife said, but she didn't specify a measure. He passed one to his cousin, and sat on the edge of the desk, and the scene of it all brought a jarring memory back to him as he took his sip. His attempt to discipline Ross Barkley had just slipped out of his control somehow, and he was still trying to process it at the back of his mind. He'd been unable to face the brutish midfielder since, keeping him on the bench and out of main training session since looking at him was far too embarrassing. He realised then that Jamie had been talking, and not a word had reached him.
`Hmm?'
Wow, tiring night of being Mr Nice Guy?' joked Jamie from his comfortable sprawled position. A little more seriously, What is it, cuz? You can always tell old Jamie, hah.' A slightly concerned grin lit the 46-year-old pundit's handsome features, and Frank slid into the other chair, opposite.
Nothing, nothing,' he said dismissively, just a bit spaced out. Had a good few beers, can't handle it any more at our age, hah, and barely touched the stuff in weeks... Too much pressure at the team. Always.'
You're handling it well,' Jamie assured him seriously. We're all so fucking proud of you.'
Frank smiled and opened up a bit. Lubricated by drink and the warmth of the office, he got a few things off his chest, explaining various bits of club politics and behind-the-scenes nonsense involved in the challenging last few games, especially his clash with his old mentor Mourinho at the Spurs game. It felt good, chatting it through, with someone who knew him as well as this, and who was safely outside the mad inner workings of the league. Sure, Jamie was still a commentator and pundit, but he was fiercely loyal to family, and Frank knew nothing he said would slip out the wider media. Redknapp was steadfastly on his side in everything he had to share.
There was one weird thing I heard about your lads,' Jamie said suddenly, after a contented pause between the two. He stared at his now empty tumbler, and Frank toyed with the idea of ignoring his wife and pouring them both a second drink. I heard a right funny rumour about your Barkley,' Jamie said slowly.
Aha, that was it. Second drink definitely needed. Frank got up to fetch the bottle as a way of hiding his startled expression at the name. He just made an uncertain noise as he turned back with it in hand, and looked to Jamie's curious half-smile. `And what was that?' he asked with a terrible pretence of ignorance, and Jamie let out a tipsy giggle at his shit lying.
You know what I'm gonna say, don't you?' Redknapp quipped. Well, there must be SOME truth in it, then. I had thought it was just pressroom bullshit, but I heard from a couple of different people, and...'
There were pictures, yep.' Frank sloshed out two more heavy measurements into their glasses, screwed the lid back on, and backed off to return the bottle to its crowded shelf, and staring out of the windows at the festive decorations of their Kensington street. But we made them go away, of course.'
I'll bet you did,' Jamie laughed, shifting about in his armchair, and taking a grateful sip of his reloaded whiskey tumbler. Bloody hell – that must have been funny. Ross Barkley of all of them, eh? Always the quiet ones.'
Let's not talk about it,' Frank said from the window, it was a right fuss, and it got a lot of the powers that be really shitted up... I'm sure I still haven't heard the last of it...'
`How much does it cost, shutting up a sleazy newspaper over something like that?' Jamie demanded playfully, twisting in his seat to watch his tensed up cousin, who turned and gave him a really shifty look.
Frank just let out an irritable grunt. `More than either of our salaries, I think. Ridiculous. Just because one of my fucking players couldn't keep it in his pants – there was none of this sexting bollocks in our day, eh?'
Our day,' Jamie chuckled. Some of us are back out playing the field, Franko. And loving it.'
Hmmph. Yes. I forget. Lucky you.' He was loose lipped with drink. And some of us are getting the cold shoulder every night when all we need is a bit of conjugal comfort!'
Jamie just laughed, as Frank rejoined him in the comfortable leather seats, but he returned to the taboo subject. Still, would be fucking funny to see those pics, I think,' he said speculatively. I don't suppose you got a peek yourself, though?'
Frank lifted his eyebrows in surprise at this reaction. That was hardly the first thing that went through my mind!' he said distractedly, but it seemed necessary to point out some truth here. I did though, actually, now you mention it... I wasn't laughing though, the bloody headaches it gave me with the chairmen and his lot...'
Oh you did?' Redknapp said with almost a cackle, so that Frank had to remind him the other rooms up here were all occupied and his wife and several family guests were only recently to bed. Jamie giggled and shushed and nodded his compliance. God, you actually had to look over that yob's dick pics? That is so funny...'
`I guess it is, a bit...'
`Were they something really dirty and kinky?' There was an odd glint to Jamie's eyes as he asked this, an unmistakable thirst for scandal in his eager tone. He was drumming his fingers on the arms of his leather chair and leaning in a bit for Frank's answer, in a way that made him shift and fidget on his own seat before putting an answer together.
God no,' he assured his cousin, not at all kinky, just... Well. Explicit. It was...' He glanced over to the desk, and again more truth spilled out than he really intended in this late-night chat. `Well, don't fucking cackle like that again, but... I actually have them in that drawer.' As soon as it was out loud, he both regretted admitting it and felt fresh anger at himself for this reality: why the fuck hadn't he just burnt or shredded them as planned? As PROMISED, in fact, to the quivering apologetic lump of muscle that had been sat opposite him in his office that day?
You what?' Jamie burst out, again a little too loudly. Seriously?'
Frank blanched a little and considered backtracking or a desperate subject change, but his older cousin was already up and out of his chair. He began moving himself to stop him but what was he going to do, rugby tackle the smug prick through the windows and out onto the street in some sort of Tom Cruise action sequence? No, he'd brought this sordid embarrassment on himself here, but fortunately Jamie was not asking the obvious question (Why the fuck were the pictures in here at all?) but bizarrely enthralled by the fact, and wrenching the drawer open and tugging out the envelope.
`I'm taking a look,' Jamie hissed secretively over the desk at him.
Oh, mate,' Frank pleaded, can you just-`
`This is TOO funny,' Redknapp continued, sliding open the envelope and tugging out the wad of printed photographs with a giggle. Frank, rising from his chair, stood frozen to the spot watching as the other guy flicked through the fistful of printouts with an intense expression. How could he really criticise or laugh at Jamie's response to this when he'd done what he had? For a good two minutes, Jamie pawed through the offending articles, then slid them back into the envelope with a suppressed burst of amusement.
`I really need to just get rid of them,' Frank said a bit vacantly.
Oh no, far too entertaining for that,' Jamie giggled at him, dropping the envelope to the desk and clapping his hands together merrily. Come on, Franko, don't look so fucking serious over it, it IS hilarious.' Frank became conscious of his overly grim expression, but knew Jamie would put it down to only professional irritation, and sank back into his chair. God, could the matter of these stupid photographs just fuck off now, and... `God he's got a big nob, that lad,' came his cousin's appraisal, flopping down into the seat opposite with another laugh.
`What? Oh – well, yeah, I guess, but...'
You guess?' Jamie said. Bloody massive, or just good lighting, hah. I bet he gets all the pussy.'
Frank, tensing up again, more seriously, `I believe he has a serious girlfriend, and...'
Oh come on, footballers is footballers,' Jamie stated firmly. You remember the good old days before you got hitched the first time, never mind your new missus. Why do women go quite so wild for us, eh? I mean, good looking blokes we are, it's just something about the status, or is it the shorts, hah, I always wondered...'
Frank sighed and tried to relax a bit, feeling the topic shifting from the envelope on his desk to his cousin's own life, and felt a sting of envy at the exploits he often got to hear of: Jamie shagging his way around London's hot young things, by the sound of it. In the past he'd found this more enthralling, a good bit of laddish banter between them that made him feel younger again, but after a year or so it was wearing thin, and now he was getting agitated. A big part of him wanted to tug those photos out himself and have a good look over for the first time since stashing them here after that frenzied morning meeting. Another part of him wanted to unburden himself more: was Jamie the only mate who might just understand how carried away he'd gotten?
Anyway,' Jamie murmured on, bet Ross gets his pick of the clunge. Like you did, when you were free and single, Frank.'
Frank just scoffed at this. It wasn't totally untrue, but he'd never been half as confident or sex-mad as his cousin, he'd been in awe of Jamie's appetite and behaviour since they were just teenagers, since he'd had to share bunk beds with him on holiday and listen to an 18-year-old Redknapp loudly pleasuring himself in the night. He looked at him now, the age difference seeming so meaningless in their 40s, but still a bit in awe of the other man's reputation and self-professed exploits. No wonder he was so amused and unfazed by the photographs that had left Frank so flustered!
Maybe,' Frank mumbled vaguely, and took a good gulp from his glass. He's got a really good arse, too, doesn't he? In the pictures, I mean.'
Jamie started at this daring comment but chuckled and gave a simultaneous nod and shrug. I suppose you're right,' he said, you could easily mistake those pics for-`
For some hot Latina girl or something, yeah,' Frank said, a bit too quickly. Right? Haha. So funny, that.' He stumbled to a pause, took another long sip.
Alright, calm down, Lamps,' Jamie said, but not harshly. Don't get me too excited.'
I just mean – you could look at it and get confused, couldn't you?' Frank said clumsily. That's all I'm saying, hah. You're the one getting all hot and bothered about the size of his... his...' The right slang word escaped him and he just let out a nervous, defensive laugh. `I really should NOT have let you see those pics, I'm probably breaking about fifteen fucking legal injunctions!'
Yeah but what's a few dick pics between family,' Redknapp sniggered at him, kicking him playfully in the shin with a socked foot and reclining back more in his own chair. Oh, yeah, before you say it, and a few arse shots! You perv. Didn't know you were such an arse man.'
Frank coloured in the cheeks a bit but tried to return his cousin's bawdy humour. `Well, I didn't know you were such a cock man,' he snapped back, and swigged back the last of his scotch. Too much, as it turned out, and he coughed and spluttered a little, undermining his attempt to casually bat away Jamie's teasing. He sat up a bit as he coughed the itch away. Jamie just giggled at him.
Beyond them, it was silence. Presumably, the rest of the household were asleep now, and this front study was the only source of any life in the Lampard house. What time had it got to? Too late for a third of these, for sure, Frank thought a little blearily. He'd had a good few beers as it was, and he was getting tired. He watched Jamie slowly finish his own second whiskey, and let out a thoughtful sigh.
You sure you want to get a taxi back at this time?' he asked. I could make up a sofa for you downstairs, you know... You could sleep down there and dream sweet dreams of Ross Barkley's meat, you old pervert, hehe...'
God, stop going on about it,' Jamie mumbled playfully back. But... yeh. Maybe you're right, cuz.' He let out a drunken yawn. `A bit of kip on the couch wouldn't do me any harm. Hey, it'll take me back to the good old days before my wife actually fucking left me, hey?'
Frank looked at him sympathetically, seeing the pain beneath all his brash bachelor persona. As he got up from his seat, he planted a comforting hand on the other guy's shoulder, feeling his body heat through his shirt for a moment, then nodded to the door. `Come on pal, let's get you set up.'
As he turned for the door, he started in surprise as Jamie, following him, cupped a hand suddenly to his behind in his slim fit jeans, and gave one cheek a good squeeze. `Huh, nice arse, cuz, but you'd never confuse this with Jenifer fucking Lopez, would ya?' A long, sleazy laugh in his ear, Jamie's whiskey breath brushing his senses as they lingered at the office door. Frank spun round with a nervous laugh and clapped his hand to the crotch of Jamie's tight chequered suit trousers, grasping his package in retaliation.
And this doesn't feel as big as what's in those pictures,' he muttered back, enjoying the look of amused surprise on the older bloke's face at this comeback. Mind...' He squeezed it a bit more, let his hand play over the tightness of it for a few more seconds. `It's hardly small!'
Jamie laughed into his face, more alcohol-scented breath, and pushed him into the door a bit at that, prodding his tummy through his jumper a bit. Oi, you dirty bugger, hands off my cock,' he slurred, though Frank had already hastily let go, unless you want to get me hard for fuck's sake.'
I don't think you'd get hard at ME touching you up,' Frank laughed back at him, feeling suddenly very tightly pinned to the door by his cousin's presence. He shoved him back a bit, forcing out a laugh, and turned to open the door, his butt still tingling a bit from the surprising grab. Come on, let's get you bedded down before you get too gropey, you mad fuck. Too much of the single life, Jamie boy, too much!'
Downstairs, they headed into the lounge at the rear of the house, not bothering to switch on any proper lights, the room still faintly glowing with the pulsing twinkles of the Christmas tree in the bay windows. Frank picked his way through the lingering mess of the party, little of which they'd bothered to tidy afer getting rid of the guests, and towards the leather sofa bed in the corner, which would be a bit small but more or less do for drunken Redknapp. Behind him came Jamie, still chuckling drily to himself, stumbling in the dark a bit.
Frank bent down to take off the big cushions so he could pull out the sofa bed, but as he did, he felt it: Jamie's hand grabbing him again in the dark, a light slap to his backside and then a good squeeze of one buttock. He let out a quiet yelp of his surprise, and turned clumsily, falling into sitting position on the disturbed leather padding of the sofa bed – Jamie lunged forward with a drunken laugh, half onto him, so Frank had to steer him onto his arse on the seat at his side rather than be squashed under him. They both let out wheezy laughs at this, eyes adjusting to the soft pulse of the festive lights. Jamie's shirt was half open now, showing some of his smooth still fairly defined chest, a body far too good for a man nearing 50.
`Stop... spanking... me,' Frank laughed at him in a sighing voice. He slapped at his cousin's thigh now and left his hand dangling there against that leg, still a thick footballer's thigh even if the man's playing days were much longer gone than his own.
`Well stop being so damned cute, cuz,' Jamie giggled in the shadows, spreading his leg a bit and flopping it over Frank's, then reaching a hand up to grab playfully at Frank's thick strong neck from behind, thumbing at it and the bottom of his hairline. Frank groaned a little bit at this massaging touch and twisted his head away, too tired and drunk to really indulge Jamie's funny mood, but also... letting his hand slip up that thigh a bit, enjoying the warmth radiating through Redknapp's trousers against his wrist and palm.
Well,' Jamie murmured quietly, aren't you gonna grab it again?'
Frank paused, the question echoing in his tipsy ears, twisting his head a bit to meet Jamie's eyes, which reflected the twinkling of the tree lights beyond them. They were close and tangled on the sofa bed in the dark of the lounge, and Frank could feel the heat pouring off his drunk older cousin, and himself, and... god, did this room need to be so fucking WARM tonight? He should really have turned down the central heating, but... his skin was prickling. He felt like leaping into a recovery ice bath at Stamford Bridge, for fuck's sake.
`Grab what?' he chuckled with faux naivety.
He felt Jamie's hand rest atop his own, on that meaty thigh, and pull it over, so it closed over a clothed package. He let his fingers rest there against the shape of it, and held his breath, and stared into Jamie's half visible facial features, searching for some meaning or clarity in this whiskey-fuelled blur.
`Cuz,' Frank breathed out, a little hoarsely.
It's not as big as the one in the pics,' Redknapp whispered, but it isn't a wee chipolata. Give it a feel.' His hand, on Frank's hand, squeezed lightly. `Don't you think?'
Frank felt the shape of it, the suggestive curves of flesh beneath the cotton, and the clammy warmth of a hand on his, and glanced his eyes down in the gloom, at what he was being guided into doing. It definitely doesn't feel small,' was all he managed to say, and then, Mate, my wife is upstairs. Waiting for me.' And then, another breathy pause in the dark, `We're family.'
That's what makes it okay,' Jamie replied softly. Same flesh and blood, right... so... it's just a matter of flesh and... oh, the blood is starting to rush to it.'
Frank felt the hand on his squeeze tighter, and the shape in his grasp throb and stretch. He inhaled sharply, and he made to pull away, but Jamie's hand gripped his, and the bloke's other arm came about his overwarm shoulders, pulling him back in a manly embrace. He swore inaudibly under his breath, then forced out a laugh, as if this was all a fucking prank, a silly family joke, an extension of years of laddish banter between the two of them, and not...
Jamie let out a soft, purring groan. Frank squeezed a bit and ran a finger and thumb a bit wider, feeling the shape of it. He swore again. `Fucking hell, mate,' was all he could say. He tensed his arm and torso against the feel of creeping fingers on his far shoulder and tickling in the pit beneath and down the side of his jumper to where it lifted above his waist. The electric touch of Jamie stroking at his exposed hip. He let out another long held breath and it sounded like a pleading whine. Pleading for what? Escape, or...?
Relax, cuz,' Jamie's voice came now. Everyone else is asleep. Just us.'
`But...'
`Feel how hard it is now...'
He was right. Frank could feel it like a rod against his palm, and he knew his own cock was stirring too. This was wrong on more levels than he could count, and yet... It was the same rush he'd felt with Ross bent over in front of him. The same novel excitement, the same... desire for flesh. Flesh and blood, as he'd put it. Maybe Jamie was right: did their connection make this... okay? He rubbed at the form in Jamie's trousers a bit, and listened to the man's ragged moan, and felt those fingers pulling up on his jumper a little, then reached for the belt and waistband of his jeans.
Frank pulled his hand from his cousin's crotch, but only to relax back a little and, to reach down, and undo the belt and front of his jeans, easing the pressure on his swelling member. A rustling indicated Jamie was doing the same, and then his hand was being tugged on again by clammy fingers, and he felt his right hand pushed into the warm insides of those same trousers, whilst with his left hand he began pulling out his own prick. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was happening.
Before he could really figure out his own member, his hand was gripped about Jamie's dick in the tight restraints of whatever undies the stud was wearing, then pulling it out into the air. It really felt so big and thick to his blind touch, and he dare not look over to its shape in the darkness. He gasped as he felt warm fingers entering his own boxer shorts, and pulling his semi out of the open flies. He just let out a long, whimpering gasp, and tried to man up to the challenge of pulling in jerky strokes on Jamie's cock. Was it bigger than his own? It definitely felt it.
Oh yeh,' Jamie's soft, purring moan came, that feels good, Franky, keep doing that... Mmm...'
Frank closed his eyes and rested his head back against the leather of the sofa, and thus against Jamie's own head, their dark hair brushing, ears stroking each other, a softer touch than their sweaty, greedy hands on each other's hard-ons right now. Frank couldn't hold on to the moans of pleasure at another bloke's touch on his recently neglected cock. The same wifely disinterest that had left him so randy and frustrated the day he'd tossed off behind Barkley, surely. It was all HER fault he was... OH GOD, that felt so good.
Buddy,' he murmured into the shadows, this is...'
`Fuckin' great?' came Jamie's sniggering groan.
`Fuckin' weird...! Ohhh...'
`Shut up and enjoy it,' was all Redknapp had to say to this, and Frank felt his body shift and relax more. He tightened his hold on his cousin's big nob, feeling its veiny girth in his hand, and gasped as Jamie's fingers slid down his own shaft and onto his tight, cum-loaded bollocks, days of unspent sexual energy building up there. Was his cousin really about to make him blow it? Shit, shit... He tugged almost aggressively on the Redknapp pole, as if in revenge for this teasing touch at his testicles. The mutual wanking got faster and rougher, and the leather of the sofa creaked and squeaked beneath their shifting legs and buttocks.
`You close?' came Jamie's urgent whisper.
`I... I think so... ugh... are you...?'
`Yeah... really fuckin' close, bruv...'
What if it gets on the-
`Shut the FUCK up and forget HER... Mmmm... oh, cuz, yes... just like that...'
`Like... this?' Frank bit his lip so tightly he tasted blood, and let his thumb caress the fat head in his last few strokes, then he felt a twitch and a throb and his cousin's whole body tighten against him on the couch, and then a wet splash against his fingers and, for all he knew, all over the fucking expensive leather. Jamie's groans were worryingly but excitingly loud against him, but his strokes eased on Frank's cock now he was satisfied. Frank pushed his own spare hand onto his prick, taking over from the incestuous handjob, letting his other hand rest against the twitching tentpole of Jamie's spent prick, the bloke's cum oozing over his trembling warm fingers.
Go on...' came Jamie's encouraging voice in his ear, go on cuz... blow it... come on, you fucker... Imagine the arse in those photos, hah... Yes, yes, that's it...'
Frank threw his head back and squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, fighting to hold in the scream of pleasure he wanted to bellow right at the ceiling and wake up every fucking sleeper above them. Somehow he bit it down and just let out a grunting whimper of a noise as he spilled his cum over his jeans, days' worth of spunk spurting from his quivering member. Jamie's fingers replaced it against the hot flesh, giving him a last few pulls to encourage out the bubbling trickle of his semen. Frank panted and gasped at the night air, and let his fingers slide away from that big cock, gripping Jamie's thigh instead, so solid and supportive beneath his hand.
`You better go up to bed,' Redknapp breathed, after what could have been up to ten minutes of silent panting on the couch, their bodies still tangled. He elbowed Frank softly, breaking his satisfied trance.
`Yeah,' Lampard said numbly, and he climbed up onto his feet, stuffing his cock into his pants and doing up the belt but not bothering with the button fly. He didn't dare look back down at the sprawled form of his cousin. He just padded over to the cupboards beneath the windows, and tugged out some sheets and cushions stored there, and piled them at Jamie's feet. He looked in the half-light at the fleshy pink shape stretched over the thigh of those smart trousers, the thing he'd just wanked to climax.
Right,' he said, in the same distant voice, er... good night, cuz. Sleep well...'
He turned and walked out, briefly worrying Jamie would fall asleep like that, and be discovered by his wife or her elderly aunt in the morning and – But no, behind him he heard the rustle of bedding and clothes as Jamie undressed and pulled the blanket and cushions to him. Frank closed the door quietly behind him, and stood at the foot of the stairs for several more minutes, mind racing, before finally rushing stealthily up the stairs and sneaking into his own master bedroom like a naughty teenager, not a horny DILF with a dirty secret. Once undressed and in bed, he fell asleep to a blurred, drunken replay of the whole evening: seeing it over again, the drinks in the study, the lurching gropes from Jamie, the cock action on the couch... and then their two beautiful orgasms, side by side. He pictured Jamie sleeping directly below, utterly satisfied by his hand, and fell into fitful, excited sleep, to dream of who knew what. Anything but Ross Barkley, hopefully.
**THANKS AGAIN FOR ALL THE EMAILS - LOVE TO HEAR HOW MUCH PEOPLE ARE ENJOYING THE STORIES. I KNOW THIS ONE IS A BIT OF A BREAK AWAY FROM THE USUAL, BUT HOPEFULLY STILL PLEASES THE READERS. :)