Goose/Gander

As it was getting dark, caters arrived—again a couple of gay men who Hart had discovered and folded into his periodic beach party scene—and set up for a BBQ dinner on the beach house deck. A few more than a dozen of men were there for that phase of the party, all standing and sitting on the deck, drinking beer, eating BBQ, and flirting with each other. The beach house's three small bedrooms continued to see a revolving parade of men, fucking on the beds and returning to the deck afterward. There were a few more tops than bottoms. Nearly everyone was fucking anyone they were compatible with. Kyle fucked all of the bottoms and had them all purring. Andy responded to flirting, but he hadn't fucked anyone yet. He was watching for Evan Hart to pair up, hopefully with Kyle Borden, because that was who was going to be named as correspondent in the divorce case. Eduardo was lying down and opening his legs for every top who fancied him, although he too was keeping an eye on Hart and Borden—and Andy as well, pursuing the assignment.

As the party moved on into the evening, Andy got his chance. He observed Hart and Borden cozying up with each other. The crowd was beginning to thin out. The caterers had packed up and left. There was evidence that the drinks and snacks were not limitless. Eduardo nudged Andy to make sure he caught Evan and Kyle linking arms and heading for the bedrooms. Andy followed, pulling his cellphone out of the pocket of his shorts.

The big, black basketballer stud, Kyle, balled Evan Hart on a bed in a missionary in which Hart sat on his butt, his torso half reclined back, his legs raised and spread, Kyle holding his ankles and crouched between his thighs, fucking his fast and hard. Hart was grasping the black man's buttocks and exclaiming in dirty words and phrases how good he was being fucked by a hard, thick, black cock.

Andy caught it all on his cellphone. Evan and Kyle were so much into each other that they didn't notice him at the door recording their romp on the bed. Assignment done, He returned to the living room. There were only half a dozen of men left. They'd put on more mellow music since before Andy had followed Evan and Kyle to the bedrooms, and the men who were left were dancing close together.

Freed of work responsibility, Andy downed a beer and danced with Eduardo. He drank another beer and danced with Evan Hart, who had returned from the bedroom. They partied for another hour or two, the atmosphere becoming languid and sensual. The beer still flowing.

Andy came to in the middle of the night, in one of the bedrooms, the lights blazing, he and Evan Hart naked, Andy stretched out on his back on the bed, Evan Hart saddled on his hips, skewered by his cock, riding him slowly, fully sheathed, in a rocking cowboy fuck.

In his mind Andy fully realized he shouldn't be doing this. But he already was doing this. And he'd wanted to get it on with Hart ever since he heard he'd been meeting the movie star. He was doing it now. It probably didn't make any difference. Andy had filmed the evidence—Hart and Borden—that he'd been sent to get. He shouldn't really matter what he an Hart did now.

And, anyway, they were doing it now. Andy dug his heels into the mattress, grasped Evan by the waist, and became more active in the thrusting.

They cried out in unison as they both came—together.

* * * *

"What did you do that for?" Andy asked, shocked to see Hunter Wolfe of the law firm Christopher, Wyly, and Wolfe ceremoniously tear up the photos Andy had had printed and toss them into a trashcan at the side of the desk in his Savannah office. It was the afternoon of Saturday, April 1st, and Andy had had to rush to get the photos printed and get back to Savannah from Tybee Island. When he had phoned Wolfe that he'd managed to photo Evan Hart and Kyle Borden in the sexual clutch, Wolfe had wanted to meet with him in Savannah that afternoon even if it was a Saturday.

"I didn't need to see these photos. The photos I wanted to see were these on my cellphone that Eduardo Fernandez sent me," Wolfe answered. "Here take a look. These turned out quite well, don't you think? You and Eduardo in Henry's Tybee Island beach house and then you and Evan Hart last night in his beach rental."

"You had the rental house bugged," Andy said. "And Eduardo must have taken the photos last night. But why? This isn't what you sent me to do. Are you making a fool of me?"

"Well, it is April Fool's Day," Wolfe said and laughed. "I think it will make for a memorable joke. And the beach house you stayed in belongs to one of our partners, Henry Wyly. We have the bedroom bugged with hidden surveillance cameras just for work as this."

"What's going on here? It isn't Evan Hart you wanted to compromise, is it? It's me. This is Sherrie's firm. I should have known. You set me up, didn't you? You pitched a scenario for me to work and then you worked me that way just to give Sherrie the ammunition she needs to invoke my prenup provisions. I'm the fool here."

"Something like that, yes, but with a bit of variation. Your wife is Henry Wyly's direct client and her business helps keep him a partner here. He was on vacation when your wife came in to see if we could set something up to trap you. I took it on but in Henry's name. He doesn't know yet we're doing this for Sherrie Guilford."

"Shit," Andy exclaimed.

"We're at a bit of a decision point here, though. I could erase these photos and go with these other ones instead. You needn't be the April Fool here if you don't want to be. What do you think of these photos?"

He turned the cellphone and scrolled through a few other photos for Andy to see—photos that made Andy gasp. They were photos of his wife, Sherrie, in the sack with that young waiter, Matt, who Andy was sure his wife was grooming to be her next husband. And there were other photos too—ones of Sherrie jumping of the bones of the pool boy, Caleb.

"Why, that's that the same beach house I was just at," Andy said.

"Yes, yes, it is. Henry knows Sherrie has been using it for her trysts for years. He doesn't know you've used it the past two days."

There were photos of Eduardo fucking Sherrie at the beach house too.

"Well, fuck," Andy said.

"This is a decision point for you," Wolfe said. "We can use the photos of you on Sherrie's behalf to squeeze you on the prenup or we could use the photos of your wife to squeeze her on the prenup. You can be the April Fool or she can be. Let's discuss this."

"I'm listening," Andy said.

* * * *

He cried out. They both shot their loads. Andy let loose of the grip he was using to hold Hunter's legs raised and spread in a missionary fuck, and the younger man withdrew and went over and leaned into the doorframe of the lawyer's glass door out onto Hunter's apartment balcony. He pulled a cigarette out of a pack on the nightstand and lit up before going to the door. He opened it to provide an escape route for the smoke. From Hunter Wolfe's fourth-floor West River Street condo, one got a clear view of the Talmadge Memorial Bridge bringing traffic into the city from the north on Route 17.

It had been a good fuck, and Andy would have been happy to do it—once his problem with Sherrie's prenup had been settled—even if fucking Wolfe hadn't come as part of the deal for Sherrie to be April Fool's Day screwed rather than him. The lawyer hadn't really had to go to these lengths to get in bed with Andy now that the prenup problem was negated. Wolfe was a handsome man and in good condition, and Andy didn't mind fucking men significantly older than he was. He was free to do so now that he'd struck this deal with the lawyer. Wolfe would be his divorce lawyer and they'd ditch the damning photos being collected on Andy and substitute those featuring Sherrie. The divorce would go through, but Andy would be receiving a hefty allowance now rather than being tossed out in the cold.

But it hardly seemed to have been worth all of the effort just for Wolfe to manage a way of getting Andy on top of him without Andy losing a favorable divorce settlement.

"I don't understand why you went to all this trouble," Andy asked as he lounged against the doorframe and smoked his cigarette. Hunter was stretched out on the bed, giving Andy a dreamy look, and pulling on his cock, regaining his arousal. They both knew Andy would come back to the bed and do him again—and they both were good with that. "Won't this fuck up your law firm? Weren't you supposed to be representing Sherrie in this divorce?"

Wolfe laughed. "It'll be worth it. Your wife is stuck on Wyly to represent her more than the rest of the firm and he's using that to jerk the other lawyers around. She's sleeping with Wyly too, you know. Doing this the way I am is going to make Wyly an April Fool as much as your wife. When she finds out the firm has gone with you rather them her and we collected the photos on her, she'll blame Wyly, who's still celebrating down in the Bahamas. She'll leave and he'll get the blame. In the photo collection we did, this is a case of what's good for the goose is good for the gander—in duplicate."

"So, I'll screw Sherrie and you'll screw Wyly. April Fools to them both," Andy said.

"I think a new firm name of Christopher and Wolfe sounds great, don't you?" Hunter asked, with a laugh. "And for right now I'd like you to come back to bed and screw me again."

And that's exactly what Andy did.