Home for the Holidays Ch. 02

There was one rule that Jake had anytime he hooked up with someone: never spend the night. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the feeling of waking up next to someone or even sharing breakfast knowing someone actually wanted him around. But, in his experience, hook-ups were not a thing that happened between people who wanted the other person around beyond shooting a load. Even if he could one day see himself being the type of person that spent the night and had breakfast with someone after sex, it would save him a lot of anxiety and frustration if he just went home after.

Somehow, in the heat of the moment the previous night, Jake had forgotten his one rule, and as he woke the next morning, Jerry's arm wrapped around him, his hairy belly protruding into his back, and his former coach's stiff morning wood poking him in the butt, Jake felt calm—a feeling he wasn't accustomed to feeling the morning after.

His head on the pillow, he opened his eyes and stared out the bedroom window, observing the fine details of the frost in the corners of the windows. Beyond, he could make out nothing, as the morning sun was reflecting off the densely packed snow outside and creating that almost blinding effect that usually followed a fresh winter storm. The distinct absence of his usual nerves would have normally been a sense of worry in and of itself for Jake, but lying there, blanketed in warmth, with Coach Roberts nestled against him, Jake felt different.

It hadn't just been a hook-up in the usual sense, especially not in the manner he thought it would be going into the night. The whole thing had been more of a dream come true, a wish fulfilled, a scene sprung right from his fantasies. It was a happy accident that he had replayed again and again in his head throughout the night and, for some strange reason, it felt right.

"Are you awake?" Jerry whispered softly in his ear.

Jake answered by slowly rolling himself over; the tight wrap he had around himself in the warm blankets made the move a bit difficult.

A smile spread across Jerry's face. He wasn't used to having anyone spend the night, especially not someone Jake's age, and even more so someone that had been a former student of his. It was a peculiar situation for him, but he couldn't deny the warmness it made him feel inside. "Did you sleep okay?" Jerry asked.

"Yeah," Jake nodded. He pushed his hand into his eye to rub away the sleep. "I did. And you?"

"That was the best night's sleep I've had in ages," Jerry gushed. "Do you want to get up and find something to eat, or should we stay in bed all day?" It was wishful thinking on his part, but Jerry couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do. "Honestly, I'd prefer the latter," he continued nervously, hoping Jake wasn't just going to up and leave him like they usually did, "but I understand you've got things to do. Probably want to get home to see your fam—"

Jake leaned forward and cut him off with a kiss. The sudden act surprised both of them, and they each smiled through nervous laughter. "Breakfast would be great."

"Eggs and turkey bacon okay?" Jerry asked, pulling the covers off himself.

"Turkey bacon?" Jake gave him a suspicious look that quickly transitioned to one of sheer delight as he watched Coach Roberts slide out of bed and walk fully nude over to the door. The morning sun cast the old man's body in a new light, and Jake couldn't help but take it all in. Jerry's ass was smooth and round, symmetrical and plump; the pale cheeks looked like they had never seen the sun, unlike Jerry's torso, which was almost two shades darker.

Grabbing his bathrobe from the hook behind the door, Jerry spun around, swinging the dark blue fabric around his shoulders as he slid it on. For the briefest of moments, Jake got to see the front side. Without the white undershirt to spoil the view, Jake marveled at the dense blanket of fur that coated Jerry's sturdy pecs and belly. The hair covered every inch of his body from his neckline to his groin—a sea of black speckled with an ample amount of gray. The coach's soft cock rested gently on his weighty nutsack, swinging ever so slightly with the movement of Jerry's body as he finished putting on the robe.

Jerry caught the shift in Jake's demeanor as his body disappeared from view. "Yes," he said. "Turkey bacon." He ripped the robe back open and flashed the young man. "My doctor said I need to lower my cholesterol." He then turned and left the room.

Tossing the covers off himself, Jake swung his legs over the edge of the bed and followed. "But what about last night? The burger and the float?"

"My doctor gave me recommendations on how I might live longer," Jerry said, reaching into the fridge and grabbing the eggs, turkey bacon, and milk. "Giving up Cherry's food isn't living. So... we compromise."

Shutting the door, Jerry realized that Jake had followed him without putting any clothes on. "My, my..." he said before sighing. "Isn't that a glorious sight."

The attention would've normally made Jake uneasy, but there was something genuinely sincere about the way Jerry had said it, as if the man was truly fascinated with what he saw, that made the compliment a welcome one.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked, after he'd seen it all. "Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that you're comfortable enough here that you're willing to walk around in the buff, but it is twenty degrees outside."

To be honest, having abandoned the cozy blankets, Jake was a bit cold. He hadn't really thought about putting clothes on as he followed Jerry out of the room, but that decision—or lack thereof—was coming back to bite him. "I guess I just didn't want you to think I was in a hurry to get out of here, so I didn't want to throw my clothes on." After saying this, his normal worry about sticking around past his welcome resurfaced and he panicked. "Unless you want me to go. I mean, I certainly don't want to overstay my welcome, and I'm sure you have things you need to do, so I can just get out of here and let you—"

It was Jake's turn to be cut off by a kiss. "Relax," Jerry told him, recognizing that lack of confidence Jake had always had back in high school. "I'm not asking you to move in, I've got nowhere to be, and there's nothing I'd rather do this morning than share a meal with you. Got it?"

Jake sighed, a little embarrassed, and then nodded in agreement. "I guess I'm not very good at this."

"That's okay. Frankly, I'd be less interested if you were... good at it, that is. I've met guys who just wanted to fuck and move on before; personally, I appreciate a connection with a little more depth. You don't have to stay any longer than you are comfortable, but I do appreciate your willingness to indulge an old man." He turned and set the ingredients on the counter and bent over to pull a frying pan from the cabinet. "Besides," he added, turning back toward Jake, "this is just an old coach and his former student," he paused, thinking of the right way to say it, "getting reacquainted. Now, go grab some sweats out of my dresser."

Without saying another word, Jake headed back around the corner and into the bedroom. To him, it was obvious that Jerry had been a teacher, and not just because he had been in his class. The way he talked him down, made him feel like he belonged, was a trait Jake had admired in all his favorite past educators, and he strove to provide the same level of friendly guidance to his own students now.

The oak dresser had three large drawers that spanned the width of it and three smaller drawers along the top row. Thinking there was no way the sweats would fit in the top row, he instead started with the first of the big drawers. Pulling it out, he saw two stacks of t-shirts on the left and an unkempt pile of underwear filling the right. He reached in and pulled out a Bike jockstrap off the top of the pile. The woven cotton pouch was off-color, as if time had left its mark in the form of staining from years of sweat and piss. Jake lifted it to his face and sniffed the pouch. It was freshly laundered and lacked the sweet smell of Coach Roberts's sweaty balls, but there was a childish delight Jake felt in the simple act of feeling that pouch against his face, his nose and mouth pressed somewhere he had imagined putting it for so many years. Reluctantly, he put it back and moved on.

In the second drawer, he found the sweats. They were dark gray and a few sizes too big for him, but they'd be warmer than nothing. He grabbed a top and a bottom and, as he pulled them from the drawer and the contents inside shifted, an object rolled out into the open. It was peach-colored, about seven inches long and an inch-and-a-half wide, with a realistic-looking scrotum and a suction cup at the base. Jake picked up the dildo and examined it. It was a bit larger than he was, and pretty rigid, too, with a soft and smooth rubbery outer layer. Holding the weighty toy in his hands, he smiled, the thought of Coach Roberts pleasing himself with a sex toy filling him with a whole new flood of fantasies.

Back in the kitchen, Jerry was already busy frying up the bacon. While the turkey wasn't as greasy as regular old pork, it sizzled and popped in the vegetable oil all the same. He took a look at Jake as he re-entered the room. The young man was practically swimming in the sweats, which were two sizes too big for him. "Good thing you chunked up or those would never fit!" he joked.

Jake pulled the sweatshirt out away from his body; there was emptiness where a belly normally would've been.

"I'm kidding," Coach Roberts said, giving him a quick wink. "You should've seen the look on your face, though." As he cracked a few eggs into a bowl, he added, "There's orange juice in the fridge. Glasses are up here," he said, nodding to the cabinet to his left.

Jake went for the orange juice first, then grabbed some glasses. He set them in front of the two chairs at the small table and poured them both a glass of juice just as the toaster popped. "Butter on your toast?" Jerry asked.

"Absolutely," Jake said, sitting down with his back to the window.

"Good," Jerry replied.

Moments later, he brought over two plates with eggs, bacon, and toast, and set one down in front of each. Then, he pulled his robe open just enough so that the fabric wouldn't pull tight as he sat down.

"This looks great," Jake complimented. "It's been some time since I've had a full breakfast. It's usually just a bowl of cereal before rushing out the door."

"Thanks," Jerry answered. "I hope it tastes as good as it looks."

Jake took a bite of the eggs and realized they were a bit drier than usual.

"Sorry," Jerry said, seeing his initial reaction. "I'm not much for runny eggs. There's extra cheese if you need some help getting it down."

"No, no, it's fine. Just wasn't expecting it."

Jerry took a swig of his orange juice and then looked up at Jake. "So, now that the whiskey has worn off, any regrets?"

Jake didn't even need to think about it. "About last night? Not at all."

Coach Roberts looked relieved. "Good. That's important. As much fun as it was, I feel a little guilty."

"Why?"

"You're a teacher," he said through a bite of egg. "Wouldn't you feel a little strange if you slept with one of your students?"

Jake had to admit that that would be a little awkward—and very illegal—but he hadn't really ever given it much thought. "Former student," he countered, "but fair enough, I guess. I'm not into young guys, though, so I guess that makes it a little easier on my end."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that. How does a high school student get the hots for his fat, old gym teacher?"

"How does a fat, old gym teacher get the hots for an underage student?" Jake retorted.

It was Jerry's turn to say, "Fair enough. But beyond our previous history. I've wondered this about any young guy that is attracted to older guys. It doesn't make sense at all. For us old farts, you've got youth. Your bodies are impeccable. What do I possibly have that they don't?"

That was a good question, and one Jake had pondered for over a decade as he questioned his own sexuality and his preference for older men. "I guess I'd have to say the belly."

"So... fat?"

"Yes."

"Any kid can have a belly."

"But they're never quite as round, and you've got the hair to cover it, and the experience. The power."

Jerry's eyebrows raised and his eyes opened wide. "The power? You a sub?"

Jake shrugged. "Sometimes. When it suits me."

The response made Jerry smile. "Okay. So, there were others, right? I couldn't have been the only one you lusted over," he said, curious to know which of his former co-workers had also attracted the young man's gaze. "How did it start?"

Thinking back to the first time he was aware of other men in any sort of sexual way, he settled on an image of his fifth-grade math teacher. The man was about five-eight, perfectly average in weight, with a round face that was clean-shaven. His cheeks were soft, his eyes kind and caring behind his sizable glasses, and he had a nice, healthy head of gray hair. He had reminded Jake a lot of his grandfather and, at the time, Jake had wished the old man had also been his grandfather so he could have spent more time with him.

"It was Hank Williams in the fifth grade."

"Ha!" Jerry laughed. "Oh, I miss old Hank," he said, thinking about how his old friend had died of a heart attack years before. "But seriously, it was Hank? That's kind of early, isn't it?"

Shaking his head, Jake said, "I don't know, is it? To be honest, I started masturbating long before that, and certainly long before I knew what masturbation was."

"How so?"

Before he could answer, he realized he had never repeated any of this to anyone before. It was both a terrify and liberating experience to share his innermost secrets, and he doubted he could have done it with anyone other than Coach Roberts. "I was in preschool—" he started.

"Preschool!" Jerry exclaimed. "Now I know you're pulling my chain."

"No, stop. I'm being serious," Jake said. "It wasn't masturbation per se, not in the traditional sense, but in preschool I used to lay on my stomach during naptime. On some days, when I couldn't sleep, I'd lay there and rub myself on the cot. Just shifting my hips back and forth. It was a nice feeling, I suppose, my penis rubbing against the inside of my pants. Later, as I got a little older, I realized the same tactic worked in delaying the need to pee. I guess, in a way, that was because I was pleasuring myself. Then one day, stuff came out."

"By frotting on furniture," Jerry offered.

"Yes. I didn't learn that word till much later, obviously."

"Do you still do it?" Jerry asked.

Jake shook his head no. "It kind of kills the sensitivity down there, so I had to stop."

That makes sense, Jerry thought. "You probably have no idea, but for someone who taught sex ed for decades, this is fascinating stuff," he gushed. "What does this have to do with Hank? Did the old man let you frot on him?"

The thought of such an encounter was tantalizingly sweet. "As much as I'd like to say yes, no, that never happened. Mr. Williams was just a really nice teacher. The nicer he was, the more I liked him. I never set out to have a thing for him, but one day after school, he was in the gym shooting hoops while I waited for my dad to pick me up. After a while, Mr. Williams quit, and I was still waiting. After a bit longer, I had to pee, so I went into the locker room and there he was, standing at a locker with nothing on but his white briefs. I was mesmerized," Jake said, his eyes glazing over as he remembered the moment. "I had never seen anything like it."

"But Hank wasn't fat."

"No, but he had enough silver hair on his body to capture the fantasies of a ten-year-old boy."

"And after that you knew?"

Shaking his head, Jake said, "I knew something. What that was, I don't know." He paused and took a bite of his turkey bacon. It wasn't all that bad, but it certainly didn't beat the real stuff. After he was done chewing, he took a drink of his juice and then continued. "I'd say that was probably when I touched myself for the first time. I have no clue why I did it; it just seemed like the right thing to do for some reason. The same stuff came out as the other times, but this time, I could see it. I could feel the semen ejaculate from my body—this opaque white liquid I knew nothing about—and instead of wondering what was going on, I did it more and more. Soon after, I noticed Bob the janitor."

"Now he was fat," Jerry laughed. Sadly, Bob had also since passed.

"Yes, but I wasn't singling in on that or anything. It was the total picture. I don't know what it was about him, it just all looked good. And then there was Mr. K in the seventh grade. It wasn't that I even wanted to do anything with them. I didn't even know people did stuff like sex then. They just fueled my fire, some hidden inspiration for my alone time."

Jerry prodded further, loving that Jake was opening up to him like this. "And in high school?"

"In high school, there was Principal Powers, Coach Isaacs, Mr. Hughes, and, well, you. The total package."

Coach Roberts couldn't help but smirk at this.

"By that time, I knew what sex was—or was starting to get an idea—and for the first time, I wanted to touch someone. I wanted to have you pin me down on the matt, your belly and crotch pressing into me. The fantasy was so real I could almost feel it sometimes. But you were the teacher, and I was the student. It was never going to happen."

"Yeah, well, apparently we both need to rethink the word "never." I would have never thought that little Jake Huebner—the shy, scrawny boy that couldn't even shower after gym class—would ever be picking up older men online. And that goes double for that old man being me."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess," Jake replied. Then, realizing what he said, he added, "Not you specifically. I wasn't saying I was so desperate and you were my only option. I'm quite glad it was you. I just meant—"

Jerry held up a hand and stopped him. "I know what you meant."

Jake sighed in relief.

"And what now? I can tell you don't do this often, but any plans to settle down?" Before waiting for a response, he stood up and walked over to the coffee maker. "Go on, I'm listening. I just need my morning fix."

"No," Jake said. "I'm still not sure my parents would take it so well. There have been a few meetings here and there, mostly one-night stands. I had a professor from BCU that I met up with a few times, but his wife caught on, so that fizzled out. What about you?"

As he sat back down with his coffee in hand, Jerry took a swig and felt the caffeine course through his veins. "You know Castorville. The pickings are slim. And what guys there are, they don't want an old codger like me. I've got one friend that stops by from time to time, but nothing beyond that."

"That explains the toy in the drawer," Jake remarked with a grin.

"You saw that?"

"I did more than see it," Jake replied. "It's got some heft."

"Yes," he admitted. "I suppose when the winter nights get lonely, a man works his way up the chain rather quickly."

"I've never used one before."

"Really? They're not as good as the real thing, that's for sure, but they work when you've got a craving and there's no one else around."

Having finished his breakfast, Jake leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

"What?" Jerry asked.

"Nothing... I mean, I just can't believe I'm sitting here in Coach Roberts' house, wearing his sweats, talking about shoving dildos up our asses. It's just not what I expected the holidays to be like this year... or any year for that matter!"

The former coach stood up—his parting robe giving Jake another brief glimpse of his manhood before it was stolen away again—and took their plates to the sink. "Sorry they're such a bummer for you this year," he said, turning back to Jake and waiting for a response.