Shooting Matt Ch. 15

"Sorry, man," Kent says shaking his head. "Let me show you where to drop your stuff. I'll give you the nickel tour."

It really is a nice place, if a bit sterile feeling. The second bedroom has a small, but very nice, en suite bathroom. I start to put my bag down.

"Don't be a dope, Randy. You aren't sleeping in here."

I nod and shrug at the same time.

At the end of a short hallway, devoid of a single thing on the walls, is the master bedroom. It's big but not enormous. There's a king size bed. I've never understood the point of king size. If you want that much room don't sleep in the same bed.

The master bath includes a large soaking tub and a huge shower with two shower heads. A large water closet, toilet, and bidet have their own little space. A pocket door provides privacy. Back in the bedroom, I notice a balcony with views of the river. It's a great view.

"You sure about selling this place? It's a gorgeous view."

Kent stares out the window. "Yeah, it is but it feels like a part of my life that is over." He turns to look at me. "Want to take a shower?"

"Sure. You got a washing machine? I'm wearing the cleanest of the clothes I brought with me."

"No problem. There's a utility closet behind the kitchen. I'll show you." I start to follow but he stops me. "Bring the rest of your stuff. You might as well wash it all, same amount of time, same amount of water."

"You sure?"

"Don't be a doof. It's fine. Come on." He starts to smile. "In fact..." He quickly pulls off his tee shirt, kicks his shoes off and strips. "I'll throw my stuff in with yours. No point in wasting water."

He turns and dumps the contents of the small bag he'd carried into the bedroom - swimming trunks, pair of boxers, jeans, and a second tee shirt - join the small pile on the floor. I'm distracted by the way his body looks, bent over the bag.

He looks at me. I pull my eyes away from his ass, his dick.

"Are you going to throw a load in our not?"

"I wasn't aware we'd decided that question." I can't help worrying that will sound aggressive.

"I don't suppose we have at that."

***

"Want to go swimming?"

Glenna almost laughs out loud at the practiced look of exasperation on Liam's face.

"I do want to go swimming. I'll do that while you do what you were told, which is doing kicks along the wall."

"Brah, I wasn't told anything. I was given several suggestions. No way I'm doing wall kicks like some toddler at the Y."

"Is that what the physical therapists told you, Matt? To do kicks for now?" Glenna interjects.

"No."

"Yes."

The boys' voices overlap.

"Then that's what you ought to do, honey."

"Water's still cold. You don't want to cramp up halfway to the swim platform," Leon offers. "Come on, I'll go with you. Start out at the end of the dock. You won't be able to hold on to the deck - too high - but you can use one of the supports. If your back feels okay, Liam and I will swim out to the platform with you."

"Huh? No fucking way. I don't need a couple of babysitters to swim 25 meters."

"Probably not," Leon agrees with a shrug. "But wear bright colored trunks just in case. It's easier to spot the body in the murk if you do."

"That's not funny," Liam sputters.

"No, it's not," Leon agrees. "That's why I said it."

"Jesus H. Christ, what is it with men and their goddamn, tiresome, pissing contests," Glenna snaps and stomps toward the door. "Use one of the paddle boards like a kick board, push it sideways if you want to make it harder. Don't fucking drown, any of you testosterone soaked ass wipes; it's bad for business."

"Now look at what you did. You pissed off my wife," Leon growls.

It's a moment before Matt sees what passes for a smile on Leon's face. He hopes Liam sees it; the dude is not giving Leon any slack.

He'd never admit it but Matt was glad he'd taken Glenna's advice. He'd started stiffening up in the cold water almost from the start. As he kicked, his muscles relaxed. He told himself it was because pushing a paddle board crossways through the water was super hard but he was only halfway to the platform before his back started getting tight again. Leon swam on to the platform. He looked relaxed but Matt could feel the man's eyes fixed on him.

Liam, only a slightly better than average swimmer, passed him doing a lazy free-style. For the first-time Matt was envious of his friend. Liam turned, not a racing turn, nothing to kick off of, and swam back to the dock. As he headed back to the platform he swam up beside Matt.

"Mind if I share?" he panted, perhaps more than was strictly believable.

Matt was tired enough, and stiff enough, he shrugged instead of telling his friend to fuck off. He didn't object when Liam started kicking.

When they reached the platform, Matt rested on the board, careful not to let his hand get caught between the board and the side of the swimming platform. He breathed as quietly as possible while he contemplated how to get onto the platform. Letting his friends pull him up would be humiliating and he was afraid it would stretch his back. In the end, he used the ladder, keeping is back straight and hiding the pain in his back as he climbed up.

"Stretch out in the sun, let it warm up your muscles," Leon advised.

Matt took his advice, lowering himself with his arms. The plank decking of the platform was warm. The boards smelled of the lake: wet, a bit muddy, a bit fishy, and vaguely green. That was the algae he imagined. He willed himself not to panic. If he was barely able to kick 25 meters, how the fuck was he going to stay on the team.

"I think you must have pissed off Glenna, dude," Liam tells him. "Pretending that paddle board is a kick board is wicked nuts, man. Wicked. She's trying to kill you."

"No. Bad for business, like she said," Leon intones. "But Liam's right. I don't think I could kick that thing to the platform and there's nothing wrong with my back. That would've been a hell of a workout even if you were tip top."

"Which he's not, thanks..."

"Just fucking knock it off, Liam! Christ, fucking drop it, already."

Matt's pissed. It's one of the few times Liam could remember Matt angry, and the first time it was directed at him.

"And don't fucking jump up and swim back to the dock," Matt snapped. "I'm not pissed," clearly a lie, "but let it go. It was an accident. End of fucking story. I don't have time for any extra drama."

"Liam, come over here," Leon asks. The platform rocks as he stands and walks toward Matt. He kneels beside Matt. "Come on. I want to show you something," he tells Liam, who still stands glaring at him, not moving. "Kneel on the other side," he directs.

Liam finally decides he has no desire to give Matt the satisfaction of knowing he was about to swim back to the dock to storm around the cabin, alone and pissed, looking for something to break. He crosses the small platform and starts to kneel.

"Changed my mind. First, stretch out like Matt," Leon requests, patting the deck beside him. "Come on, please."

Liam does but he turns his head away from Matt, seriously pissed that Matt is taking the side of the dude who put him in this situation over his own.

"I'm going to touch your back," he says softly and does it before Liam can tell him not to. "You probably already know this but these ropes of muscle along your spine are the paraspinous muscles, no surprise. They're the ones that are tightening up, trying to get Matt's back rigid to avoid aggravating the broken bits." His finger touches the muscles along Liam's spine. "The fracture is fairly low, down here," his finger touch Liam where his back arches inward. "If I was you, I'd start above the tender area and work my way up to the shoulders and down the arms. Then I'd come back to the lower back. Very, very carefully with the muscles around the fracture sight, then the gluts and legs. Work from the center, pushing and prodding the muscle toxins toward the periphery. Let me show you.

His fingers push harder along Liam's spine. "Like this," Leon explains. "It's easier with a little oil." He provides a cursory but adequate intro into sports massage. "When we get back, if you want, I can walk you through the real thing. That might be easier."

"Uh, sure, okay, cool," Liam mumbles.

Matt chuckles, one cheek resting on his arm. "You are such a fucking dork, brah. I mean, seriously."

"Fuck your back, bitch. I will roll your ass off this dock and watch you sink."

"Oh, I'm scared," Matt snickers and turns his head away, still chuckling. "And it ain't a fuck dock; it's a swim platform."

Leon stands and dives into the water. The dive fits his personality; it barely seems to perturb the water. He begins to swim laps, moving back and forth between the platform and the dock.

"How's your back? Really. Don't bullshit me. Please." Liam stretches, lying on his back, beside Matt. He turns his head to look at his friend. The fingers of his left hand trail over Matt's lower back.

"Pretty stiff," Matt says after a minute. "I don't think I could have made it to the platform if you hadn't helped." His head is turned away from Liam. "Dude, I'm scared. What if I'm not ready to swim? I have to swim."

"You'll be ready to swim. Leon was right, even if you hadn't hurt your back, kicking that board all the way out here would have been a bitch." He rolls on to his side, unmindful of the fact that lying comfortably on a wooden deck without so much as a towel for padding was a luxury of youth. "Ready to head in?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"We should go on either side, push it the way it's designed to go, not sideways."

"Let me go as far as I can on my own. I'll let you know when I need help. Deal?"

Liam nods but the look on his face tells Matt he's in no mood for any of Matt's fucking around.

Matt rolls to the edge of the platform, sits and pushes himself off with his hands. Liam settles for a pinch-your-nose-and-hop-in-feet-first entry.

***

Kent closes the door to the utility closet and the sound of the washer filling fades. I can't pull my eyes away from his body. The simple movement of his arm, the miniscule bulging of his bicep as he pushes the door closed, mesmerizes me. My cock has been getting hard from the moment he stepped out his clothes and told me to do the same. The ostensible reason for undressing was to do laundry; my cock missed that memo. All my cock sees is a man, a naked man, that I've wanted to get my hands and mouth on for the past several days.

He starts to turn. I fall to my knees in front of him. I grab his hips and shove him back against the door he'd just closed. I hear him start to say something as I tilt my head to one side and gobble up his dick. My cock wasn't the only one finding the atmosphere invigorating. He's already more than half hard.

I hear a mumbled protest, or maybe it's just a moan. I'm past caring. I want his dick. If he doesn't want to give it to me he'll need to do more than just act unsure. Fuck it. I concentrate on getting his dick hard.

I'm not interested in subtle. I deep throat his cock, pushing my face into his belly. I hold him there, shaking my head from side to side, tensing and relaxing my tongue against the under shaft, and squeezing the sides of his ass like I'm about to shove his entire fucking body into my mouth.

What I hear now is most definitely a moan. The fingers in my hair clutch, they don't push me away. I hold him in my mouth, feeling him grow hard, rock hard, in my throat. I feel spit start to run over my lips. I ignore it. I add my moans to his, turning my throat into a vibrating sleeve of warmth.

As I slide my mouth up and over his dick, a strand of my own spit lands atop my thigh. I press the tip of my tongue to his piss slit.

His fingers clench in my hair. His dick jerks, freeing itself from my lips. His cum burns my cheek and eye. My right hand leaves his hip and clutches at his bucking cock. I get his dick back in my mouth and savor my first taste of his manhood.

"Jesus. Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry."

I take his dick deep into my throat. My hand strokes his ass. I push my face into his belly and breath him in. I let him grow soft in my mouth before I surrender his dick. The entire time Kent keeps apologizing for cumming so fast.

"Man," I tell him, wiping his cum off my cheek with one finger. "Quit apologizing. That was an appetizer and a mighty fine one at that. This was to relieve the tension. You'll last a lot longer now. You know, like in that movie, jerk off now, be more relaxed, last longer later."

"Yeah. Sure. I mean it's been over two years and I don't jerk off much, but Jesus that was embarrassing," he mumbles as I climb to my feet.

He doesn't pull away when I lean in for a kiss. His tongue pushes its way into my mouth.

"Come on," he sighs, pulling away. "Let me show you the shower."

***

"Keep us company?"

Glenna looks up from the paper. Leon has the strap of the folding massage table over his left shoulder.

"Naw, I'm good. I'll work on the crossword."

"You sure?"

She gets up and crosses the floor and stands beside her husband. She rests a hand on his forearm.

"Leon, I trust you, honey. If after all these years you need to indulge yourself, well, I understand. But I trust you either way. I don't need to keep an eye on you and you don't need to feel you need to offer me the opportunity."

Leon kisses his wife. "That's sweet but I was only wanting some company. Liam still hates my guts. You're a calming influence." He grins at her. "You know we could treat them to a four-handed massage."

"The boys don't want me touching them, Leon! For Pete's sake, be serious."

"I am being serious. True, neither of them may be interested in having sex with you but trust me, at that age, any warm touch, no matter the source, is welcome. Come on."

Glenna shrugs and sets the paper down on the sofa. "If this turns out to be a bad idea do I get to smack you?"

"Don't you always?"

"Hmm, can't recall too many bad ideas from that inscrutable head of yours. You sure I've gotten to smack ya?"

"No, honey. I'm not sure of anything much, other than I love you."

"Nuh-uh, buster. Don't be pulling the 'sweet' card on me. If this goes south, I'm still smacking you." She rests her head on his chest. "I love you too, Leon."

"Who's first?"

"Uh, Matt. Right?" Liam asks, confused.

"Why don't Glenna and I show you how it should be done? Then, I'll guide you through it, while you massage Matt."

"Go on, Liam," Matt says, nodding. He takes a sip of beer. "Sounds like a good plan."

"Uh, I don't know. I've never had a massage."

"Then you're in for a treat," Glenna tells him, as Leon sets up the table. "Get undressed and hop up, face down." She holds out a sheet. "Throw that over your butt if you're bashful." She turns away as if expecting to be obeyed, which she does, and fiddles with the microwave beside the stove. She lowers the power, nukes the oil for ten seconds, swirls, and tests the oil on her wrist, as if she was warming up milk for a baby, and nukes it again. She catches a glimpse of Liam's naked ass as he flips the sheet over it. She winks at Matt, who smiles and winks back.

"Here, honey, let me adjust that," she whispers as she stoops to adjust the table. "You comfy?"

Matt hears a muffled "yes". Glenna nods.

"I'm going to put a drop of oil on your shoulder. Tell me if it's too hot, okay, sugar?"

"Yeah."

Glenna inverts the bottle of oil and allows a drop of oil to fall onto the back of Liam's shoulder. "How's that?"

"Good."

"Matt, be a dear and microwave some water in a plastic bowl big enough for this to sit in," she waves the bottle of oil at Matt. "I hope you like sandalwood. We've fallen out the practice of massaging each other." She pauses and glances at her husband. "Why is that Lee?" She doesn't wait for an answer but turns her attention back to Liam. "I used to have a beautiful ceramic bowl. I don't know where it's gotten to, but I'd warm it up first, warm the oil and pour it in. The bowl held the heat and being open, the aroma filled the room." She turns to Leon again. "Kent was right; we should offer massages."

She moves toward the foot of the table. Matt places the bowl of warm water on the small table. The cabin is small, there's hardly room for the four of them and the massage table. He rests his butt on the counter and watches as Glenna folds the sheet up, halving it, pulling it, halving it, until it is just wide enough to cover Liam's butt. He feels a stir between his legs.

"Liam, I'm going to let Lee show Matt how to do your back. He's the one with the training. While he and Matt work on your back, I'll do your legs. That okay with you?"

The "sure" from the head of the table, muffled as it is, conveys a decided lack of conviction.

"You start, Lee."

Leon nods at his wife. "Matt, step closer. You're going to do most of the work."

He has Matt feel the oil, warns him to always make sure it's well mixed, and tells him to squirt some onto Liam's back. Matt tips the bottle and a few drops fall onto the small of Liam's back.

"More than that, son," Leon chuckles. "Here, let me show you." He inverts the bottle and squeezes a generous amount of oil onto Liam's back. The room begins to smell of sandalwood.

"Rub it around with your hands, gently, this is just to coat the skin with oil."

Matt's hand moved the oil over Liam's back.

"Good," Leon offers. "Here's the area where your back is sore, right?" He points to the small of Liam's back, eyes on Matt, who nods.

"On you, we'll work that area last, so that's what we'll do with Liam. Always work toward the center and then from the center out, move the toxins to the heart and lungs, let them do their work, and move it back to the muscles." He squirts some oil on his hands. "Like this. Normally, I'd start just above his gluts but let's start higher, above the site of the injury."

Leon walks Matt through the massage, demonstrating the strokes, then stepping back. Everyone in the room can see the tension leave Liam's body. When Leon asks him to roll over, he starts to protest. Glenna rests a hand on his head and whispers that it's okay in his ears. Matt and Leon finish Liam's massage, ignoring the way his cock has pushed the sheet back, just as they ignore the way their own dicks strain beneath their shorts. Glenna watches, enraptured by the sights before her:

Liam, young, confused, frustrated, his vulnerability making him achingly beautiful. She'd love to touch him, taste him, put him inside her. Surely, he won't mind if she wipes the precum off the head of his dick and sample his taste? She doesn't move. She's wise enough to understand that doing so would destroy the moment.

Matt, a goddamn Greek statue of kid, the kind of over the top good looking man she normally hates but he's as pretty on the inside as he is on the outside, wicked smart, wicked funny, yet still disarmingly afraid he'll do something wrong, frighten Liam off. She wants to take both of them in her arms, comfort them with her body.

Her husband? For the first time the idea of him with another man doesn't roil her stomach.

She sits. She watches. She appreciates and cherishes.

Liam appears to be in a trance when he rolls off the table. Glenna feels the wetness between her thighs as she moves to check the temperature of the oil. Matt pulls off his shorts and climbs onto the table. She sees him wince as he uses his arms to lower his body. His cock, hard, throbbing, head glistening, causes every muscle in her belly to tighten.

Liam, cock jutting, stands beside the massage table, unmoving, until Leon tells him to put oil on Matt's back. He has him feel where the muscles are tense and knotted. His voice is the same steady, unexcited murmur she's grown accustom to but she can see how hard it is for him to maintain the façade. She doesn't need the bulge in his shorts to tell her he's on a hair trigger.