Swim Team Ch. 05 - Stanley

"Not that cherry," Jake said, hand waving. Stanley and Paolo giggled, both taking a drink.

My cock bobbed under the silky shorts when he touched the tip through them. Audibly, I sucked air through my nose. Stanley and his dad argued over the number of questions he had left. Jake claimed the question the drink cherry didn't count, Stanley disagreed and won; seven left.

Jake turned to me, clarifying, "I mean ~your~ cherry," he asked.

"Oh, uh, no. No." I said.

Behind my calves, Stanley reached into the leg of my shorts and squeezed the tip. My eyes widened, and I pulled his hand out by the intruding wrist. He shot me a puppy face, his bottom lip protruding and fat.

The strawberry blond Dad asked me to clarify.

"Well, uh, I suppose, I don't know. I'm a little, uh, curious maybe." I said, uncertainty in my inflection.

"So, I've never tried but, someday, I guess," momentarily quiet, I introspected. "Yeah," I confirmed, nodding my head.

"Cool, I remember those days," Stanley's dad said. "You need the right person to get into it, someone who cares if they hurt you."

"Mijo, why not you?"

Stanley scoffed, "Papa, it's better to start, "he paused as though gathering the right words. "Well, to start small."

I took another swig of my drink, and the tension in my neck was dissolving.

Paolo huffed, "Fottuto spreco." He took a sip of wine, arms crossed, eyes-rolling.

"Papa, stop it. Not everyone is like you." Stanley responded. "Ok, five more."

"What? I didn't ask that one," Jake said.

Stanley folded his arms, making a face that said I-don't-give-a-fuck.

"Ugh, ok," Jake conceded. "You know if you're gay or bi or, uh, you not sure yet?" he asked.

To Stanley's eyes, I looked, my neck finally able to twist, "Uh, I think I'm gay, but I'd like to try sleeping with, uh--a girl, I think."

"Find cougar," Paolo said, bringing the tilted glass to his lips.

Jake's face whipped to him, "Sh," then to me. "So a little straight curious, huh?" Ja asked with upward inflection and smirk spreading into his cheeks.

"Uh, yeah, I guess you could, uh, say that," I replied.

"All gay here," Paolo said, his boy and him raising their glasses and taking a drink.

Then he slowly stroked the silk over my shaft. As it reacted, it pushed lower down into the shorts' leg.

My gaze targeted Jake. "What about you?"

Stanley yelled, "Four more."

Jake rolled his eyes.

"I want to watch Mean Girls with Bret, ok?" Stanley said.

In acquiescence, Jake nodded, "Was married to a woman once."

"Really?" I asked, incredulous. Over to Stanley, I spun my face, studying his expression to detect some kind of joke, but nothing.

The cool air stirred over my exposed cock head; Stanley caressed my glands with the end of his forefinger. In response, my body tensed again--the fear of getting caught, both excited and horrified.

The ginger dad continued, "Yeah, no kids, thank God, but I tried to make it work." Jake took a swig. "I fucked her, yeah, I did, and, uh, ate her out, ya know, usual husbandly duties."

Bourbon in my cheeks, I swallowed, "Wow."

"Did you love her?" I asked, then my chest tightened, thinking that question might have been over a line.

"Yea," he said, his chin resting on his wrist. "And I still do, in a way. She's since remarried." He drained what remained of the old-fashioned.

He said, "I'm happy for her."

"You talk still?"

Stanley pinched the muscle above my knee and interjected, watching Jake, "Yeah, they do. Sometimes we'll go to their Fourth of July cookouts, or they'll come to ours."

"One more question, that's it," Stanley said. "Make it count."

His hand now gripped the head of my dick, stroking ever so slightly.

"Ok, here's an easy one, I hope," Jake started. "What kind of work are you doing and want to do?"

"That's two questions, Dad," Stanley said, his eyebrows furrowed.

"It might have one answer, though," his dad said.

Paolo and Stanley rolled their eyes, sighing.

My heart and breath froze when I remembered the man in the station wagon. Would he call me? Would it keep happening? I had no idea. It hadn't been twenty-four hours since he propositioned me. What would he say if I told him I was out? Losing my virginity to a paying customer wasn't precisely the fairytale, but would I lose it any other way? I wanted to fuck someone and watch them enjoy it. Could I expect that under different circumstances? I didn't know.

"I, uh, that isn't an easy question to, uh, answer, actually," I said my mind searched for something, anything acceptable, true or not, "Um, I mean, I do odd jobs, uh, like mowing lawns, and, uh, trimming hedges, and, uh, um, you know, stuff like that."

"You should trim our hedges, Bello." Stanley's papa suggested.

"You want to fire Ted?" Stanley and Jake asked at once, both their faces suddenly directed at Paolo.

"No, no, but Bret could help."

"Bret, it's not that I don't believe you do quality work," Jake explained. "Ted just does an excellent job, and I wouldn't want to cut into his pay or piss him off. You know what I mean?"

Paolo muttered, looking away from us.

"Right, my dear?" Jake shot a look at Paolo.

Facing spinning back to me, he added, "Still, if you needed money, we could find something. I don't know, uh, maybe like a houseboy?"

Paolo and Stan immediately responded with opposite answers, Stanley in the negative.

"Bret isn't going to be our houseboy," he said, insistent.

"Why not?" Jake asked.

"No, no more questions. It's over, done. If you're good dads, we'll do this again sometime."

Jake pressed his lips together, brows pushed low.

From the side table, Stanley grabbed the remote and started Mean Girls, not looking over at his parents.

By the time Kady met 'the plastics,' the last swell of bourbon had slid down my throat, and my head leaned against Stanley's shoulder, my eyelids struggling to stay open.

As I dozed in and out, Stanley continued his attentions on my semi-hard cock. His trimmed bare chest against mine was so warm and weakening.

A version of "Dancing with Myself" played as I, only marginally conscious, felt Stanley pull my arm over his shoulder. Thru blurred vision, I might have been dreaming; he brought me closer to his dads before lifting the silky fabric covering my lengthened shaft. A fist gripped and shook it; then a different hand did the same, I think. It wasn't clear to me.

The buzz of my phone woke me up; I was naked next to Stanley in bed. I fumbled for my cell; it flew onto the floor, rolling and flipping to the wall, still vibrating. Then, finally, I reached it and pressed the answer button, only to hear the line close.

"Fuck," I said.

It vibrated again, "Unknown" and 1:15 AM flashed on the screen.

I clicked answer again.