Swim Team Ch. 07 - Dads' Pets

"Does that make me gay?" Keith asked.

It wasn't clear if he wanted me to answer, more like internal musings spoken aloud. Words eluded me. I wanted so badly to say something that would help, but my thoughts were blank.

"The idea of, um, sucking another guy's, uh," he looked up at the ceiling, perhaps searching for words like I was, "it just doesn't appeal to me."

"I don't think you're gay," I said.

He twisted his neck, meeting my eyes for the first time in a while.

"It's gonna, uh, feel good, right?" I said. "I mean, is there any difference in, uh, a guy's or, uh, a girl's mouth?"

"There might be; it felt different," Keith said.

Keith mumbled something.

"Huh?"

He chuckled; I said, "Yours felt better than my ex's, and even that was, you know, awesome."

"Are you even sure you're gay?" he asked.

"Uh, no. I'm not, uh, sure," I answered. "I mean, uh, I don't know. I know that, uh, I liked, uh, you know, what I did, with your, uh." There was a rush of heat to my face.

"I wish my ex had liked that," he peered up at the screen. "But she didn't. So we didn't do much of anything. A hand job a couple of times, kissing, some over-the-clothes stuff, and a blowjob once."

"What makes you like it so much?" Keith asked me.

My throat tightened. "Uh, I don't, uh," my voice was hoarse and dry.

The door swung open. "Hey guys, sorry it took me so long," Stanley said.

He carried a bottle of Coconut Malibu Rum. "I had to wait for my dads to be between massages so I could sneak this."

Triumphant, he smiled, then he looked at us and frowned.

"What were you two talking about?" Keith asked.

"I, uh, we uh," I tried.

"We were just talking about why he's never played Halo," Keith lied. "And it got a little, um, real."

"Oh, because Bret is poor?" Stanley said.

Keith slapped Stanley's shoulder.

Heat rushed to my face, my brows dipping over my eyes.

"What the fuck, man, not cool," Keith said.

"Hey, I'm just kidding; I didn't, uh, you know, didn't mean anything by it," Stanley said.

"Jesus, that weak shit, man," Keith added.

"Ok, sorry, fuck. I'm sorry," said Stanley, wanting to appease Keith more than he was remorseful.

There was a silence.

"So shall we play?" Stanley asked.

"Yeah," Keith answered, grabbing, then throwing him a black controller with various colored buttons on it.

Keith looked back at me. "You wanna try to play?" he asked.

"I uh, I don't know, I don't know how to play," I tried, not wanting to play.

"We'll teach you," Stanley offered.

Another controller landed on the bed, bouncing in front of me.

They turned off the lights, and the screen divided unequally.

Stanley joined me on the bed; Keith sat on his desk chair at the foot of the bed.

I was terrible, always killing my character, running in circles, or getting stuck on walls. Then, just as I was getting some semblance of my bearings, Stanley spoke. "Who wants a shot?"

"Me," Keith said.

Then Stanley looked at me; I nodded.

"To teammates getting tanked," Stanley said, lifting the tiny glass above his head, then clinking against Keith's, who mirrored him. Fuck, why did he have to say tank? A shiver ran down my spine, flashes of snakes flickered in my mind.

We all gulped the shot down. The rum was sweet but burned a little, coating my mouth and throat.

I smacked, looking at the empty glass.

"How d'you like it, Bret?" Stanley asked.

"Uh, not bad," I answered, still staring at the glass.

Stanley lifted the white bottle. "Another?" he asked.

"Yeah. Bret, you should have another one, it'll relax you. Calm you down," Keith said.

I extended my arm to Stanley. He filled my glass, then Keith's, then his.

We all clinked our glasses this time; some spilled on his quilt, another shot down the hatch.

Back to Halo. I could go straight and turn but still never managed to kill anyone or even hit them.

Jeers, laughs, groans, and curses lobbed when one would hit the other.

"Mmm, I'm feelin' the booze a bit," Stanley said, licking his lips. "What if whoever dies has to take a shot?" he proposed.

"What?" I gasped. "I'll be like, uh, face down on the floor in, uh, like five minutes," I said.

"Is that an argument for or against?" Stanley asked, looking me up and down with a sly grin.

Keith interjected, "You can take a shot if you want when one of us does."

"So, we're starting?" Stanley asked.

"Get ready to be murdered," Keith answered, confident.

Stanley died twice at Keith's character's hand. For the second one, Stanley asked me to take a shot with him. I did. There was some kind of limit or threshold on kills, 10, I think. That seemed like a lot of shots to me.

After another four shots, Keith struggled to get more kills.

Stanley had at least as many but lit up Keith's character over and over.

"Fuck man, I can't drink anymore," Keith said.

"Me either," I agreed.

"Fine," Stanley said, killing Keith again. "Just take something off when you die then."

"What?" Keith responded, defiant. "No," he said.

"Then you have to take a shot," Stanley said, equally defiant.

"I'm not gonna ta--"

Stanley interrupted Keith's protest. "I know you sleep nude, Keith. Just start getting ready for bed with each time I murder your ass," said Stanley.

Keith was quiet, perhaps considering.

My cock hardened.

Over to Stanley, I rotated to see if he noticed the pipe down my pant leg. It was dark, and he gave no indication he had.

An explosion from the screen, "Take it off, you whore," Stanley bellowed at Keith.

A knock at the door. "Boys, keep it down in there. Your sisters and brother are going to bed.

"Sorry, Mrs. Dobson," Stanley answered the woman behind the door.

"Don't stay up too late," the woman added.

"We won't," Keith and Stanley responded in unison.

"Here," Keith said, spinning a sock over his head then letting it drop to the carpet.

"What? A sock? That's it?" Stanley said as another explosion sounded from the screen.

"Woooooop!" Keith cheered.

Stanley whipped off his shirt. "See, that's how I roll." He threw it at Keith, that wrapped around his head. Keith tore it off.

Defiant, Keith removed his other sock when his character died again.

Another kill, "Fuck," Keith said, removing his shirt.

"That's right, take it off, baby," Stanley jeered, sticking out his tongue.

After the next, Keith stood and removed his shorts.

Stanley whistled.

"Shut up, man," Keith hissed. "My mom is gonna kick you out."

Stanley chuckled.

Keith's character flew through the air on-screen, marking the end of their match.

"Victory!" Stanley stretched his arms straight up.

"Ok, it's getting late, guys, and I'm drunk," Keith retreated to the bed, covering the pouch of his briefs.

He gestured for me to scoot over, then he lifted the sheets and discarded his underwear onto the floor.

"As if we've never seen it," Stanley said.

"I just need to get to sleep," Keith said.

"Me too," I agreed, stretching into a yawn.

It wasn't clear when, but my eyes popped open later, and they both slept on each side of me, Keith right, Stanley, left.

Again, Keith had kicked off his sheets, the moonlight exposing his athletic body and hard-on.

Without thinking, I patted Stanley's bare stomach. He snorted awake. "What?" he said, then noticed exactly what.

"Did you pull his covers off?" Stanley said, accusing.

"No," I insisted.

I reached over and squeezed Stanley's semi-hard cock through his underwear.

"Hey, hey, we can't," he protested.

"Sh, he looks deep in sleep, just, uh, keep quiet," I started to pet his cock with my palm.

"I, uh, wanna, uh, practice," I said, a smile stretching across my face.

Into his briefs, my hand plunged. I pulled out his swelling cock.

With my elbows, I lifted, bending at my hips, my face positioning over his meaty shaft.

From the base, I manipulate his cock to my mouth.

Stanley gasped as I forced his shaft deep down my throat.

The bed starts to rock as my head rides him.

"Oh, my god, Bret, fuck," Stanley whispers, repressing his impulse to be loud.

I pushed my hips off the mattress and swung them slowly and pivoting from knee to knee over Stanley's leg keeping his cock in my mouth. Between his legs, I pulled down his pants and underwear one side at a time. He lifted his hips, helping.

My palm grips his sack. I swallow him, opening my throat wide until my lips press against his pelvis.

He twitches and writhes, sucking air through his teeth. I bet he's close.

I pulled off his shaft and noticed him staring at Keith's exposed sleeping body.

"Have you ever, uh, touched it?" I asked, whispering.

"What, no." Stanley hissed as quietly as he could.

"So, you never, uh, like wondered--"

"Of course I have," he hissed again, looking back over Keith's sleeping form.

"I just--I just--never asked him, the opportunity never--," Stanley trailed off, the gears in his head spinning.

Stanley pulled his pants back up and reached toward Keith, but to my surprise, he shook him.

"Keith," he whispered loudly.

Keith jumped with a gasp. "Who? What? What's happening." he said.

His face turned to mine, me in between Stanley's legs.

"Sh, you kicked off your covers, man. I promise we didn't do that," Stanley said.

"Oh, uh, um, it's ok," Keith said, pulling the covers back over his hips.

"I'm drunk, and we're drunk, and we're messing around next to you; I don't know, I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"Hey, Stan," Keith cleared his throat, "I know you've always really been protective of, uh, our friendship and stuff."

"Yeah, man, you're my best friend; I don't want anything about that to change," Stanley said.

They both looked at each other, becoming visibly more anxious as the length of silence grew.

"I'm just happy for you, ya know?" Keith said.

"Well, thanks, man, you've always been cool with things. Supportive, and shit, ya know?" Stanley trailed off.

Keith cleared his throat again, "Yeah, I guess, you know man, maybe I feel like a little jealous--not of like you and Bret, or you and any--but um, like, jealous you're like way better at being gay than I am at being straight or like more successful at it or whatever."

Stanley squinted but gave a slight nod.

"I don't know, I guess, I like, feel left ou--or like wish I could like, ya know, be closer. But, like, it's hard to explain. You're like my best friend, and I love you, and I'd do anything for you, ya know, but like I'm straight and like you've always been so respectful, but I think what I'm saying is, why didn't we ever, ya know, like try anything?"

Keith glanced up once, then dropped his eyes to the bed.

No breath, no movement. Stanley stared at Keith, his mouth slightly open.

Stanley tried to talk, but his voice cracked his words horse, "Keith, I love you too," he swallowed and took a breath, standing on a cliff's edge, deciding to jump or not into an obscured below. "Is it too late?"

Keith met Stanley's eyes again, "I hope not," he said in a low, quiet voice.

My heart drummed in my chest, and I didn't understand what was happening. Should I leave? Did they need to be alone?

Stanley reached across the bed and pinched the sheet Keith had covered himself with, and drew it off and exposing him again.

"Are you sure you're not going to regret this tomorrow, Keith?"

"I'm not sure about anything lately, but I trust you. If I'm going to try, I want it to be, you know, with you uh, um, yeah." Keith said.

I interrupted, "Hey, guys, um, I'm thinking, uh, I should probably, uh, go."

They looked at me then at each other.

"Stay, Bret," Stanley said.

"Yeah, stay. If," he coughed, "I, um, chicken out, like help Stan, you know?"

Stanley hopped off the bed after he tucked his cock deeper into his pants. Then, around the foot of the bed, he walked. Our eyes followed him.

When he reached Keith's side of the bed, he kneeled next to him.

"We can stop whenever you want," Stanley said. "Lay down."

Keith trembled, his eyes wide at the ceiling, then smashed shut, then popped open again.

The situation was odd; I didn't know how to read it. Is Keith putting on a show? Was he trying to squash the chance that Stanley would find out about me, us? And if he did, would it minimize how much it would matter, if at all? Was he really questioning? Did I spur that? Would either of them be interested in me if Keith wanted more?

Stanley placed a palm on Keith's stomach, "You ok?"

Keith nodded his head, his eyes toggling between tight shut and wide open.

Down past his navel, Stanley slides slowly down towards Keith's junk. His cock was so hard, the head and most of the shaft hovered above his body. When the bridge between Stanley's thumb and fingers touched the top of the base of his shaft, he gasped with erratic breaths.

He covered his mouth; eyes smashed closed.

"You ok?" Stanley asked.

He nodded, a hand clinging over his mouth.

Next, he made a fist around Keith's shaft.

A squeal burst from beneath his hand, Keith's eyes popped open, then snapped shut again.

The stroking started very slow, almost imperceptible.

A moan vibrated from Keith's throat.

Stanley checked again, "Are you sure you're ok, Keith? We can stop. I won't be upset or anything."

Keith removed his hand from his mouth but kept his eyes closed, "I'm ok."

"You want me to keep doing this, or do you want more?"

He opened his eyes again, looked at his cock in Stanley's hand, then Stanley's face, then mine, "Um." Eyes snapped closed again, "Keep, uh, ya, keep going, more."

To his feet, Stanley rose and planted his knees one at a time between Keith's legs.

Keith's breath altered, in through the nose, then through rounded, puckered lips, a whoosh.

Mouth wide, Stanley pulled Keith's balls into his mouth. Keith winced and moaned, his hand returning over his mouth.

My cock throbbed and pinched inside my pants. I unzipped them and pulled it out, and started to pump with my hand.

Stanley licked and sucked on Keith's sack while gently stroking the shaft.

"You o--,"

"Mm-hm, keep going," Keith assured, his voice breathy.

Balls released, Stanley suspended his face over Keith's engorged purple head, a puddle of pre-cum spreading blow the tip of his cock.

I licked my lips and stroked my cock faster, my breath laboring.

Mouth wide again, he descended until his friend's shaft disappeared, his nose touching Keith's stomach, then he closed his lips.

Keith jolted and yelled under his palm, eyes clamped.

Between Stanley's legs, I pushed my head and shoulders through then flipped to my back. When he felt me, Stanley spread his legs wider. From Keith's cock, his mouth separated, but he continued to pump it with a hand. Then he stood on his knees, looking down at me and helping me tug his pants low. Stanley's cock jumped out of his underwear and flung a cold string of pre-cum on my face. I took it by both hands and drew it close to my face while Stanley bent to savor Keith in his mouth again.

From side to side and up and down, Stanley twisted his mouth around the shaft. From below, I sucked and licked Stanley's pulsing dick. The sweat of his muscular hairy body permeated the air, his cock so generous with pre-cum, so thick, smooth, and meaty. I devoured him without minding the saliva running down both my cheeks.

More, I wanted more of him in me, down my throat. The position would not allow it. With one hand, I stroked Stanley, milked him, and with the other, I caressed, tugged, and stretched his sack against his balls.

Stanley began to hum notes, each higher than the other. His taint spasmed. I rubbed it. His cock spat streams of cum over and over onto my tongue. I swallowed, choked, then swallowed again.

"Mm-mmm," I said, pressing the knuckle of my thumb from the bottom of his urethra to his hole, drinking every drop.

"Oh, my god, Stan, I'm gonna cum," Keith said, hissing, trying to stay quiet but not succeeding.

"Mmhm, Mmhm, Mmhm, Mmhm, Mmhm," Stanley signaled, he wanted to swallow.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, oh, shit, fuck," Keith's stomach flexed, lifting his whole upper body, and just as suddenly, he collapsed flat on the bed, letting out a sigh.

"Fucking hell, Stan," Keith swallowed, wheezing. "That's not fucking fair."

"What isn't?" Stanley asked.

"How fucking mind-shattering that was," Keith answered.

Stanley let out a low, sinister chuckle at first, then they both laughed.

I hadn't come yet. Did they even remember I was there?

They both looked over at me like they'd heard my thought.

Stanley asked me to come to the bed, and he laid down on his back, his head tilting back off the edge. He opened wide.

I stepped toward his face, aiming my cock down his throat. The warmth of his breath wafted over my cock head. I licked my lips and swallowed, entering his mouth.

Keith, still bare, climbed to the foot of the bed and studied us.

When I reached the back of the throat, Stanley closed his lips around me. I pushed deeper and deeper. Half of my shaft penetrated his eager wet mouth. I thought of Keith's cum still fresh in him, coating every surface my dick touched. Fresh blood pumped into my cock, tightening the skin and the fit down Stanley. He moaned, Keith gaped. Deeper, I nudged into Stanley. I asked him if he was ok, he made a thumbs up. On each side of his face, I wrapped my hands, gaining leverage against his throat, boring deeper. Both Keith and I gaped. I had but two inches yet, without a prompt, Keith gave another thumbs up. With all my strength, I forced my cock all the way in, breathing quickly. His throat was so tight and warm around me. I felt his tongue lapping at the base and around my short, light brown pubes. I came right then, squirts of cum sprayed deep into Stanley under the heavy pressure of my throat. My entire body flexed and moved with each pulse of my orgasm. Finally, I'd gone balls deep, and it was even better than I'd imagined.

I slipped out of Stanley. He swallowed and wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

"Shit, man," Keith gasped. "How did you do that? How did you take that whole thing? Shit! Fucking sword swallower. Bret, like, what does it feel like, having such a, uh, big, uh."

"Well, uh, it was like amazing," I said. "I've never done that before, uh, like gone all the way."

"Fuck, I feel like overwhelmed and uh, a bit intimidated," Keith said. "Like, I can't imagine what it felt like for either of you."

"Don't worry about it, Keith," Stanley said. "How do you feel?"

"I, um, I'm not sure. Uh, I feel weak, uh, a little scared, but excited. My heart is beating so fast right now," Keith answered.

"I just want you to feel ok. What do you need?" Stanley asked.

"Shit, I don't know. A do-over for the last four years," Keith laughed. Stanley and I smiled.

Suddenly, Keith went quiet, his eyes wondering. "You guys, like, won't tell anyone, right?"

"Of course not," Stanley said, and I nodded, looking at Keith, then Stanley, then Keith again.

"What you, uh, did, Stanley, that fucking blew my mind, but I, uh, don't know what it means, you know?" Keith said, trying to explain.

"It just means you like getting head," Stanley smiled, approaching Keith and giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "And just so you're clear, I think I loved it just as much as you did."

"Nah, not possible, man," Keith protested.

We all laughed.

I gathered my clothes and put them back on.

"You're not leaving, are you?" Keith asked.

"Well, I don't know, uh, if you'd like to, uh, talk things out with Stan--"

"If you can, can you both stay? I want some rest and don't want to be alone right now. Does that make sense?"

Stanley clapped his shoulder and nodded at his friend.

All three of us climbed onto Keith's king-sized bed and spooned.