Swim Team Ch. 08 - With a Little...

Stanley took a deep breath and gave us each a questioning look.

"That makes, uh, sense," I said. "I can see why, you know, he waited."

"Yeah," Keith agreed. "I wish ~I~ had." He chuckled.

I still had questions. I had to ask before Keith lightened the mood.

"Did he, uh, like it?"

"Well," Stanley cocked his head to one side and closed one eye. "He told me he was glad he waited, but he wasn't into it. Only when he started dating Papa did he gain an appreciation."

"That's like, uh, kind of sweet," I said.

Stanley smiled, as if seen for the first time.

"What else did you two, uh, talk about?" I asked.

"Jesus, Bret, when did you become the inquisitor?" Stanley asked.

"Oh, uh, sorry, sorry, I don't know. You don't have to, have to answer that. I, uh, guess I'm just curious," I floundered.

He analyzed my face, pressing his mouth firmly closed. Then he crinkled his brow, eyes shifting down.

His voice started low. I leaned in. "Jake and I talked late into the night. I finally got the courage to ask, to ask him."

I held my breath. Keith stared.

"Ask him to, uh, to, uh," he swallowed hard again and went horse. "To be my first."

"Oh my god," Keith and I said in unison.

My cock bounced again, but they didn't notice.

"Crazy right?" Stanley said.

"Crazy? No, uh, I just can't, uh, imagine wanting, uh, my dad to uh, gross," I said.

Keith exaggerated a nod in agreement, "Seriously man," then he stopped nodding and then shook his head, "Jake seems more like a close friend more than, like, your dad. I mean, you look nothing like him," Keith paused again and rubbed his chin, staring downward before looking back at Stanley. "I mean, if there was a chick who wasn't my mom or sister--"

"What did he say?" I blurted.

Stanley chuckled and cleared his throat again. "He said he was flattered, Yada, Yada, Yada. He was telling me 'no,' but was nice about it."

"Oh," I said, trying to mask my surprising but profound disappointment.

My eyes met Stanley's. I thought that was it, but he continued.

"It took me a while to understand because it seemed perfect to my horny teenage brain. He wasn't my bio parent. He'd be gentle, and I knew he wasn't big, like six inches and not too thick."

"Wait, how did you--," I tried to ask.

"I'm serious. No subjects were off-limits," they chuckled, but only Keith turned red.

"I asked him, that's how," Stanley answered.

The images of Stanley's dads naked and fucking each other triggered new swelling. I wouldn't mind losing my virginity to either of them, especially Jake. He was so tall, strong-looking, stylishly dressed, and his thick, dark red hair, so sexy. Plus, who wants to get rammed by a huge one their first time? I didn't.

"I admire and appreciate Jake so much," Stanley said. "Our connection is special, you know? I'd do anything for him, and except that once, he'd do anything."

Keith nodded in agreement, "Hey man, I get it. I'd tell Jake things I'd never tell my parents, I mean, the, uh, you know."

Stanley licked his teeth and swallowed again, his throat dry and voice horse. Both of them had shared a secret, but not me. Stanley had more to reveal. I could feel it. Maybe if--

"I uh, have, uh, a secret, uh, a secret too," I said, my voice cracking.

They examined me, Keith raising his eyebrows.

Throat tight and dry, I said, "My mom--she, uh, she is, well she's in prison."

"Oh my god," Stanley said, his voice high, incredulous. "Don't take this wrong, but when you started I thought you were going to say she'd molested you or something and, uh now I'm sort of relieved."

"Yeah, she uh, possession, they got her for possession," I told them.

Initially, the police arrested her on prostitution charges and only found the drugs during the search and seizure.

"Holy shit, though, man," Stanley shook his head, then looked me straight in the eyes with earnest concern, "How long has she been in? When is her release?"

"Um, it's been, uh, six years now, uh, yeah, six with four left," I said.

"Damn, that sucks," Keith said.

"Yeah, for sure, I can't imagine," Stanley agreed.

"It was, I mean, it still is, but, uh, I guess you get," my voice softening with each word. "Uh, used to it and, you know, make do and--."

"Jesus, man," Keith said. "So it's been just you and your dad since?"

"Yeah, well, I mean, he is there, but not like, there-there. He's usually asleep but, uh, he reminds me he's physically there, uh," my hands shook, my voice modulated, and throat pulled tighter after each 'or.' "You know, uh, with a yell or a slap or a punch."

"Fuck man, your dad?" Keith asked.

"Uh, yeah," I said, with some defensiveness. "Doesn't everybody's?"

"No," Stanley and Keith answered loudly in unison.

Stanley continued, "That's not ok, that's, that's abuse."

My blood pressure rose. Of all the things I shared, I was least concerned about that detail. I thought it was just what parents did.

They both stared, looking as though they were seeing a different person. I wanted to hide, cover myself with something.

Voice weak, I added, "It sucked, but I don't want to talk about it." Surprising myself with the flow of my words.

"Ok, ok, I--I understand," Stanley said. "Just know that no one is allowed to hurt you. It's never ok."

Keith and Stanley nodded their heads and clapped my shoulders.

I cleared my throat, "What, uh, else, uh, what else happened with Jake?"

"What makes you think something happened?" Stanley asked.

"I'm, uh, not sure. I just feel like there's more," I answered.

"So, there's more, but uh--" Stanley started.

"Come on, just tell us, we're all sharing here," Keith said.

"Ok, fine, shut up," Stanley said. "So, um, the night before my 18th birthday," Keith and I hummed in realization, then snickered.

"Guys, shut up. You want to hear this or not?" Stanley asked.

"Keep going," Keith encouraged.

"Ok, we were up late and talking again. Papa left an hour earlier. I rambled on and on, afraid he'd reject me again. Virginity was gone, but I still wanted Jake. And I--I told him so."

My mouth gaped, even though I'd figured that much out. "How did he, how did he, uh, what did he say?" I asked.

"He sat there for like a minute, just looking at me," Stanley answered. "It was terrifying. I'd walked up to the only boundary he'd set--again. But I was an adult now, looking more and more like his husband. And he loved me, I knew it."

"'Let me talk to your Papa,' is all he said before walking away. Every step he took stomped on my chest. I, uh, um, couldn't hold the tears back."

Stifled with emotion, Stanley's voice wavered.

My lungs gripped my breath.

"Upstairs, I heard Papa's voice. He was loud, like always, but didn't sound upset. They both returned together, standing side-by-side."

Stanley trembled.

"'Mijo,'" Papa said, "'Jake told me,' glancing over at his redheaded partner, then back to me, 'You're both men, work it out,' then he just when back upstairs."

Stanley reached around to his shoulder blade and scratched, rocking his hips back and forth.

Silence echoed around us.

I was bursting with questions. My shorts pulled tight, even where my cock head engorged, was obvious. With my forearm, I lean over it, trying to hide. I didn't want it to become the reason he didn't finish.

"That's not it," Keith declared, leaning back, giving his friend a side-eye.

"You're right," Stanley sighed, then closed his eyes. "He, um," he passed his fingers through his short black hair, "We, he did--we did it."

In an uproar of cheer, we dealt high fives with a snap, whooping.

"Shit, man. What was it like?" Keith asked, taking another shot.

"Well, it was, uh, it was amazing," Stanley answered. "I get chills thinking about it."

Stanley tilted his head upwards. "Yeah, he knew exactly what to do. He worked me up with the perfect amount of foreplay, licking my nipples, sucking me, and eating my ass. My god, the way he ate my ass, fucking hell, gets me hard just--Mmm. Then he lubed himself and my ass up good, guiding his dick slowly inside me. It felt, it felt incredible. He kissed me while we fucked. Every inch of my skin hummed," Stanley stopped, and shook his head at the ceiling, "It sounds cheesy, but, but I was magical."

"Jesus Christ, Stanley," Keith said. "I had no idea, uh, I'm, uh, afraid to admit, but that sounded hot."

"Yeah," I agreed, exposing a sliver of my throbbing shaft from beneath my forearm.

Stanley laughed and pointed at Keith's upper thigh, "You're fucking leaking in your shorts, bro!"

Keith went bright red and tried to cover.

Stanley looked at me.

"Come on, Bret, show us," Stanley said.

Keith spun his head to look.

I removed my forearm. They both smiled.

"Damn, boy," Keith said in a low hyper-masculine voice, "This is a gun-free zone. How d'you get past security?"

We howled with laughter.

Stanley stretched my direction and slid his hand over the bulge down my leg.

"Fuck, Bret. I wanna get fucked so bad," Stanley gushed, moistening his lips and staring at my covered cock.

"Well, uh," Keith started, but then stopped, looking away.

"What?" Stanley's face whipped to Keith and asked, "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, I'm drunk."

"It's fine," Stanley said. "Jake will take care of me."

"Wha--You two still fuck?" Keith asked.

"Just about whenever I ask, yeah."

"Holy shit, what does Paolo say?"

"They have an open relationship and he knows how generous Jake is in bed," Stanley giggled. "He once told me." He struggled to fit words between bursts of laughter. "You are learning what a real man is," Stanley laughed aloud, imitating his Papa's accent. "Never settle for less, Mijo."

Neither Keith nor I laughed, and we stared at Stan. "I feel like that's a super nice thing to say, to, uh, both of you," Keith said.

"Yeah, you're right. I should have more gratitude. I do feel pretty lucky. Papa can be over-protective but yeah, they're great."

Keith took yet another shot.

I forced a smile and tossed back my first.

"I'll do it," Keith said.

"Do what?" Stanley asked, a brow raised. "Exactly?"

"I'll, ya know, I'll try," Keith said, forming a circle with one hand, pushing his index finger through it with the other.

"Stop it, gross. No. That's like a big step," Stanley said, his tone inflected with skepticism. "You're not ready."

"Why do you say that?" Keith asked.

"C'mon, Keith. You had like a fucking existential crisis over a blow job just yesterday," Stanley said.

"I know, I know, but after, you know, what you said, plus it wouldn't be my first time," Keith struggled to articulate.

"No? You fucked her ass?" Stanley asked.

"Well, no," Keith admitted, his eyes wandering, then settling on the pipe in my pant leg.

"Didn't think so," Stanley said, pursing his lips and half-closing his eyes.

"What I'm saying is that I've fucked before," Keith said.

"It's different," Stanley said.

"I know. I think I wanna try. See if I like it."

"It's not a good idea," Stanley studied his face.

"C'mon, man, we're both horned up," Keith pleaded.

Stanley continued to stare at his friend's face, "Ok, but just don't get weird after. This doesn't mean anything, we're just helping each other out, ok? If you don't like it, fine."

Keith nodded.

Stanley bent forward over the bed's edge. "Easiest for you if I'm like this, huh?"

"Yeah, probably. But, uh, you don't need like, uh, any, uh warm up or anything?" Keith asked.

"Are you offering?" Stanley asked as he ripped his shorts and undies to his ankles.

Keith gulped. "Well, uh, no, not me, but, uh," he tried backpedaling.

"I'll do it," I offered.

"Thanks, man," Keith said, exhaling with relief. "Not quite ready for, you know."

Directly behind Stanley, I kneeled. I lifted both hands and massaged his cheeks. His anus flexed and puckered. From the depths of my lungs, I heaved hot breath over his ass.

Stanley hummed, his lips smacked.

I moved closer, extending my tongue, gliding from his perineum to orifice.

He gasped. Keith's faps audible behind me.

A soft, slow dry kiss, I planted firmly on his bud. Stanley whimpered.

Tongue wet, I gave his anus a firm swish, and a suctioned pop with my lips. I made out with his ass, kissing and diving into it like I would his mouth. He quivered and moaned. I reached under and squeezed his shaft tight. He squealed, breath loud and quick.

"Bret, Jesus, how did you--ah fuck, yeah, eat me! God!" His voice elevated, "Wait, wait, ok, stop," I pulled away. "Needed to stop, or this show's gonna end before it starts," Stanley said.

He spun to his feet then pulled my lips to his, ass fresh on my tongue. He moaned and purred, kissing like he was starving. His free hard-on rubbed against my clothed one. My skin seemed to vibrate under his touch, my cock flexed hard and tight, aching.

"Ok, Keith, you ready?" Stanley demanded more than asked.

He returned to his position over the bed.

"In the nightstand, top drawer," Keith pointed. "Lube."

I fetched the vial and squeezed a pool into his palm, then dripped some on the head of his dick. He rubbed it into his shaft.

"Not sure I'll need it after that, Bret, God! But here," Stanley gestured with a hand cupped between his legs.

I squeezed out another portion of lube into it.

Stanley smeared it on his cock, then hole, pushing inward with his middle finger.

Keith avoided looking but rubbed his slick shaft.

Keith tremored, approaching Stanley.

I dropped my pants and drizzled lube on my throbbing hard on, stroking it to the live show.

Keith reached Stanley, aligning his slick, shiny dick.

Stanley stroked faster and moaned when Keith penetrated.

Keith fucked slowly for three pumps then pounded Stanley mercilessly.

Keith grunted as he thrust. Stanley bit a finger with one hand and stroked quickly with the other.

The slapping grew loud. Keith pointed to the multi-disk player on his closet floor next to his shoes and under his hanging shirts and pants.

I froze trying to interpret the cascade of buttons and nobs.

"Blue button, glowing blue, button," Keith managed between grunts.

I pressed it. "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit punched through the speakers.

They both howled, "Yeah!"

Keith pounded Stanley so fast his hips blurred. Mouth opened, transfixed, I drank up the view of the hottest boy in school fucking the most popular. But flashes of Jake cut the scene, envisioning him on top of me. Not raw and animalistic like this, but gentle, sensitive.

As I closed my eyes, diving deep into the Jake fantasy, Keith grunted and moaned, pace slowing. Stanley followed, whining as he bit down on his finger. His jizz struck the bed skirt under the frame, dripping onto the shag.

Again, I sealed my eyes closed, visualizing Jake. My arms and shoulders flexed, growing sore as I stroked my greased-up cock. My eyes popped, cum flung across the room. Keith had to dodge.

"Shit," he said.

Stanley crawled onto the bed and rolled to his back, "Man, I needed that," he said.

Keith jumped and twisted in the air, landing parallel to Stan. They both rested there, quiet, arms to their sides, eyes half-open, cocks glistening.

At my watch, I looked, "10:12 PM."

"Shit," I said, fumbling through my pockets around my ankles.

"Something wrong?" Stanley asked.

"My dad, uh, called. Fuck!"

On my phone, "15 Missed Calls."

"Fuck," I said, putting a palm to my forehead.

The phone vibrated; I answered.

"Where the fuck are you?" Dwayne asked.

"Sorry, I--"

Again, Dwayne demanded, "Where the in the fuck are you?" in a deep growl.

"Uh, same, uh, place, same place."

The call ended.

"I have to go," I said.

"Everything ok?" Keith asked, propping up his naked torso up with both elbows.

"Everything is, uh, fine. It's fine," I answered, pulling my shorts up and grabbing my backpack.

As I walked out the door Stanley said, "Be safe, text me if you need anything, ok?"

I didn't respond.

Dwayne picked me up as before and screeched past Stanley's home. In the broad second-floor window, a light glowed, but there was no silhouette. The slithering snake flashed through my thoughts, I shuddered.

At the motel, Dwayne pushed me into the room and locked it.

Only ten minutes later, he entered again.

Dwayne said, "We got our first high dealer, boy."

I looked up at him from where I perched on the bed's corner, squinting.

"He paid full price for a fuck and dump, no condom."

I nodded, repeating the John's ask.

Dwayne disappeared, and a few minutes later the John stepped in.

I lept to my feet, my eyes large. Fear and confusion swirled in me.

He raised his forefinger to his mouth.

"That's your dad?" Paolo asked, whispering.

I gulped hard, "No, he's uh--"

"Thank God," Paolo whispered, exhaling in relief. "We must save you, Mijo, from this, from him."

My jaw clamped under my locked lips. What would Dwayne do if he found out? He knows, he knows where we live.

"Law Enforcement has been watching him, Bello," Stanley's Papa said. "Toughest is getting the victims to cooperate, roll on their pimp."

The word twisted in my gut. I'd hoped Dwayne would--I was lying to myself. He was my pimp, my pimp. He saved and kept all the money. My face flared with rage. All the stress, sleep deprivation, degradation, and fear for nothing. Then my skin chilled with dread.

"He can--will hurt us. He, uh, knows where you live," I said, averting my gaze.

"I know, Bello," Paolo said. "I saw him pick you up before, and again tonight."

"You were the--"

"Bello, listen to me, ok?" Paolo insisted.

I was silent, fixed on his lips.

"The police will come after I leave. Will you help?"

"What, what--?"

"I'll explain later, Bello. Will you help?"

"Uh," my mind raced. "Uh, yes."

"Fortissimo!" he said.

I swallowed my throat a desert. What had I just agreed to do? My mind raced with ways Dwayne might find me, pay me back.

Paolo sat next to me, "Povero ragazzo." He stroked the hair on one side of my head and gave me a dry kiss on the lips.

My brows hung low. I squinted, attempting to read him. There was pity in his expression. He took my hand in both of his, patting.

"Don't worry, Mijo. Jake and I will help you stay safe," he said. "Stanley told us."

"Told you what?"

"He told us about your Papà."

A spark of anger flashed in me but died as quickly.

I knew Stanley told his dads everything. That shouldn't shock or anger me.

"We need to make it seem like I got what I paid for," Paolo said.

Still clothed, He laid back, lifting his legs in the air.

He motioned for me to come closer.

When my groin pressed against him, I could sense his warmth through his thin navy blue dress pants; No hint of seams or intermediate layer, no underwear. More and more blood filled my shaft, thickening, lengthening.

When I dry humped his crack, he bellowed phrases, "Ti desidero dentro di me," "Fottimi più," "Hai un cazzo enorme."

"Dio mio, Bello. Fuck me," he wailed in a moaning whine.

I ran my hand over his groin; he was solid. Along his covered rod, I followed the shape up to the end with my fingers and palm.

"Oh, dio mio, che cazzo! Bello, fuck me!"

He was eager, not intimidated or hesitant. I wanted to, wanted to fuck him hard.

The bedsprings crinkled and boinged under my escalating thrusts. Paolo whimpered and howled.

"Ok, ok, Mijo," Paolo said. "Fuck, I almost came." His countenance changed. "Ok, stay here, rinse off. Say nothing to the cops, they'll bring you into custody. Wait for your lawyer before you say anything."

"My law--?" I interjected, he raised his voice for a symbol.

"Tell her all and she'll speak to the authorities for you. Comprendere?"

"Yes, Paolo," I said.

"Per favore Mijo, call me Papà, sì?" pleading in his look.