The Way Forward: Forward 2i1x6f

THE WAY FORWARD ____________________

FORWARD

BEN RICARDO

The Way Forward Copyright © 2021 by Ben Ricardo

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN 978-1-955205-59-7 (Hardcover) 978-1-955205-58-0 (Paperback) 978-1-955205-57-3 (eBook)

The irony doesn’t occur to Jo until much later, but he’s standing in the screw aisle when she finds him. He takes in her dyed hair, tight clothes, and acrylic nails and the lines around her eyes and breaks out in an involuntary smile. A fading scar stands out in the middle of her cleavage, just over her breastbone. He notices it, even though he tries not to look. “Hey, darlin’,” she purrs, and her voice is much deeper than he expected. Probably a smoker. He blinks and pays close attention as she goes on to explain what she needs. They chat as he leads her to the correct section of the hardware store. Polite inquiries come first, the type he often gets from older women: “How long have you worked here? Do you like it?” Then she slips in the slightly more unusual “You married?” He shakes his head at her, ducking his chin. “No, ma’am. Don’t even have a girlfriend.” His tiny hope, barely more than a glimmer at the back of his mind, crushes neatly under her next words: her husband is building a porch in their backyard, hence her presence at the store. Jo sends her off with an inaudible sigh. An older man finds Jo in the aisle with the Tupperware. Jo takes in huge shoulders, lines around deep-set blue eyes, aviator shades hanging from the front of the older man’s black T-shirt, a cloying smell of Old Spice, fading tattoos crawling up muscular arms, and heavy-fingered hands holding two types of sandpaper. Jo answers the man’s questions, obedience sneaking into his voice before he even realizes what he’s doing. Sweat prickles along his spine and scalp, especially when the big man slaps him on the back and smiles, his touch lingering along Jo’s nape. Thankfully, it’s a hot day outside, with a temperature in the nineties, so the older man shouldn’t think anything of the damp patches under Jo’s arms. “Anybody ever tell you that you got a cute smile?” the older man asks.

Jo’s gaze flicks up to the faded blue gaze that’s fixed on him. “No,” he replies simply. “I bet you charm the pants right off the women you meet with a smile like that.” Jo laughs, because what else can he do in response to that compliment? “I wish” is all he says, because he truly wishes it were true. He hasn’t touched a woman in months. He misses it, and he thinks often of burying his face in someone’s hair and his hands in her clothes. The deeply lined smile on the other man’s face softens. “Or hell, maybe I shouldn’t assume. Maybe you’re charming men out of their pants.” Blood rushes hot to Jo’s face, and suddenly, the distance between them is far too small. His clothes are too small; the store is too small. “I wish,” he its. The words are out before he can bite them back. For a split second, panic takes over, and his eyes skitter up the aisle, searching for a way out. But the man is a stranger—whom could he possibly tell? Jo pushes down the sick, scared feeling in his gut, tensing his belly and shoving his hands into his pockets. The older man just smiles at him, cool as can be, and squeezes Jo’s shoulder. One big thumb presses into the ridge of bone at the top of Jo’s shoulder blade. “Aw, really?” the man asks. “I, um,” Jo murmurs. “I have to … My lunch break is soon. I should—” “Don’t worry about it.” The warm palm leaves Jo’s back, and he misses it as soon as it’s gone. Half an hour later, after hiding in the back room to do busywork, Jo sees the man and the woman at the till, holding hands. That’s when it s that they aren’t two different random strangers hitting on him. They’re together. I hope they’re not cheating on each other, he thinks.

* * *

She’s back the next day, this time by herself. She finds Jo near the back of the store, where it’s cool and quiet, and asks him to help her carry bags of wood chips up to the and out to her car. He smiles at her, a little shiver of worry going up through his navel, because what if she was hitting on him earlier and chooses to do it again? What if her marriage is breaking up? She stops partway to the , examining a spray bottle, her nails clicking on the plastic as she picks it up. “My husband has bad arthritis in his hands; he can’t do as much work as he wants anymore,” she informs Jo, who watches her over the wood chips and waits to see where this will go. “I don’t suppose you’re interested in helping us out? For hire, of course.” “Uh?” It’s not his most eloquent moment, but he’s sure she’s hitting on him now, and that means he’s somehow gotten involved in some terrible extramarital affair. “We can afford to pay you fifteen dollars an hour if you want. A big, strong boy like you is just what we need. How does Saturday sound? You working that day?” “I’m not working,” he murmurs, not sure if this scenario is awful or hot. It’s like the opening sequence to the MILF pornos he’s watched—or to a horror movie. He can practically read the title in his head: Guy Brutally Dismembered by Hot Cougar. “They probably don’t pay you well enough here anyway. Come over to our place. I’ll make sure there’s pizza and beer for the two of you.” “Two of you?” he parrots. “You and my husband.” Jo smiles with relief. “Yes, yeah, sure. Sounds great. Um. Where do you live?”

She whips a small notepad out of her purse; jots down a name, address, and number; and tucks the ripped sheet into his back pocket, causing him to blush. “I’ll see you Saturday at one then.” She pats him on the cheek, her hand warm and dry against his face. He shows her out to her car, and then she’s gone. He reads her name from the paper later and smiles: Bianca Sinclair. He could use some more cash anyway.

* * *

He shows up a few minutes early and raps his knuckles on the front door in an awkward, offbeat staccato. He hopes this isn’t some joke and she really is going to pay him. As much as he’d like to get laid, he’s not desperate enough to fuck anyone’s wife. Ten seconds later, heavy footsteps come from inside the door, and Bianca’s white-haired husband opens it. “Oh, good. You showed up. We weren’t sure you’d come. Come in. I’m Matt,” he says, holding out one broad hand. Jo takes it with a nervous half smile, squeezing. “Jonathan, but my friends call me Jo.” His words receive a rumbling chuckle and raised eyebrows. “Jo, huh?” Matt shows him through the house. It’s obvious that renovation projects are in progress in more than just the backyard, as half the tiles have been ripped out of the kitchen wall, and there’s no furniture at the back of the partially painted living room. Then they’re out in the yard, and there’s lumber everywhere. A sawhorse, tape measures, and wood shavings are all over the lawn. Half of the porch is built, the wood still fresh and bright. The couple must have started renovating this month, because the new construction hasn’t even been rained on yet.

Matt gestures at it, his mouth bending into a frown. “I can only work on it for about an hour at a time before goddamn arthritis makes my hands hurt too much. Fucking age catching up with me. Don’t ever get old, boy.” “I won’t, sir,” Jo says without thinking, and Matt gives him a funny look. “Don’t call me sir unless you’re getting off on it. Takes me right back to the army.” Heat floods up Jo’s neck and face, and he looks away. He’s managed to offend a veteran now; this is the worst. Thankfully, Bianca comes out of the kitchen at that point and provides a distraction. “This is my wife, Bianca,” Matt says, and Jo offers her his hand. The smile she gives him is wide and toothy, and there’s something glimmering in her eyes. Probably she can see the blush. “The guy’s name is, apparently, Jo,” Matt informs her, and she laughs with a sharp shout of amusement. “My nickname,” Jo hastily explains. “You can call me Jonathan if you prefer.” “Oh no, Jo sounds just sweet enough for you,” Bianca says. It’s just past midday, and the sun is harsh and hot. Jo tries to hide from it, shading his eyes and looking out over the materials as his blush worsens. “So where do I begin?”

* * *

Matt doesn’t Jo until he’s been at it for an hour. He took his shirt off after fifteen minutes, so the little trickles of sweat run straight down Jo’s back and soak the top of his jeans. He watches, alarmed, as the older man’s eyes run up and down his half-naked body. He half hopes Matt is just checking out his sleeve of tats. Jo is hammering nails, so Matt has to raise his voice to talk to him as he settles

himself at the other end of the boards, picking up a second hammer. “You born in the Port or what?” “No,” Jo replies, some of the tension leaving his belly. This is an innocuous topic. “I was born in Morten. Moved here last year.” “You did come a ways then. You like all the other queer kids who come to the Port looking for someplace less awful?” It’s all Jo can do not to smash his fingers with the hammer. He leaves a dent in the smooth wood instead. “Uh, no, I’m not. That is, I’ve never …” He swallows. He’s half forgotten what he’s itted to this man. Maybe he is trying to forget. “You’ve never …?” Matt shouts back over the pounding of his own hammer, clearly waiting for Jo to finish his sentence. Jo finishes pounding the nail and then wipes his forehead silently. “I’ve never told anyone else,” he its at last, and Matt turns, fixes him with a stare Jo can’t see behind the aviators, and sets down the hammer. Compared to all the racket, the silence seems loud. “Seriously?” Matt grunts, one eyebrow lifting up from behind the shades, and Jo shakes his head, his gaze dropping. “Well, whatever. Don’t worry about it; it’s not a problem here anyway. I’m bi too.” It takes a whole second for this revelation to sink in, but when Jo gets it, his eyes go wide. “But you’re married,” he coughs out. Matt snorts, picks his hammer back up, and starts to work again. “’Course I’m married. Take a look at my wife. I’d be an idiot not to marry that. ’Sides, she doesn’t mind.” “She doesn’t?” “No, why would she? Don’t be dumb. She thinks it’s hot.”

Jo can’t think of anything he can possibly say. He feels a little dizzy, but maybe it’s just the heat.

* * *

When Bianca comes out an hour later, Matt’s hands have started to ache, so he’s sitting in the shade of a big almond tree out on the lawn. Bianca gives Jo a glass of iced lemonade, which he accepts with a grateful smile. She takes a second one to her husband, and Jo sits down to watch them together under the guise of sipping his drink. She holds the glass for Matt, who leans forward and wraps his lips around the straw, smiling up at her. They’re murmuring something too low for Jo to hear, but he sees the warm looks on their faces and notices the way she laughs. Pulling the glass away, she leans down to kiss her husband, and their mouths stick together as they part. Jo turns away, chugs his lemonade, and then grits his teeth when the cold drink gives him brain freeze.

* * *

They pay him in cash and invite him back the following Tuesday, because that’s the first day he is off work and isn’t doing anything definite. That night in his cramped little apartment, he puts a movie on in the background as he makes himself dinner, trying to drown out his own thoughts. It doesn’t work. The movie’s halfway done and his fried rice almost burned before he’s forced to it how scared he is. For many reasons, he doesn’t want Matt to be hitting on him. Foremost, while Jo has had thoughts in that direction, he’s perfectly content with women and has

never had any problems there. Then there’s the fact that Bianca is beautiful and probably a wonderful wife. Jo doesn’t want to be a home-wrecker. When he jacks off in the shower, though, he can’t help but think of them, one face flickering through his head before being replaced by the next. He tries his best to wash his feelings down the drain with the evidence of his interest, but the thoughts follow him into bed.

* * *

On Tuesday, he works for two hours on the deck’s east railing before Bianca brings out a six-pack and a slice of pizza on a plate. She sits beside him in the sun, the harsh light making her skin glow. Jo tries not to look down her shirt, but the neckline is so low that her cleavage is difficult to avoid if he looks anywhere near her. Instead, he settles for gazing out over the yard. There’s a vegetable garden beside the almond tree, and he keeps his eyes fixed there. “Matt tells me you’re not even out of the closet yet,” she says, apropos of nothing, and Jo has to swallow fast to keep from choking on his mouthful of pepperoni. He hasn’t quite finished chewing, and it hurts going down. “That’s precious. So what made you tell my husband?” He hopes she’s not about to accuse him of trying to steal her man. He isn’t. Trying to think of what to say, he takes a long swig of beer. “I dunno,” he murmurs at last, closing his eyes against the light and the situation. “It just popped out.” She chuckles. “Matt has that effect on some people. It’s the daddy dom look that does it.” Already flushed from the heat and effort, Jo can’t get any darker, but he feels the blush spread over his scalp nonetheless.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Jo can’t help but ask. “What, darling?” “That he likes men. I mean, aren’t you worried he’ll cheat?” “Oh, Joey, of course not. When he brings home men, I just wish him a good time and take myself off somewhere. Doesn’t happen as much these days, though. We’ve slowed down a lot.” Thoughts spin in his head like clothes in a dryer, and he’s suddenly not as hungry. The bottle is cold against his fingertips as he fiddles with it, the condensation gratifying on his sweating palms. “How does that work?” he asks at last, hoping it’s not the wrong thing to say. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her turn to look at him, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the grapevines twining around the fence. After a pause, she huffs out a breath in what might be amusement or frustration. “I mean, don’t you get awfully jealous?” he adds, worried he’s offended her somehow. “No, of course not. If I did, I wouldn’t let him! Sometimes I just can’t be bothered to get him off, and then it’s nice to have someone else do the work, you know?” No, I don’t know, Jo thinks frantically. I don’t know at all. “Are you hitting on me?” he says at last, because he honestly can’t take it anymore. He’s only done two hours so far today, so if she refuses to pay him, it’s no great loss. He can feel her eyes boring into him, but looking at her might very well kill him. “I guess that depends on you, honey. If it freaks you out, then the answer is no, of course I’m not. If you like the idea, then the answer is yes, of course I am. I mean, just look at you. But I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” As if obeying orders, his gaze drops to his hands. He nicked his finger at work the other day, and he rubs water from the dewy bottle into the cut. “I don’t know. I don’t really know what to say.”

“Finish your pizza then. If you want more, it’s in the kitchen. I’ll put the beers back in the fridge, so they’ll stay cold for you.” She vanishes indoors with a swish of her hips. He can’t keep himself from staring at her ass as she goes, and then he polishes off the beer. This isn’t how real people work, he tells himself. There’s something wrong. Maybe she’s lying; maybe this is how she cheats on Matt. He waits till Matt comes out an hour later, avoiding going in for more food or beer, even though he’s still hungry, because if he goes in, he might run into Bianca. Once Matt settles down beside him with the sandpaper, Jo finally asks his question. He hopes it won’t get him punched. “So do you and your wife actually, uh, you know, see other people?” “Yeah, sure. Used to date the same person once. It’s how we met. Things with us and Megan were so good Bianca took her last name and hyphenated it with mine. I miss the old bitch.” Jo fidgets. He did not expect this answer; he expected Matt to say, “No, of course not. What kind of crazy shit are you talking, you damn fool?” or even “Who told you that? Are you calling my wife a slut?” “What happened?” Jo asks, at a loss. “To Megan? She died. Motorcycle accident. I married Bianca a couple years later. But I tell you, I wore my helmet and leathers every time I rode for a long time after Megan died.” “You ride?” Jo perks up at this. Motorcycle riding is a much-safer topic. “Thought you’d like that. I saw your hog in the driveway. Used to own a garage with Megan. Sold it last year. I’m too old to bother with that shit anymore. But yeah, I ride, and I still do stuff with a group me and Megan founded.” “What’s your group like?” he asks. “We do community work. Rescue abused animals and escort women and kids away from the shitty men in their lives—that kind of thing. We’re always looking for .”

“I’m hungry,” Jo replies, and he nearly runs into the kitchen for more pizza and beer. When Bianca smiles at him, he blushes all the way out to his ears, and when her hand touches his as she hands him the cash at the end of the day, he can think only of her perfect manicure and how shirtless he is.

* * *

He comes back four days later, and his four days away feel like four of the longest days of his life. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for, but he knows he is waiting for something, and it’s about Bianca and Matt. He makes sure he’s washed and shaved properly before he goes, and he’s ashamed of the fact, as if he’s doing something wrong. Searching through his memory, he checks over and over to see if he is doing something wrong, because he’s sure he is; he just can’t quite put his finger on what. He’s wrong for allowing himself to want perhaps. Because they’re married. Because he’s young enough to be their kid. Because Matt’s a man. He resolves not to say anything. Just do the work; that’s all you’re here for. They won’t bring it up again, and you’ll at least have more spending money this month. Bianca opens the door after he knocks, and her breasts are practically bursting out of her shirt. She has to be wearing a push-up bra, Jo thinks as he drags his eyes back up to her face. Is she wearing it for me? “Mornin’, darlin’. Bring your sweet self inside. Matt hasn’t done shit with the porch since you left; his hands have been real bad this week.” Jo nods, keenly aware of her body a few feet away from his and of the fact that he’s moving through a private space. This is their house, where they live their married life together. The signs of it are everywhere, from the pictures on the mantel to the dishes in the open dishwasher. A thought flashes through his mind —he could do the dishes for them too, as well as finish the tiling in the kitchen and the painting in the living room—but he stuffs it down.

When they reach the yard, she leans against the doorjamb, watching him as he begins measuring and marking off the wood. “You thought about it enough now, sweetheart?” she asks, her mouth crooked in a half smile that’s only made more obvious by her lipstick. She doesn’t have to say what it is. Jo swallows, blinking at his hands. “Yeah” is all he can get out. She waits for him to go on, so he scrambles for words. He’s never been good with words. “Are you sure it’s okay?” he finally asks. “With Matt, I mean. With you. I don’t want … I mean, you’re married. I don’t wanna cause any problems.” Her laugh is warm and low. “Oh, honey, you’re precious. If I wanted to cheat, I’d be doing this all differently—believe me. But how about this? You work for a couple hours and think this over just a little longer, and then I’ll bring Matt out with me for lunch when he gets out of bed. That way, you can talk to Daddy too and make sure Mommy’s telling the truth.” Jo ducks his chin. He knows she’s making fun of him a little, but he’s reassured anyway. He nods just enough to show assent and then hefts a board onto the sawhorse.

* * *

Matt brings out the pizza box, and Bianca carries the glasses. They set the items down on the deck that’s slowly forming around Jo, and by the time the older couple has seated themselves on the completed portion of the porch, Jo is almost buzzing out of his skin. He looks anywhere but at them, wiping the sawdust off his hands and shorts. “You don’t have to, you know,” Matt says conversationally, opening up the pizza box and holding it out. Jo takes a slice and hides behind it, biting the tip and chewing as if it’ll keep him safe. It’ll make sure he doesn’t say anything stupid anyway.

“You can just do the work,” Matt continues. “Tell us no, and we won’t bother you again.” Jo swallows the first mouthful. This can’t be real anyway. This doesn’t happen. Maybe he should just do the work and pretend they never said anything —pretend he hasn’t said anything. He looks up at Bianca, searching her face for anything wrong, but all he can see is a smile. She doesn’t look unhappy. “Which of you would I be, uh …” He holds the slice near his chest like a talisman. For modesty’s sake, he’s kept his shirt on today, even though he’s hot. Sweat has made it stick to him all over. “Both if you want,” she replies. “Or you can have your pick. I won’t be offended if you want him, since you’ve never tried that before.” “I couldn’t,” he replies, and Matt’s expression subtly changes, so Jo hastens on, half hating himself for saying it. “I couldn’t with just one of you. That seems wrong.” The older man smiles slowly, first one corner of his mouth and then the other lifting up. “Is that so?” Matt says, his tone flirtatious now. “But both of us wouldn’t be bad?” Jo has no idea what to say. He’s dizzy, and his heart is pounding between his lungs and pushing all the air out of them. He nods somehow, because he’s had these thoughts for a long time now and because they found him rather than the other way around, so it’s not really his fault. It’s not as if he went looking. Matt stands and moves closer, and then a big hand wraps around Jo’s wrist and lifts the pizza away to set the food on top of the box. When Matt’s hand returns, it strokes up Jo’s arm, the rough pad of Matt’s thumb pressing into the sensitive skin at the inside of Jo’s elbow. “You sure? You really want me to be your first?” Jo nods because words are impossible; he’ll die if he has to say it. Bianca makes

a sound, and his gaze jerks over to her. He fears that maybe she’s angry now, but she just crosses her arms and grins, watching them, and then there’s another big hand on Jo’s jaw and another thumb running over his bottom lip to match the one circling over the veins inside his arm. The seconds move like bugs in honey, with time stretching out somehow so that Matt’s approach happens both too fast and too slow. Then he’s right there, his breath dry against Jo’s lips, his nose close to Jo’s cheek. What feels like a long time es before they finally connect. The skin of Matt’s mouth is tougher than that of the girls Jo has kissed, either because of Matt’s age or because he’s a man. The prickle of his facial hair against Jo’s chin is so foreign that Jo lets out an awful little noise from the back of his throat. He’s kissing a man—he can’t pretend otherwise—and then there’s a soft stroke of tongue. He parts his lips without thinking, reaching his own tongue out to meet it, and for a split second, their tongues touch in the middle, wet and smooth. Distantly, Jo knows his fingers are still greasy from the pizza, but he can’t help grabbing Matt’s shirt and holding on, so he just has to hope he doesn’t stain anything. The big hand at his jaw wraps around the back of his neck, and Matt holds him close. Then the kiss begins in earnest. Matt’s teeth press into his lower lip before Matt sucks in his lip and tongue, stroking them into the corners of his mouth and up against his palate and stubble, sharp against his chin. Matt lets out a low rumble of pleasure. Behind them, Jo hears Bianca make an “Mmm” of enjoyment too. It’s enough to ground him so that when Matt’s other hand comes around his hip, pulling them flush so he can feel the bigger body against his own, Jo doesn’t jump out of his skin. Then Matt pulls away, and Jo blinks, trying to focus on the other man’s face. Matt’s smiling, the lines deep around his eyes. Then there’s a third hand on Jo’s back. Bianca pulls Jo’s face around by his chin, and her mouth is soft, as Jo is used to. Her lipstick makes the kiss sticky, and he’s sure he’ll have it on his face when they’re done. He’s always loved that about kissing women—his mouth ending up whatever color they’re wearing that day. Bianca bites at his mouth. She doesn’t nip gently, as her husband did, but sinks

her teeth into the tender flesh and holds it there as she runs her tongue along it. Jo moans, the hair on the back of his neck rising as his knuckles dig into Matt’s ribs. He hasn’t even dared to fantasize about this scenario; in his mind, they always came to him separately. Just as suddenly, it’s over. They both step away, and they smile at him, at his hands still clutching Matt’s shirt. “Think it over while you work, baby,” Bianca tells him. No! Don’t make me think about it. I’ll chicken out. I’ll run away out the side gate. I’ll— But he just nods and lets go of Matt’s shirt. He doesn’t watch as they disappear into the house together; he just stands there shaking in the June heat, all his limbs weak. I did it. I kissed a man, he thinks as he picks up the hammer again, selects a nail, and starts the work. I kissed a married man. And his wife. He works till the shaking es. His thoughts are still on a spin cycle, whirling at a hundred miles an hour. The couple has left him the food and a glass of water, so he stops to eat. All the ice has melted, but the water’s still cold as he drinks. He can feel every mouthful go down and settle into his belly. When he’s done enough for the day, he goes inside, bringing in the leftovers and his empty glass. He refills it at the sink, drinks, and then places the glass in the dishwasher beside the others. He finds Matt and Bianca in the living room. Bianca, wearing an apron, is stretched out on her toes to paint the walls as Matt watches. They’ve picked a warm rust color. The roller makes sticky noises as she runs it over the white paint underneath. “I’m, um, done outside. For today.” This gets a smile from Matt, who beckons him over to the couch. Gingerly, Jo sits, and when Matt shifts beside him, Jo tenses. However, the other man only pulls out his wallet, opens it, and counts out a few twenties. He presses the money to the inside of Jo’s thigh, waiting there until Jo takes it, folds it, and

shoves it into a pocket of his own. “So that’s not hanging between us,” Matt says, and then he beckons Jo over. Jo is on the other man with a mouthful of tongue before he realizes what’s happening. He climbs into the jean-clad lap before he can think to stop himself. He should be embarrassed by his eagerness, but Matt laughs into his mouth and adjusts them so Jo’s knees are settled comfortably around his legs. He lets Jo dominate the kiss this time, parting his lips and teasing Jo’s tongue deeper and deeper into his mouth. Jo would lose himself in the feeling if he weren’t hyperaware of the position of Matt’s hands, stroking gently down his back and sides, never quite dipping below his belt line. It’s oddly soothing, like the way one would stroke the flanks of a skittish horse. The prickling of his skin under the damp cotton of his shirt is an unwanted distraction. He breaks the kiss with a muttered apology, tugs his shirt over his head, and then freezes, unsure what to do with it now that he’s taken it off. He doesn’t think Bianca would appreciate him tossing his sweaty clothes onto her nice carpet, but he doesn’t know where their hamper is, and he’s sure it would be rude and presumptuous to mix his laundry in with theirs anyway. “Here, hon—let me take that.” Bianca solves his conundrum by taking the shirt from his hands and disappearing into a side room briefly—the laundry room, Jo guesses. Okay, that answers that question. “C’mere,” Matt says, cupping the back of Jo’s head and drawing him down into another slow, wet kiss. The feeling of Matt’s hands running over his bare skin is electrifying, and Jo is hard and aching against the seam of his jeans by the time Bianca comes back and the couch dips with her weight. His hands clench and unclench against Matt’s broad chest; Jo isn’t sure what, if anything, he’s allowed to touch. “Don’t you two make the prettiest picture? Save some of that sugar for me.” She’s cozied up to Matt and has one arm around her husband’s shoulders and the other resting on Jo’s knee. “Always, baby.” Matt turns his head and shares a brief, hungry kiss with her. Jo’s dick throbs at the sight of them, their tongues and teeth, and he blushes when

Bianca catches him staring. “You too, Joey. Show me what you got.” It’s stranger to kiss Bianca, even though it should be more familiar with a woman—maybe because it’s impossible to forget that her husband is right there watching them, with Jo’s thighs spread over his lap. He has to crane to his side to reach her, straining to hold the position, until finally, he’s forced to steady himself with one hand on her thigh. It feels like an imposition, but she doesn’t push his hand away. All she does is stroke his lower lip with her tongue. She’s even more aggressive than Matt is. Jo led most of his kiss with Matt, which he figured was just politeness on Matt’s part. Bianca, however, sucks Jo’s lips one after the other, bites them first gently and then harder when it makes him huff with pleasure, and then fucks his mouth with her tongue. However, when he sucks at it, she pulls away. “No, baby, you don’t gotta show me how good a cocksucker you’ll be. Just let me kiss you.” “Sorry.” He looks away, ashamed. Matt seemed to like it, but Jo didn’t mean for him to interpret the action like that. In the back of his head, a voice wakes up, reminding him that this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be doing this. Bianca smiles and kisses him again, so Jo tries to let himself forget. Of course she doesn’t know. Matt hums appreciatively, apparently pleased with the sight of his wife locking lips with a guy young enough to be their son. He runs his hand over Jo’s stomach and chest, flicking a nipple with his thumb and then doing it again when Jo’s breath catches and a strangled noise comes out of his nose. “You like having your tits played with, Jo?” The women Jo has been with over the years haven’t touched his nipples much. His chest has never been where they aimed their attention. Most of them went straight for his boxers, and that was fine by him. But Jo plays with his chest when he’s alone, so he pulls away from Bianca long enough to gasp “Yes!” before diving back in.

At first, the stimulation is gentle, with Matt pushing the little nubs back and forth with his thumbs, but after about half a minute of that, Jo has to pull away from Bianca to stop himself from coming in his pants. Matt apparently takes that as a signal to get rougher, because he takes both of Jo’s nipples between finger and thumb and squeezes, pulls, and twists at them till Jo squirms and bites his lip and has to reach down to adjust himself in his jeans so the denim seam isn’t digging so hard into the shaft. He can feel their eyes all over him, and he’s halfway between mortified and coming. “Fuck,” he whispers, and Bianca chuckles. “You can tell him to stop anytime you need, sweetheart,” she says as an especially hard pull and twist wrench a gasp out of Jo, whose knees squeeze tightly around Matt’s thighs. “He loves doing that, and he’ll go on forever if you let him. He doesn’t get to play with mine like that, because I spent too much on these beauties to let some goon maul them.” “One of the great tragedies of our marriage,” Matt laments, but he’s smiling, so Jo doesn’t take his comment seriously. “But you, Jo,” Bianca says, “if you can be a gentleman about it, I’ll let you suck on mine sometime.” Jo goes red, his eyes fixed on Matt’s sternum. “That, ah, would be very nice, ma’am.” “So polite!” She laughs. “Someone raised you right.” Matt lets go with one hand, using it to beckon Jo down into another kiss. This time, the difference in the way the two kiss is even more obvious, and Jo twitches in his jeans, thinking that Matt is probably being gentler and more ive to complement Bianca’s aggressive style. It points to how long they’ve been married. Part of him wants to take himself out of his pants or to have Matt do it and manhandle him as he’s manhandling Jo’s chest, but part of Jo doesn’t want this experience to be over so soon. This situation is pretty gay, yes, but nobody’s touching his junk, so theoretically, this moment can be ed off as just experimentation. These days, almost everybody’s kissed a guy at least once, right? Really, it’s supposed to be only girls who experiment like this, but it’s the

Port area; it’s hardly Jo’s fault. Matt finds a rhythm between stroking his tongue into Jo’s mouth and pulling at his nipples, and Jo forgets everything else. He’s aware of nothing but bearded lips, wet thrusting, and the tug at his chest that feels as if it’s connected straight to his balls, and all Jo can do is moan, his mouth slack-jawed and open, while he squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his thighs around Matt. He’s entirely forgotten there’s anyone but the two of them till Bianca speaks. At the sound of her voice, Jo jumps, yanking back as his eyes shoot open. “Watching the two of you is enough to make me want to go get my vibrator.” For a moment, Jo stares at her, and then his gaze drops. Guilt washes through him. His mom taught him right—“Never ever forget that if a woman takes you into her bedroom, it’s because you can do something for her, not because she can do something for you”—and he’s forgotten. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t really know how to do this. How do I, uh … I mean, there are two of you. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to …” He trails off, lacking the words for what he needs to ask. He’s usually good at making women feel wanted—that’s easy enough. He kisses, strokes, and sucks at their breasts. He always does foreplay, which usually includes kissing and stroking between their legs, and Jo has always enjoyed that. However, while sitting on the lap of a woman’s husband, he’s not sure how the situation is supposed to work. He’s pretty sure normal etiquette doesn’t apply, because how can it? But he’s not certain. Maybe he is doing this all wrong. “Oh, you’re doing just fine, sweetheart. Don’t stop on my .” For a long moment, Jo stays frozen, his guilt not assuaged, because it feels selfish to sit here and make out with her husband in front of her like this. But then Matt laughs. “Actually, I was thinking that it’s been a long, long time since I sucked cock, and since this is your first time with a man, I oughta make this good.” Somehow, the heat in Jo’s face intensifies at his comment. “If you want,” Jo manages to say after a moment. “But isn’t there anything I can

do for you?” Matt rolls his eyes, glancing at Bianca, who’s grinning. “Lord, what a bottom,” Matt mutters, and then he says louder, “Like I just said, you can let me suck your cock.” “I don’t let him smoke cigars anymore, so he’s just aching to get something long and hard between his lips, hon.” Jo isn’t entirely sure if she’s joking or not. He’s spared from having to figure it out by Matt smacking him gently on the thigh. “Up you get. You can have my spot on the couch.” Jo obediently rises, crossing his arms over his naked chest. With Matt standing, Jo is reminded of how big the other man is, broad and tall. One wide hand gestures to the spot he’s vacated, and hesitantly, Jo takes it. It’s still warm, and as soon as he’s seated, Bianca scoots up closer to his side, turning his chin to take a quick kiss from his lips. “Here, baby—hold my hands. Yeah, like that,” she murmurs, and he squeezes around the offered limbs. Then Matt’s down on his knees in front of the couch, undoing Jo’s fly, and Jo can hardly breathe. He’s caught in an almost perfect balance between how wrong this is and how much he doesn’t want it to stop. He focuses on Bianca: if Bianca’s not upset and is holding his hands, then he must believe it’s okay. She’s the one he’d be hurting if it were wrong, right? Matt drags the denim and cotton down over Jo’s hips, grinning at what greets him. Caught in the elastic of his boxers, Jo’s cock lies flat against one thigh, hard and a bit sticky from his own fluids. Then he feels warm fingers on him, easing him out, and a moment after, Jo has to close his eyes because he can’t handle watching as Matt opens his mouth and takes him in. The sensation feels hot, wet, and soft, just as it has in the past when women have done this to him. He can’t help the little jerk of his hips into the sensation, and he’s embarrassed because that’s rude, but Matt just chuckles around him. “Oh fuck,” Jo whimpers. “Are you sure this is okay?” “Oh, baby, as if there’s anything I like better than seeing him with a face full of

cock. If you wanna make me really happy, make sure to come all over his face,” Bianca says. This gets another whimper from Jo and another laugh from Matt, which Jo can feel all the way down to the root. The only time Jo ever came on someone like that was an accident, when he was sixteen; she’d only gotten to jerk him off twice before, and he finished long before he expected. He got it in her eye, and he never lived down the shame. With his eyes closed, the experience isn’t too different from other times he’s gotten head, all suction and the slide of lips over the shaft, except for the prickle of stubble against his sensitive skin, the feeling of broad palms resting on his thighs, and the fact that Matt’s twice as wide as any girl who’s ever gotten between Jo’s legs. Further, never before has Jo gotten his dick sucked with someone else cuddled up to his side, watching. Jo feels Matt’s hands slide over his thighs. They’re strong and stiff. The arthritis has taken a strong hold, but the man is still tender and gentle with his ministrations. Something taps at the side of his face, and he looks over at Bianca. It’s hard to focus on anything other than what’s happening in his lap. Matt’s done this before —that’s clear, and he’s fairly good at it. However, Jo manages to fix his eyes on Bianca’s face. “Don’t look at me, baby; open your eyes, and look at him. You look good with a man’s mouth around your cock; you should try it on more often.” Her hand drifts over his chest, tweaking a sore nipple, and Jo can’t help the full-body shudder and thrust of his hips. But he closes his eyes again. “I’ll come if I look at him.” “Then come, baby,” she purrs into his ear, squeezing his hand for extra reassurance. Her husband is blowing him, so Jo figures the only polite thing to do now is what she says. When Jo looks down, Matt raises an eyebrow at him, though with his mouth occupied, the meaning of this gesture is difficult to determine. All Jo can see is the face of a big older man between his legs, and he can feel only Matt working his cock and Bianca holding his hands. Jo struggles to make it last,

though he’s not sure whom for anymore; however, at some point, even good manners can’t hold him any longer. “Fuck. Oh fuck, I’m going to—” “Good boy,” Bianca says encouragingly. That tips him over, and then he’s turning his face to hide in Bianca’s hair, squeezing her hands and sobbing his climax out with deep heaves of air as Matt finishes him with one hand. Time stretches strangely, and Jo can’t tell if a little or a lot of time has ed. “Aw, look at the pretty picture you made for me,” Bianca croons, but Jo shakes his head. He can’t handle looking at Matt right now; it’s too overwhelming when he’s still feeling electrified and oversensitive. “You don’t wanna see, sweetheart?” Taking a deep breath, Jo forces himself to peek out from her hair, and Matt grins up at him, leaning on his elbows with white smears running down one cheek and into his beard. “I’m sorry. Should I get a towel?” Jo says. His response gets an incredulous look from Matt and a laugh from Bianca. He’s not sure why, since he’s always figured all that stuff about semen going onto faces, breasts, and whatnot is just a porn trope nobody likes in real life. Apparently not. “If you give me a minute to get myself together, I’ll go—” “Don’t worry about it,” Matt says, rising and going to the kitchen—to fetch a washcloth himself, Jo assumes. Then Bianca’s kissing him again, pushing him backward into the arm of the couch and draping herself on top of him. His damp genitals press against her clothed lower belly. When she finishes with him, she lifts away and grins. “You’re staying for dinner tonight, aren’t you, baby? Seeing as you brought dessert.” He’s never been good with compliments, and now is no different. He tries his best to act as though her mildly obscene remark hasn’t happened at all. “If you

want. I’d like that,” he says. That’s all he can get out. The offer seems like jumping the gun anyway, as he now owes Matt a blowjob, which he has no idea how to give, and Bianca hasn’t gotten off either. “I do want. Over dinner, you’re gonna tell me all about the girls you’ve dated.”

* * *

Before dinner, Bianca gives him one of Matt’s shirts, and as he puts it on, he feels as if he’s stepping into the big man’s life. If he’s lucky, he will soon be fucking the big man’s wife. He keeps waiting for them to suggest they have more sex tonight, but they ask him all about his previous relationships instead. There isn’t much to tell, really. He’s not sure what they want to know, and finally, he gives in and asks. “What exactly do you guys want to know?” Bianca looks at him for a moment, and Matt just smiles. “Hon, my husband just sucked your dick, and then we had you stay for dinner. We wanna know what kind of relationship experience you have, so we can tell if you might be willing to do this again. I thought that was obvious.” Jo heats up at her words, because no, it wasn’t obvious to him. Nothing about this situation is obvious. He’s so far out of his comfort zone that he can barely even see it on the horizon now. “Yeah, sure, I, uh, should be able to get it up again by now. It’s been long enough,” he murmurs, mortified. His response gets a snort from Matt and a crow of laughter from Bianca. “I meant another day, not tonight. Like, you come over sometime and let us fuck you.” “If you want,” Matt says. “This isn’t a business arrangement. Purely for pleasure.” He reaches out and takes Jo’s hand in his, running his thumb over Jo’s

knuckles. “We like you. You’re cute, and you seem to be into both of us. It’s not exactly a conventional arrangement, but conventional never really worked for Bianca and me.” Everything about this circumstance is surreal. Jo feels as if he’s stumbled onto the set of a pornographic family sitcom somehow. “Can I think about it?” He braces himself for an onslaught of semiparental disappointment over his hesitation, but to his relief, Bianca and Matt break into smiles instead. “Of course, sweetheart,” Bianca says. “We’re just making the offer. You decide if it’s something you want.” Matt pats his hand one more time. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.” “But if you wanna come back on Thursday and finish the porch …” Bianca trails off. He does—because, well, customer service doesn’t pay well, he’s a little worried about the gear shift on his bike, and there are a few new video games he wants. He doesn’t let himself think about all the other things he wants, even with his pulse hammering under his collarbones. He nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.” “Well, that’s settled then. Now, who wants dessert?” Jo blushes right away at Bianca’s words, and he folds his hands in his lap to cover up the way his cock gives an interested little twitch. He half wonders if they’re going to fuck him right here on the dining table—it’s a good, sturdy wooden one with thick legs; it could probably handle the strain. However, Bianca was talking literally. She brings ice cream and toppings out from the kitchen, and once they’re finished with dessert, she fetches Jo’s coat. He stands there, looking at it in her hands. “Did I do something wrong?” he murmurs, his heart falling. He must have, because they don’t want him again anymore. He’s fucked it up somehow between dinner and dessert, and he has no clue how.

“What are you talking about, hon?” “You don’t want me to stay. I haven’t, you know, done anything for either of you yet. I don’t know what I’m doing, but if you’ll just tell me—” “Oh, baby.” She cups the side of his face. From the kitchen, Jo can hear Matt loading up the dishwasher. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We thought we should start you out easy, since it was your first time with a man and all. Or a couple.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the hardwood floors. “It’s rude, though—me not doing anything for you.” At this, she tips his chin up till he’s forced to look at her, and then he can see her grin. “You did plenty for me. Believe me, when you’re gone, I’m gonna ride him like I stole him and then put him away wet.” He can’t look at her while she says that, so instead, he looks toward the kitchen as he takes his leather jacket from her hands. He wears it over Matt’s old T-shirt, which is baggy on his leaner frame. “That’s okay?” She leans in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “It’s more than okay. You go on home, hon, and we’ll see you on Thursday. Sweet dreams until then, hmm?” There’s a quirk to the smile she gives him that makes him think she knows he’s going to be dreaming about her and Matt, especially with the mental picture she just painted, and he blushes again, ducking his head and smiling. She shoos him out the door with a pat on the butt, and as he walks over to where his bike is parked, there’s a strange lightness in his chest. It’s weird as hell, but he’s starting to think this might be for real.

* * *

The good feeling lasts until about halfway through Jo’s shift the next morning. He’s helping a guy find the right drill bit when he realizes there’s no way the arrangement with Bianca and Matt is going to work out. It doesn’t make sense that it would. Bianca and Matt have a great relationship and obviously have great sex already, and Jo has nothing to offer except novelty, which will wear off fast. It’s clear he got more out of that evening than they did, and he’s got the wrist strain and crotch chafe to prove it—he’s done barely anything but jack off since he got home. He doubts they’ve so much as thought about him since he left. Worse, it’s as if they bombed a dam inside him. Everything he carefully held in check, avoided thinking about, refused to acknowledge, denied as meaningless, or simply joked away has come rushing out to drown everything it touches. He notices men in the store, on TV, on the street, and in the voices of his favorite musicians. He noticed them before, of course, but he kept his thoughts about them carefully squelched, no sooner formulated than forced away. It’s not a big deal, he told himself. I don’t need it. Women are just fine. And they are, and always have been, but now he can Matt’s lips and hands, and oh, how he wants. He wishes they hadn’t been so polite, that they hadn’t stopped. He wishes Matt had taught him how to take a cock in his mouth —and his ass—so he’d know and could just be done with it, as they will inevitably be done with him. Meanwhile, he wants and wants, and the intensity of the wanting scares him. When he closes his eyes, he can feel Bianca’s hands holding his wrists and her mouth kissing his while he spreads his legs for Matt. By the time Thursday comes around, he’s bracing himself for a thanks-but-nothanks brush-off from Bianca as soon as he shows up. He’s tempted to make it easier on everyone and not bother showing at all, but the deck’s still unfinished, and they weren’t kidding about Matt’s hands, so it seems cruel to bail on them like that. He could make the same amount of money on the streets, sure, but he’d rather stay on the level when possible; he may be legal, but no good comes of messing around with the police for fun. Plus, he still needs to return Matt’s borrowed shirt, so he basically has to go back on Thursday. Furthermore, they know where he works. If he doesn’t show and they’re angry, they could find him, shout at him, and give away to his coworkers what he did—what he is.

He swallows as he knocks at their door, the armpits of his T-shirt already soaked. Bianca opens the door after a pause, and shit, she’s every bit as beautiful as he re. She’s glamorous from her dye job, and the heels she’s wearing are stupendous. He wonders what it’s like to walk in them, his knees going weak, as she smiles at him in greeting. He notices for the first time slight wrinkles on the skin of her neck. There are also a few age spots on her hands, so he figures she can’t be less than forty. Her face and tits paint a younger picture, though, and Jo silently hails her surgeon. She ushers him in, taking his jacket and hanging it on the hook inside the door, beside another jacket that has to be Matt’s. It’s heavy leather like Jo’s and way too large to belong to a woman. There’s a rainbow patch sewn on one shoulder, and the sight of it makes Jo blush. He reaches up a hand to brush it without thinking. “We could get you a patch like that too if you want,” she says, following his gaze. He shakes his head, snatching his arm away; he can’t imagine wearing such a thing. “I’ve got one too,” she says. “I don’t like the heavy leather he wears, but I’ve got a padded cloth jacket, and my patch is sewn onto that.” Something in Jo’s gut aches at the words, so he changes the subject as they walk in. “Has Matt made any progress in the yard while I’ve been gone?” “A bit. Not much. We finished the living room, though.” He notices that on his way in. The room has more furniture in it now—a second couch, a TV, a record player, and a bunch of vinyl. Then they’re out in the heat again. Bianca pulls the sliding doors closed behind them. June is already hot. The heat probably has something to do with global warming, which Jo doesn’t want to think about. Not bothering to wait this time, he strips his shirt off—she’s seen him come, and his bare chest can’t compare to that sight. He watches her face as he tosses the T-shirt onto the finished section of porch, and he sees the appreciative look she gives him and the way her eyes

linger on his stomach. Seeing her look at him like that, he can suddenly breathe again, so he gives her a shy smile. “Did you do a lot of thinkin’ this week, sunshine?” He shouldn’t like the term of endearment as much as he does, but he can’t help the warmth that spreads through him, which matches the sunny heat they’re standing in. “Yes, ma’am.” “And?” she asks, sidling up close. They’re not quite touching, but he can smell her perfume, or maybe it’s her shampoo or lotion, and he wants to bury his face in her hair again while she holds him. “I’ve probably only got two days of work left on the porch,” he replies, scared to say anything else. She’s acting as if she wants him, but what if Matt’s changed his mind? And even if he hasn’t … “I could help you with the tiles in the kitchen after I finish here. Or, you know, whatever other work you need done around the house.” She smiles, and the look on her face is gentle. “You don’t have to find excuses to come to a place you’ve been invited. If you just want to sit on my husband’s dick, you can say that.” All the oxygen goes out of his lungs. She makes it sound easy, almost like something normal people do, but saying that might make her think he’s being rude. She goes on before he can find any words. “If you just wanna work, I suppose I can handle the disappointment. But you did look awfully pretty with your cock in Matt’s mouth.” He chubs up a little just hearing her say the words and has to close his eyes. It’s so bright, and he can’t believe this is real. He must have said his thought out loud, because then he feels a hand on his face, and he jumps a bit. When his eyes shoot open, she’s close to him, and with her heels on, she’s an inch taller.

“I’m all real, honey, unless you wanna get particular about my rack. That ain’t a problem for you, is it?” “No, not at all.” He hastens to explain, but she cuts him off with a smile and a warm kiss just beside his mouth. The tension goes out of him all at once, as if he’s been waiting for this moment all week, and he sighs. “Do you wanna work, or do you wanna come inside now, wake up Matt with me, and have him teach you how to finger me?” His half wood turns into a boner, spreading down one leg of his boxers. If she looks down, he’s sure she’ll see it. The sunlight beats down on his back for an awkwardly long time as he tries to figure out the right answer to her question. “I don’t wanna wake Matt up if he’s sleeping, and I should really help you finish the porch, shouldn’t I?” “You’re such a good boy.” She kisses him again, this time on the mouth, and then disappears inside. He watches her through the kitchen windows.

* * *

The porch is almost completed by the time he comes in that afternoon. He kind of wants to stay out to finish it, but he’s tired, hot, and sweaty and doesn’t have it in him to saw anything else or hammer a single nail more. Plus, Matt and Bianca have been moving around in the kitchen and dining room all day, and he can’t stand just looking anymore. He can only take so much. At the sound of the sliding door, they both look up at him from their stations in the kitchen. They’re cooking what smells like steak and steamed vegetables, and the aroma is good enough to make his mouth water. He stiffens as Matt puts down his knife, wipes his hands on a towel, and comes over to him. “Hello there, pretty boy,” he rumbles, and Jo’s eyes drop at once, his mouth curling into an embarrassed half smile. Matt pulls a small clump of money out of his back pocket and wraps his arms around Jo to tuck it into his back pocket.

Then his big hands smooth over the sun-warmed fabric of Jo’s jeans, wrapping up and under his ass and pulling him close. “I can see Bianca’s kissed you already today,” he whispers into Jo’s ear. Jo has no idea what to do with his arms, so he gingerly lays them along Matt’s biceps, not sure if this is allowed. “How do you know that?” he croaks, because now Matt’s kneading his ass and maneuvering Jo so their hips press flush, and he can feel the bulge of Matt’s sex under his clothes. It’s exciting and terrifying at the same time. Bianca snorts at Jo’s words, and Matt grins incredulously at him. “You’ve still got her lipstick on your mouth, genius.” As soon as Matt’s said it, it’s so obvious that Jo is mortified he even asked. He closes his eyes, lifting a hand to wipe off his face. “Don’t be like that,” Matt purrs. “I didn’t mean anything by it; it’s cute that you forgot.” He rocks them a little closer still, and Jo can hardly breathe because he’s so scared and happy. At least this answers his question about whether Matt is still interested. Then Jo feels a prickling mouth on his neck and the wet stroke of a tongue up his jugular. With his eyes still closed, it’s so unexpected that Jo can’t hide the way his hips curl. “It’s so hot that I can taste the sweat on you from workin’ in our yard,” Matt says. “Makes me want to lick you clean all over.” Jo swallows, unsure how to respond. “I’ve probably got sawdust and dirt on me, though.” At this, Matt pulls back, and Jo worries he’s upset the older man, but all Matt does is look Jo up and down. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I doubt you cleaned yourself inside out before coming over tonight either. Did you?” Matt’s words imply that he wants to do a lot more than just groping, and Jo feels the blush spread over his face, burning as if he’s still out in the sun. “Uh, no.”

Mike’s big hands squeeze Jo’s ass again before smacking him hard on one cheek and letting him go. “You can shower here then. There are fresh towels in the cupboard in the hall, and if you use the master bathroom, there’s a shower attachment that’ll do the trick.” Jo retreats down the hall before Matt can say anything else that’ll mortify him. He finds the towels and peeks into the other rooms—there are two spare rooms, it seems—before he pads into the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Even though Bianca and Matt have both seen him with his dick out and coming on their living room couch, Jo still hesitates before entering what has to be the most private room in the house. He feels like a kid sneaking around out of bounds, hoping a teacher doesn’t catch him. Despite the urge to look around and see what kind of space Matt and Bianca have built for themselves, he zeroes in on what he hopes is the door to the bathroom and tries to keep his snooping eyes to himself. The bathroom isn’t much better, though, to be honest. It’s nice and clean, but the two toothbrushes in the holder by the sink and the mix of magazines in the basket beside the toilet serve to remind him that he’s a guest in someone else’s home and needs to be on his best behavior. He strips down quickly, laying out his folded clothes on top of the wicker basket in the corner. To Jo, the experience of figuring out anyone else’s shower is normally like taking standardized tests in school: difficult, humiliating, and seemingly impossible at times. However, Bianca and Matt have a wonderfully straightforward shower Mixet, so in no time, Jo is naked and soapy in the spray. There is indeed a shower attachment. Its use is clear enough, even if he’s never seen or touched one before. Having worked in a hardware store, he knows never to point anything that spouts water at his face when testing its workings, and this is for the best, because he manages to somehow turn the thing on full blast, and the jet is alarmingly focused and powerful. Once he figures out how to dial it down, he stares at it as it dribbles onto the tiles beneath him. He has never touched his ass before. Rather, he’s touched it, as he keeps himself clean the same as any functional adult, but he’s never allowed himself to do anything else to it. He thinks of Bianca and Matt and what they might want to do to him tonight. He closes his eyes to stand in the spray. The salt has long since

washed from his skin. He knows that if he insisted, he could probably just stick to Bianca, stick to normal, straight things—sucking her tits, licking her pussy, and maybe fucking her if he’s lucky. Hell, even if he does clean himself out as they’re suggesting, he could ask that Bianca be the only one to touch him there. Questions lurk in his mind: What if I can’t go back? What if I let him touch me, and there’s no forgetting or denying it after that? The thought makes him queasy. Blood thunders in his head so that his ears ring even over the white noise of water on the floor of the tub. His thoughts spin, and slowly, Jo bends at the waist, bracing one hand against the wall and using the other to run the stainless-steel tube down over his tailbone. The first touch is nothing remarkable, no different from any other time he’s washed himself in the shower—clinical and disinteresting. Then he gives the tip a little push, and it slides in. It doesn’t go in far—with just water and skin, the insertion isn’t smooth —but it’s enough that a little trickle of hot water seeps into him through the closed outlet. He shudders, clenching. With another push, a whole inch jolts into him, and with a couple more, he’s almost seated at the base of the attachment. Leaning his forehead on the tiles, he reaches behind himself with the other hand, holds the base, and twists. Heat floods into him, and for a moment, he’s frightened, disturbed, and aroused. What if the water is too hot, and he scalds his insides and permanently damages himself? Worse still, what if he comes? However, his worry lasts only for a few seconds; then his body adjusts to the temperature as the hot liquid fills him, the little shaft of metal twisting and shifting at his opening and against the inner walls. When he looks down at himself, he’s half hard. He’s got the attachment on a low-pressure setting, so he can clearly feel the moment the heat and wet inside him spread past erotic and into uncomfortably full. Nausea creeps up his rib cage, and the dizziness increases. He figures that’s enough to start with and pulls the thing back out of himself. A trickle of water follows, running down the inside of his thigh, and Jo is too hot all over. He can’t believe he’s doing this. Suddenly, the reality of the situation occurs to him; the point is to clean himself out, but the drain at the bottom of the bath is not large enough to anything

solid. He pauses, clenching tightly to make sure nothing happens before he’s ready, and then he decides it’s better to get clean water on their floor than shit in their tub. He steps out of the stream, the air in the bathroom cold against his warm skin. What follows is unpleasant and disconcerting enough to kill his erection, for which Jo is thankful. He repeats the process twice, though, until the water comes out clean, and by the end of it, his legs tremble under him, and his head swims as if he’s high. He feels loose, wet, and open inside as he finally turns off the shower, dries himself, and mops up the floor. He stares at his jeans. They’re dirty from the yard and his sweat, and he’s not excited about the idea of putting them back on now that he’s freshly showered, but he, Matt, and Bianca are going to have dinner before they do whatever they’re going to do tonight. After some wavering, he wraps himself in the towel and pads down the hall to ask his hosts what he should do. Next time, he promises himself, if there is a next time, he’ll bring spare clothes. Bianca spots him first, her expression shifting into one of predatory delight. “Did you forget something in here, pretty?” Matt turns to look as well, and when his eyes fall on Jo, his smile echoes his wife’s. Jo reddens. “I, um, didn’t think to bring spare clothes, and mine are all sweaty.” The couple shares a look. “Eat dinner naked,” Matt suggests. Jo’s eyes drop, and his fingers clench around the towel by his navel. “Or if you really want, you can borrow another shirt from me, since you so politely brought back the other one.” “I, uh …” He has no idea what he wants. “What do you want? I’m here for you two.” Bianca beckons him into the kitchen with a finger, and he follows the arc of the manicured digit to its beautiful owner. The steaks are laid out on plates already, still steaming, and Matt’s just finishing with what look like pan-fried potatoes. The smells tantalize him, even though Jo’s appetite is gone after what the cleaning process did to his insides.

Her nails are cool against his belly as she slips her hands around his and under the towel, leaning close to kiss his neck. If he wanted, he could stop her—her motions are slow enough—but he doesn’t. He’s clean and bare in her kitchen, and she’s cooking him dinner, so it’s her right, really, to see him if she wants. The towel drops down against one hip, and she pulls it away, looks down, smiles, and then steps back. Jo glances over at Matt, who’s standing in front of the stove and twists to look at him. Jo glimpses a toothy smile before he’s too mortified to look. Then Bianca moves in close, wrapping her free arm around Jo. He’s still slightly damp, so her palm sticks to his skin as she wraps it around his ass and squeezes. “This all right?” she murmurs into his ear, low enough that Matt can’t hear it through the noise of the air vent above the stove. Jo nods into her hair. He’s electrified; nobody has ever done anything like this to him before. People have wanted to fuck him, yes, and have enjoyed looking at his body, but not like this. He gives her a shy smile, one corner of his mouth lifting. “I didn’t want to get myself dirty again, when I’d just gotten clean for you. But then …” He lets out a nervous laugh. She smiles back and kisses him on the cheek, pressing her clothed body against his naked one, and something about her action is so erotic that he chubs up a little, his blush worsening. “Such a good boy. But let us know if we’re driving over the speed limit. This isn’t a race.” In the end, Bianca fetches a spare shirt and a pair of boxers from the bedroom, and Jo wears them to the table. It feels rude to be eating dinner in what amounts to pajamas while they’re dressed, but Matt strokes his ass through the loose fabric, and Bianca keeps sneaking her hands under the shirt. The food is delicious, just like it smells, and Jo’s appetite reawakens as soon as he tastes his first bite of steak. “Is all of your family still in Morten?” Matt asks. “No,” Jo answers before ing not to talk with his mouth full. A moment es before he continues. “My mom’s the only one who came over, and she died two years back, so it’s just me now.”

Matt and Bianca exchange a look, which worries Jo. What if they think he’s weird for having no family? But that can’t be it. “I’m real sorry to hear that,” Matt rumbles, his hand big and warm on Jo’s lower back. “What about friends? Sweet guy like you prob’ly got lots.” Jo laughs. “Yeah, right. My old friends from Morten—you couldn’t pay them to talk to me these days. They got real into drugs. Heroin and weed mostly, but there’s some meth and Vicodin and stuff too, and I’m not really into that as much as they are. Not much to talk about with people who’re working or strung out all the time, you know? Besides, I moved. I’ve got some friends”—he pauses, not sure he should mention his street friends—“here and there, but I haven’t been as close to them lately.” That’s true enough; he hasn’t signed onto those boards or messenger s in months, and they know better than to him to ask what he’s been doing. If it were of any interest to them, he’d share. “And my coworkers,” he adds, filling the silence. “They’re nice, but we just work together.” He sighs. What is appropriate to tell these two? He forks some of the vegetables and potatoes into his mouth and chews them while he thinks. Once he’s swallowed, he continues. “And this—I mean, I can’t really tell any of them I got blown by an older guy last week, ya know? Wouldn’t go over well.” Bianca looks at him, and there’s something in her eyes that’s almost like pity. Jo looks away. “So what do you do for fun?” she asks. Again, Jo pauses, because the truth is, he drinks, smokes weed, watches bad TV, cleans his bike, jacks off, and occasionally goes to bars to try to meet women, where he generally fails. “Not much,” he answers, which is truthful enough. “When I lived with my mom, I’d help her do housework and cooking on the days we were both home from work at the same time. But I moved out here after she died. Couldn’t afford the place on my own. And cooking and cleaning up after myself doesn’t take long. I miss living with people.”

But he doesn’t miss the fights, the yelling, and the assholes she dated or was fucking. She’d always lived by a “Do as I say, not as I do” model of parenting. “So what about you two?” he finally asks. They tell him, making small talk about their friends and families. Matt is pretty quiet about his history outside of apparently serving in the army at one point, which explains some of his tattoos. Bianca is more open. She talks about growing up in a small town and her misspent youth. She even mentions her kid, which catches Jo off guard. It turns out her son now lives somewhere out east. The fact that the kid is Jo’s age makes Jo a little uncomfortable, especially when Bianca brings out pictures, and the guy turns out to be disgustingly attractive. He looks as if he belongs on Abercrombie and Fitch ments. Eventually, Matt pulls Jo’s chair closer and hauls Jo into his lap. Jo’s bare thighs part to make room for Matt’s bulk between them. Matt settles his arms at the base of Jo’s spine, warm and heavy. “Bianca and I talked about tonight, and we have a few things we’d like to try with you. You all right playing to our tune, or did you have something in mind?” Bianca’s hand crawls up Jo’s knee and across the fine hair there, and Jo can’t imagine anything he wants more than whatever they have planned for him. He says as much, which gets a warm smile and a squeeze of his ass from Mike’s dinner-plate hands. One finger stretches inward, stroking down over Jo’s tailbone to the sensitive skin beneath. Jo’s breath catches as his eyelids flutter. “You got yourself clean and ready for us?” Matt asks. “Yeah,” Jo whispers. “Good. Because I’m gonna tongue-fuck you till you see stars.” Jo swallows, sucking in a harsh breath. He’s done that to women a few times— mostly by accident while going down on them but a few times on purpose because he figured he might as well while he was down there. They seemed to like it okay. He’s never really thought about anyone doing it to him, but now the idea of being spread open for Matt’s mouth sends a shiver of arousal through him.

To their right, Bianca laughs. “Baby, you oughta see your face when he talks to you like that.” How they end up in the bedroom, Jo isn’t sure. He just knows he winds up with his back pressed up against their bedroom wall, shirtless once more, while Bianca takes off her top and Matt’s thumbs rub circles into the muscular divots at his hip bones. Bianca’s even hotter naked; her skin is soft and thin with age but still smooth and beautiful. Her breasts sit high and tight on her chest, but her doctor did an amazing job, because Jo can’t even tell they’re not all flesh. The pale nipples plump outward, the tips pierced with little barbells. Even the by scar that bisects them seems decorative. The two men watch her, leaning against each other, and she smiles, clearly aware of the effect she’s having. “Damn,” Jo says, mostly to himself, because he’s not sure how this is his life right now. “Yep,” Matt says. For a moment, the situation feels normal—just two guys iring a hot chick together. Then Matt pinches Jo’s nipple, and the moment breaks. Jo’s hips buck up against the bigger man. “Kiss me,” Jo whispers, surprising himself with his own bluntness. Matt’s mouth is right there, close but not close enough, and he wants it. Matt doesn’t seem to mind being bossed around, because he obliges, pressing their mouths together until Jo’s opens, as if the prickle of stubble on his face is some kind of automatic garage-door clicker. The slide of Matt’s tongue atop his reminds Jo of what Matt has promised to do to his ass, and he whimpers. Then Bianca grabs them both by the arms. “C’mon, boys. Doing it up against a wall is tacky. If you’re gonna be tarts for Mama, do it on the bed.” A laugh bursts out of Jo at this, and Matt swats her playfully on the arm. She gets her way, though, pulling Jo down on top of her. She must have gotten her pants off while he was kissing her husband, because he feels only soft, bare skin under him, until Matt pulls him back by the hips. “Up on all fours. Present that ass for me.” Blood rushes to his face, and there’s a sense of unreality as he obeys. Matt slips the borrowed boxers down over Jo’s backside. Surely he’s not going to do this, not really. But he is, and the boxers are big enough on him that they stretch down

over his parted legs easily. A stubbly kiss to his tailbone tells him exactly how real this moment is. Instead of diving straight in, Matt’s heavy hands stroke over Jo’s hips and spine, tracing vertebrae and muscles. Jo can’t help the way he flinches from the tickling touch. “Need it harder?” Matt asks. “Yeah,” Jo says, avoiding Bianca’s eyes. Avoiding her gaze is difficult, given that he’s right over her, and he only succeeds until she shoves a thumb into his mouth. “Since you liked sucking on my tongue so much,” she says with a smile. “You okay, babe?” He’s not sure. Rather, he is—he wants this so badly that his cock jerks up and then bounces against the elastic of the boxers on its downswing—but he thinks probably he shouldn’t be as okay with this as he is. If getting blown is fucked up, this is much worse. But why miss heaven by inches? According to most, he’s already damned for the little he’s done, so he may as well keep going. It can’t hurt to add a few more items to his tab. He nods and sucks Bianca’s thumb, tonguing under the nail and along the soft pad. She smiles and nibbles on his ear in repayment, followed by his neck. For a moment, he allows it, and then reality reasserts itself, and he pulls away. “No hickeys,” he gasps. “Gotta work. Sorry.” “Don’t worry about it,” she croons, her mouth soft and sticky against his as her husband’s thumbs spread his ass apart. All the blood rushes to his face and cock, his balls drawing up a little higher against his shaft. The skin between his legs feels tight and stretched, so the view from where Matt’s standing must be obscene. Even having a beautiful woman stretched out beneath Jo doesn’t make this situation any less gay. Sensations blur together—Bianca’s hands on his waist, chest, and face; her fingers between his lips again; the smack of a palm on his thigh; the dig of a thumb into the hollows around the tendons of his crotch; a caress ing back and forth over his balls. His brain loses track of how the events connect until all

he knows is that he’s raw and nervous and wants them. “You’re getting my belly all wet,” Bianca murmurs in his ear. At this point, he can’t get any more self-conscious, so her comment gets a hasty kiss against the corner of her mouth. Most of her lipstick is gone by now, probably all over his face and collarbones. “You still want my mouth, Jo?” Matt asks in a rumble from above, his palm hot at the base of Jo’s spine. He doesn’t want to say it, but the answer is yes. He half turns, not meeting Matt’s eyes, just enough to see the size and shape of him in the dim evening light of the room, and Jo nods. Then he feels warm breath on his tailbone, the scratch of stubble, and the wet tickle of tongue sweeping over the little knob of bone. Jo freezes, waiting as the motions progress downward, so close. At the first over his opening, he crumples, hiding his face in Bianca’s hair till he can smell only her shampoo and perfume. She strokes the back of his neck as the tip of Matt’s tongue circles the ring of muscle round and round. The sensation is not quite a tickle, because Jo doesn’t want to squirm away, but the light touch runs over nerves that seem to be directly connected to Jo’s erection. It’s hard to hold himself still; his hips want to buck, but he tenses his belly and makes himself wait. His ragged breathing stirs the soft hair against his nose. The tip dips into him, just at the entrance, enough to make him realize that he wants it inside him. “Shit.” He tries to catch himself on the expletive but fails—that’s not the association he wants to evoke at this particular moment. He can feel Matt hesitate, so he hurries to assure him that all systems are go. “It’s good. Keep going. Please?” This gets a sharp push as a reward, and Matt’s tongue is inside him. The thrust is brief, and the tongue retreats at once, but then it’s back, twisting. The sensation radiates to his cock and balls, and Jo can’t believe how good it feels. The flesh there is sensitive, and Matt’s tongue is slick yet just hard enough to part him and dart inside. Jo clutches at the comforter under them, forcing

himself to hold still and not do anything awkward, but he wants it deeper, harder, faster, and more. And he’s only just started touching me. I am so fucked. “Up on your hands, sweetie, I wanna watch your face while he does this.” He almost can’t make himself obey; his arms are rubbery, and the thought of being seen like this is mortifying. However, it’d be bad manners to refuse, so he gets one arm and an elbow under himself and squeezes his eyes closed. “God, what a sweet face. I need a picture of you right now, Joey.” It should be humiliating for Bianca to tease him like this, but he’s watched her joke with Matt the same way with love in her eyes, and he can tell there’s no edge to it. He likes knowing how much she enjoys looking at him, even when he’s squirming around with a guy’s tongue in his ass. Matt pauses just long enough to say, “Wish I could see. Next time, we’ll have to do you faceup,” and then his tongue digs deep into Jo. Jo can’t hold in the sharp cry, and his cock jerks so hard it slaps his belly. For several thrusts, he can think only about the words next time, his mind disted as he celebrates the fact that there will be a next time, before his body takes over, and his thoughts shift. Deeper, harder, more. I wish he would fuck me for real. Just think of how amazing that would be. Jo bites his lip at the little frisson of fear this thought evokes, which then turns into an embarrassed twitch when he realizes he can feel himself squeezing around the tongue inside him. Matt moans against him, so he can probably feel it too. Jo wonders if the other man is hard and is touching himself and hopes that he is. The thought of Matt’s cock being ready to fuck him makes Jo shiver again. He wants to know what it would feel like to have a cock inside him. How would it taste? What would Matt look like? Would it even fit? Jo sneaks a peek under his arm, but Matt’s still got his jeans on. The bastard. Matt holds him in place by the hips, adjusting his thumbs to pull Jo wider still, which suddenly allows him depth he didn’t have before. Apparently reading her husband’s mind, Bianca decides that Jo’s nipples need a good pinching.

“Oh fuck!” Jo yelps, the stimulation overwhelming. The tongue and fingers withdraw, replaced by a gentle kiss and a stroke, and Jo decides in a split second that it’s better to have to say it than to let the feeling stop. “No, do it again, please, or just fuck me. I’m so close.” And he is close, he realizes, just from having his ass played with. He hears Matt exhale sharply and hopes that means he’s going to get what he needs. Jo lifts his hips up, trying to make the angle inviting. He doesn’t care how gay this is; he’ll deal with the consequences later. Maybe his life will blow up, but right now, that’s fine as long as Matt doesn’t stop. Jo wants to come like this for Matt and prove that he likes it, because maybe if he can make a show of how good it feels, Matt really will want a next time. Arousal hums between Jo’s thighs, and his arms shake underneath him. “What do you want?” Matt’s voice is huskier than normal. “Your mouth or your dick—whatever! Just please put something in me!” He’s never imagined wanting anything in his ass so much, but right now, he feels as if he’ll die if Matt doesn’t fuck him. Bianca kisses him, making a low sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan, as if his words were just the right thing to say. One of her hands pulls away from his side, where she had it resting on his ribs, and the rhythmic movements that follow tell him she’s started touching herself. Something hard presses against his opening, and Jo’s mouth goes slack, all his attention focusing on the other end of his body. At first, he just feels weight; then he hears Matt spit and feels wetness land on him. Jo can’t wait anymore and pushes backward with his shoulders. It’s not as easy to take as the tongue, because it’s much bigger and harder, but his nerve endings, aching for stimulation, light up all at once as it slides home. He’s making noise—he knows he is—and Bianca’s cupping his face. Something lightly brushes the backs of his thighs. Is that Matt’s balls? He has no idea what’s going on anymore; he knows only that he doesn’t want it to stop. “Please, please, please,” he begs, and he quietly adds to himself, Don’t make me ask you to fuck me. The soft brush of lips on his back and a chuckle from behind him tell him Matt’s

enjoying himself, and he’s glad for that, but he’s even gladder when the thing inside him pulls out and begins to thrust. The motion involves just little movements, hardly even a back and forth, but it drives Jo wild. His toes curl, and his eyes clamp shut. Then the thing inside him presses down, there’s a hot flare of pleasure, and that’s it—it’s exactly what he wants but wouldn’t have known to ask for. When it rocks back and forth over that spot, he starts coming, swearing loudly enough that he hopes he’s not hurting Bianca’s ears as his cock jerks, pulsing underneath him. He hardly even notices his dick around the sensations of being fucked through a climax, until the sensations shift from mind-blowing to overwhelming, and his head drops against Bianca’s shoulder as he lets out a high-pitched whine. Matt’s hand resting on his back is a steadying force as whatever was in his ass is gently pulled out. Matt and Bianca both help him roll onto his side when he finds that his hips and shoulders are sore from holding his position. Wobbly and weak all over, he flops gracelessly and then lets them rearrange him to their liking. “Oh my God,” he says. Then he says it again. “Oh my God. Is it always like that? Oh my God.” “It’s called a prostate, sweetie, but it’s only like that if you’re lucky. You, my dear, have a gifted ass.” He presses his hands over his face as the reality of what he just did sinks in. I begged a man to put his dick in me, and then I came all over his wife. “Was that your dick?” is all he can think to ask, because when he blinks his eyes open and peeks through his fingers, Matt’s still dressed. His question gets a bark of laughter from Matt and a high giggle from Bianca. “Should I be insulted? That was just my finger; I’m a lot bigger than that. Trust me, you’d know the difference if I put my dick in you.” Jo swallows. If that’s how good a finger feels, he’s not sure if a cock will kill him or send him to heaven—or maybe both. “You could never take his dick with just spit, honey,” Bianca tells him, ruffling his hair. “Promise me you won’t let anyone try it.” She pushes herself up onto one arm, looking down at him with a fond smile, her hair falling all around her face. In the sunset light coming through the French doors beside the bed, her

skin looks very pale and her hair very dark. “Okay,” he agrees, and then he watches as Matt shuffles off the bed, stands, and shucks his jeans off in a few neat motions. The first sight of the man’s erection makes Jo’s eyes go wide; the shaft springs free and smacks against the muscular stomach, and yeah, it’s a lot bigger than any of Matt’s fingers. It’s a fair amount bigger than Jo’s too, come to think of it. Thick veins run up the whole thing, and the head has flushed dark purple. It juts straight out from a nest of neatly trimmed white hair, and the balls underneath it hang heavy and low. Jo’s mouth starts watering at the same time his polite instincts kick in again. “Should I blow you now? I owe you one.” He’s not even sure he could fit it in his mouth, but he figures he ought to at least try. It seems only fair. “No way. It’s my turn now!” Bianca says. “Matt got you off; now you’re going to pay it forward and get me off. Then we’ll see if I feel like giving him his happy ending.” “But—” Matt laughs again, interrupting Jo. “Ladies first,” he says, crawling up onto the bed beside his wife. What does that make me? Jo thinks, but he’s not about to say it out loud. Bianca does it for him, though. “Ladies and cute baby queers first. Then big galoots who leave wet laundry in the machine overnight.” Jo can sense an argument he wants no part of, so he changes the subject. “So, uh, what do you want then?” She grins at him, gesturing toward the nightstand on her side of the bed. “You’re gonna get the lube out of there—which Matt should have done for you, but he’s a lazy bastard—and you’re gonna pet my pussy. Then, when it’s purring, you’re gonna get my vibrator out of the nightstand for me, and Matt will show you how to finger me.” “I’ve done this with women before,” Jo protests, not meaning to kick up a fuss.

“Yeah, but I’m a little different, aren’t I? So you’re gonna let Matt show you how.” That’s fair, he supposes; he’s never been with a woman past menopause before, which he’s pretty sure she is. Or she’s close to it anyway. He nods, rolling over and pushing himself up to open the drawer. The lube is in a big pump bottle. The stuff is so thick that bubbles sit frozen in it. It’s almost the same consistency as the gel he used to use on his hair back when he wore it longer in high school. He hasn’t used lube much, but his mom kept a tube of the stuff in her nightstand too. He sits up with the bottle in his lap, and that’s when he gets his first good look at Bianca fully naked. She’s shaved the hair between her legs into a neat little landing strip, like an arrow pointing to the best part, and the lips below it are bare. Jo bites his lip; he wants to go down on her right now, but she’s already told him exactly what she wants. She spreads her thighs, leaning one hand against Matt’s bare stomach as he sits across from Jo. Jo glances at Matt, silently asking, Is it okay if I touch your wife? Really? Matt just gives him an encouraging look, his face languid as though his boner isn’t dark with arousal and still heavy against his hip. The lube feels like hair gel too, cool in Jo’s palm. He rubs it into his fingers, spreading it around and warming it, and when it doesn’t feel as chilly, he lowers a tentative hand to the top of the strip of hair. Bianca rolls her eyes and pushes his wrist down till his fingertip bumps up against her clit, which is firm and bigger than he expected. That, at least, he knows what to do with. He rubs little circles over and across it, as girls have shown him before. He lies down beside her while he does; it’s more romantic that way, he thinks, even though romance probably isn’t a part of this encounter, given that she’s married. “Is this okay?” So far, nothing seems different from what he’s used to, except for the extra lubrication, but he wants to make this experience perfect for Bianca. “Doing fine so far,” Matt answers for her. Bianca smiles in agreement and adds, “You could put that sweet mouth of yours on my tits.” So Jo does, shuffling to the right spot and trying not to lose his rhythm. Her nipples and the piercings in them are cold against his tongue once he gets to them, so he warms them between his lips, first one and then the other. He swirls

the little nub under his fingertip and then picks the nipple closest to him and gives it the same treatment with his tongue. He’s always loved doing this, and it’s enough to make him wish he could get hard again this soon. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Matt squeezing her other nipple between his fingers, and since Bianca doesn’t protest, he supposes her comment about not letting him manhandle them must have been a joke. Matt’s being gentle, though; that much is clear. She squirms, bucking her hips up against Jo’s hand. “Rub me up and down now. Yeah, like that.” His movement spreads the lube down over her opening. She’s not wet at all, and he wonders if that’s because of her age. Pressing his hand flat over the whole of her pussy, he rubs his middle finger up the cleft, and that’s when he feels strange irregularities on the outer lips. For a split second, he’s nervous. What if she’s got a sexually transmitted disease? Maybe that’s why he’s not allowed to fuck her. But the bumps don’t feel like that. The skin there dips and pebbles up as he feels over it, puzzling it out. When the opening of her cunt slides by under his middle finger, he’s tempted to slip his finger inside, but he doesn’t have permission, so he rubs back up and over, her clit running along the inside of his palm. “You want your vibrator?” Matt asks, his voice low and affectionate. When Jo glances over, the man’s cock is at half mast. “Yeah, I think I’m ready. Will you get it for me? He’s doing well, and I don’t want him to stop.” Jo can feel the tips of his ears get even hotter with Bianca’s praise, and he adds a little swirl around her clit at the top of his stroke. “Oh, good boy. You respond well to positive reinforcement, don’t you? I like the trainable ones.” Since he has no idea what to say, he sucks at her breast again, tracing the outside of the areola before flicking over the tip, catching on the piercing and plucking at it. She groans and arches her back up toward him. “Matt, baby, you’re going to

want to try his mouth out on your cock sometime. Guy’s got potential.” At this, everything from his forehead to his collarbones heats up, but it’s dark enough now that they probably can’t see, so he just nods slightly, hoping only Bianca will notice. For some reason, it’s less humiliating to it to her than to Matt that he’d love to be shown how to give head. “Like that idea, huh?” she says, ruining his attempt at stealth. “Foreplay’s done now, though. I’m ready. Your nails trimmed?” They are, thankfully, by sheer chance, though he makes a mental note to make sure they are if he comes back in the future. He nods, and then Matt’s big hand cups the back of Jo’s smaller one. Bianca’s vibrator is pink; the color is vivid even in the darkness, and the material of it is silky against Jo’s palm as it hums to life. It tickles the sensitive skin of his hand, and he likes that. “She’s tight,” Matt says, guiding Jo’s hand into place, and Jo circles the opening. “Start with one finger; she’ll tell you if she can take two.” With that, he pushes on Jo’s wrist, and in the finger goes. Matt’s right; she is tight—extraordinarily so. As it is, there’s barely any room for even his single digit. He twitches a little at the thought of what she’d feel like around his cock, probably tighter than any other girl he’s ever slept with. She smiles up at him. “There are two spots you want to pay attention to,” Matt says, getting up onto his knees and wrapping an arm around Jo’s shoulders. It’s intimate, with his mouth close to Jo’s ear. The memory of where that mouth has recently been makes Jo shift against the bigger man. His ass twinges just a bit, and that’s so hot that his cock lifts, anxious for a second go. “There’s her G-spot; curl your finger up, and press with the flat of it. No, not on the instroke. On the outstroke. Like that.” His finger rubs on the back of Jo’s hand in the correct gesture, and Jo picks up the technique at once. Bianca smiles, which helps, and she wiggles her hips. “To get the other,” Matt says, “you’ll have to sit up. Here. Come down between her legs. Like that.” In this position, Jo notices the wide distance between his body and hers. He’s never liked sex positions that keep him this far away from his partner, as they’ve always made him feel awkwardly impersonal and unfriendly, but he obeys

because this isn’t about him. Matt is even closer now, and together they have Bianca spread out in front of them. A quick, whiskery kiss to Jo’s neck reassures him that he’s not alone up here, and then Matt guides his hand around till Jo’s palm is facing the bed. “Now do the same thing on the other side,” Matt tells him, and as he does, Bianca’s grin becomes huge, her knees and feet shifting. “Yeah, baby, just like that. But put in a second finger,” Bianca says. “You heard the lady,” Matt says. There’s still more than enough lube, but the fit is tight. When there’s no sign of distress from Bianca, who instead pushes her hips down to meet his knuckles, Jo allows himself deeper until his fingertips unexpectedly run aground inside her. She’s so small inside, he thinks. How does she even fit Matt? “Mmm, it’s been a couple days since I dilated, and that feels really good,” Bianca purrs. Behind him, Matt laughs. “Dirty bitch. I probably couldn’t even get my dick into you right now.” “Nope!” “I swear you do this shit on purpose,” Matt says. She gives no response, just shifts the vibrator and moans as Jo curls his fingers down again. He wonders if she likes anal. All of a sudden, her face changes, her lips falling from a smile to an open-mouthed yell. Her heel digs into his knee, and he panics, thinking he’s somehow hurt her. “Are you okay?” he asks, but Matt just holds his wrist in place and kisses Jo’s shoulder. “She’s coming. If you stop, she’ll kill you.” “Yes, I fucking will! Don’t you dare stop!” she growls, and then she clamps around his fingers and collapses onto the bed, her hair mussed against the pillows.

“Oh.” He breathes, blinking at her. “Oh!” “Keep going. She’ll do it again,” Matt says to Jo. “Yeah,” she adds dreamily, and Jo feels about ten feet tall. He’s made a girl scream only a couple times before—and definitely never while her husband was warm and big against his back. He can feel Matt’s chest hair against his shoulder blades, prickly but reassuring. It occurs to Jo as he starts moving again that he can now see the marks he felt on her pussy; they look like scars, one up each side of the lips. He wonders if there was a problem with her pregnancy or if something went wrong with the birth. He’s heard that doctors sometimes cut women’s genitals to get the baby out, but he tries not to think of that right now, because it scares him. She seems fine anyway, and now that he’s paying attention, he can feel her start to tighten up again around his knuckles. The swearing this time is even louder. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” An incoherent yell follows. His blush returns, along with his erection. She huffs out a big breath, pulling the vibrator away and waving at him. “No more. I’m done—mission accomplished.” “Was that all?” Matt snickers. “Usually you’re greedier than this.” “His hands aren’t busted like yours, and his come’s all over my stomach from when you rimmed him. I’d say I’ve had plenty of foreplay.” They laugh with each other as if this is some ongoing joke between them, and Jo can’t help but smile along. He slowly removes his fingers, trying to be as delicate as possible about it, and then sits there with a wet hand, unsure what to do with himself. After a moment, Matt pushes him toward the edge of the bed, and he takes the hint. Once his hands are clean and dry again, he returns and finds them both lying naked on the covers. Matt’s rocking his hips slowly against Bianca’s ass. “You can use my vibrator, you can teach him how to suck dick, or you can do what I want, but really, you should do what I want. C’mon, honey. It’s been forever,” Bianca says to her husband.

Jo doesn’t want to interrupt whatever conversation they’re having, but when Bianca sees him, she beckons him over. “C’mere, Joey boy. Come warm me up.” He crawls back onto the bed and scoots over toward where they’re spooning, unsure how close he should get. He knows this is a threesome, but it’s still hard not to think of himself as intruding on a couple’s private moment. Bianca has her own ideas, of course, and tugs his arm until he’s cozied up close enough for her tits to squish against his chest. He tucks one arm awkwardly under his side and lets the other rest on her waist while Matt’s belly moves against the back of his hand every time the older man inhales. “There. Now I’ve got my man,” Bianca says, reaching behind her to smack Matt’s rear, “and my boy.” She strokes Jo’s arm. “How are you feeling, sunshine?” Like I can die happy, he thinks, but that’s kind of morbid for pillow talk. “Good. Great! That was amazing. You’re both really, um … Thanks.” “Thank you too, sunshine. You’ve got a real deft touch there. My engine can be a little slow to rev sometimes, but you did just fine.” He blushes so hard he can feel his toes curl. “What about Matt, though? Can I do something for him?” He looks at Matt. “For you?” “No, but he can do something for me,” Bianca says before Matt can get a word out. Over her shoulder, Matt rolls his eyes. “She wants to fuck me. But it makes me come too fast, and I don’t wanna give you a false impression.” “Don’t be silly!” Bianca yells playfully. “What’s wrong with giving him the very correct impression that taking it in the ass can feel really good and that everyone, including big, tough daddies, can enjoy it sometimes?” Jo stares at the ceiling. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Matt could be fucked; he had simply assumed Matt wasn’t like that. Matt just gives a long-suffering sigh, watching Jo’s face. “How about it? You wanna see my old lady fuck me?” Matt asks. “I can’t

promise it’ll be a feature-length production, but it makes for a pretty good clip.” “Yeah, if you want to. I’m cool with that.” Jo’s burning with curiosity, but he doesn’t want to make Matt feel obligated. “Okay, Bianca, you win, as usual. Have at my ass,” Matt says. “Oh no, baby, I’m gonna let Jo do it.” Bianca chuckles. “You’ve forgotten about my nails; you really are getting senile. C’mere, cutie. You just got good practice. Get lubed up again; you’re going for a second spin!” Jo has done anal with a few girls before, but it didn’t feature fingering. He just slapped on a condom, lubed up, and eased his way in, hoping for the best. It didn’t end up too badly—on his end at least—but now he realizes a little fingering first is probably a better idea, and the way Bianca talks about it, it seems as if she views it as a necessary preliminary. He tries to think about what Matt did for him, but that started with tongue, and by the time it got around to a finger, Jo wasn’t really paying attention to the finer details, so the memory is not much help as a reference point. His apprehension must have shown, because Bianca takes pity on him, or possibly on Matt. “Here’s the lube,” she says, grabbing the bottle from where it ended up against the head of the bed. Jo takes it, sitting up, and Matt obligingly turns over onto his belly as Jo clambers over Bianca to get to him. She smiles and says, “Use lots, warm it up, and then just start with nice small little circles like you did on me. Don’t push it in right away; he’s even tighter than I am.” There’s a muffled grumble from Matt at that, but when Jo strokes along his flank with one hand, he relaxes. “This isn’t my best side, I know. Bianca’s the one with the ass. But if this doesn’t freak you out, maybe in a few days, this will be you.” Jo’s face burns, his chest closes up, and he can’t breathe. He wants to say, “Why wait a few days? I’m ready now. We could change places,” but he doesn’t, because Bianca wants this instead. He pushes down the top of the bottle, looking

at the other man while the glob warms to the temperature of his hand. Tentatively, Jo moves his free arm down over the older man’s buttock, lifting it with his palm. In this position, he can’t really see what he’s supposed to be going for, but he can see Matt’s cock. The veins squiggled under its skin are evidence of how hard it is again. The heavy balls lie on top of it, their loose skin allowing them to sink to either side of the shaft. He wonders again how it would taste and what it would feel like in his mouth. He tried once to blow himself, wiggling himself up against a wall and bracing his feet against the floor, but he wasn’t flexible enough (or long enough) for it to work, so he has no idea. He almost asks if Matt can get up on all fours and put his cock into Jo’s mouth while they do this, but he hasn’t been invited to do that either. He shouldn’t want it anyway, but the head is so flush, and the slit at the tip looks perfect to dip a tongue into. Instead, he smooths down over the tailbone to the taint, thinking of what Matt did with his tongue. The little bulge of flesh is firm under his fingers, erect like Matt’s cock, and then Jo circles the hole as directed. The muscle there jumps, and that’s when Jo pulls his attention back to the present enough to notice Bianca biting Matt’s shoulder. He circles a few more times, not sure how long he should be doing this. He still doesn’t like how far away from Matt he is while sitting up like this, but presumably, the angle would suffer otherwise. “You just going to drive around the parking lot all day?” Matt asks gruffly. Jo laughs. “Do you, uh, want me to pull in?” “I’ve been waiting to get off for like an hour now; I’m as ready as I’m gonna get. I’ve slowed down with age but not that much.” Jo applies a little pressure to the tip of his middle finger. He finds it hot that he fingered Bianca with it first and now gets to do the same for Matt, even though he privately still wishes he were the one facedown on the bed right now. Despite his complaining earlier, Matt groans and leans back into the intrusion, the huge muscles of his shoulders flexing. Bianca was not lying—Matt is every bit as tight. She chuckles. “I think you’re just the right fit for Papa Bear here; listen to him growl.”

Matt’s insides are hot and silkier than Jo expected. He worries about running into something unwelcome, but maybe Matt cleaned himself out too with the shower attachment, or maybe Bianca has him on a high-fiber diet, because it’s been smooth sailing so far. Jo doesn’t try anything fancy; he just lets his finger sink in. He pauses when he meets resistance at his second knuckle and draws it out to try again. He re this part feeling really good, though he’s not sure if it’s the same for Matt. Bianca mentioned Jo has a gifted ass, though he’s still not sure what that means. “There,” Matt grunts. “Fuck. Right there. Do you feel the bump?” “No,” Jo replies, feeling guilty because he can’t feel anything. It’s all warm and soft and feels about the same; he detects no distinguishing features. “Forward. Right there. Damn. Feel that?” “No. I’m sorry.” “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Just keep at it—harder.” That, at least, Jo can manage. He pushes more firmly, curling his finger like Matt showed him on Bianca, and is rewarded when Matt’s cock jerks against the covers, his hips rocking down. “Fucking hell!” is Matt’s angry-sounding response, but since Jo hasn’t been told to stop, he continues, watching the other man’s shoulders. Bianca smiles at him, giving him a thumbs-up as Matt’s feet lift, his heels fitting themselves behind Jo’s biceps. This time, Jo feels the muscles squeeze as Matt twitches again, his pelvis tilting as if he’s fucking into someone. “You want me to strap on and finish you off, big boy? Or do you want to come on this cute boy’s fingers like a cheap prom date?” Matt flips her off in lieu of an answer. “Mama’s cock it is!” Bianca exclaims. “Let him cool off, Joey. I don’t want him to pop before I get the head in. Ten bucks says he doesn’t make it past two strokes.” “Goddammit, woman! Shut your mouth!” Matt says.

But she just laughs at him, rolling off the bed and crossing to her dresser, where she pulls open a drawer. From inside, she pulls out something beautiful made of soft leather. It’s black and magenta striped, with little leather frills around the sides, near bright silver buckles. Jo can guess what it is; he’s seen things like this in lesbian porn—but never one this pretty before. He loves it immediately. He didn’t even know women used them with men. He withdraws from Matt’s ass as carefully as he went in. When Jo’s finger is out, Matt rolls over onto his back. “My knees are too old for doggy style anymore,” Matt says slowly. “Aw, missionary position then? How romantic,” Bianca teases. Bianca’s picked out a black dildo from the same drawer and is slipping it into the harness. It’s not gargantuan, but it’s definitely wider than Jo’s finger. Matt doesn’t seem worried, though, because he just blows a kiss at her. “Only the best for you, doll face.” Jo isn’t sure if he’s expected to do anything else, but he figures he may as well clean the lube off his hand before he gets it all over the bedspread. He can always slick up again later if they need more. By the time he gets out of the bathroom, Bianca’s in the harness with the silicon cock hanging down between her thighs. She looks exactly as hot in it as he expected, and he’d like nothing more than to drop to his knees in front of her and ask her to put it in his mouth. She probably wouldn’t want that, though, as she couldn’t feel it, not like Matt, and that’s not what’s happening anyway, so he keeps silent. She stands by the edge of the bed, running her hand through Matt’s hair while he looks up at her with a cheeky little half smile. The tenderness between them is palpable, and Jo’s chest hurts as he watches them. They’re so crazy in love with each other that it’s unreal. He didn’t know that type of love actually happened to anyone outside of movies. His second girlfriend looked at him like that, but she still ended up fucking his best friend a month later. Meanwhile, these two had been together for a decade or more. He can’t even imagine relationships in those kinds of time increments. Maybe the fact that they’re allowed to bang other people helps, he thought.

He’s tempted to offer to fuck off and give them their space, but Matt catches his eye first. “Don’t even think about running. You got me into this mess, and you gotta see it through. This could be you soon enough, so get that tight little ass over here.” He goes. Beside him, Bianca gets up onto her knees and gestures for him to give her the lube, and in a moment, she’s slicked herself and hooked both her hands under Matt’s knees to push them up as far as they’ll go. She lifts his ass all the way off the covers. “Gimme a hand, babe?” Bianca asks. Jo wishes he’d stop blushing. His nose and cheeks burn at the request, but he sidles up next to her, reaching over to lift her dildo to the right place. When the tip touches Matt’s ass, she pushes. “Christ!” is the immediate response, and Jo stares as the thing sinks into Matt with ease. This is more like what he re from fucking girls, except none of them had hands whose muscles bulged out of the skin of their forearms as they curled their fists into the blankets. “Christ, Bianca, you’re right on it.” “I know, I know. I’m good,” Bianca replies cheekily. She withdraws and pushes back in even harder. Jo just has time to glance up and see Matt’s eyes roll up before squeezing closed, and then the older man’s mouth curls up into a knot, and he breathes hard through his nose. Bianca’s not gentle; she’s outright jabbing into Matt more roughly than Jo would ever have dared. With Matt’s legs spread like this, Jo can see the precise moment Matt’s scrotum pulls up tight against the shaft, his cock jerking both from Bianca’s motions and from the tensing of his internal muscles. The tendons in his neck cord up, his big feet flex, and then his mouth falls open in a silent shout. Jo stares wide-eyed, his cock jerking with sympathy as Matt comes, the jets hitting Matt’s chest and neck and catching in the salt-and-pepper fuzz. “Goddammit!” Matt gasps. “Okay, more than two thrusts. I concede this one,” Bianca says. “That was more like twenty.”

“Fucking embarrassing. I was even trying to hold out.” Matt snorts, but he turns his head, and the smile he gives Jo makes the boy’s heart flutter and jump in his rib cage. “What do you think? Does it look like a fun ride?” “I, uh … Yeah,” Jo its, scratching at the back of his neck. “I could, uh, probably handle that happening to me.” Understatement of the century. He’s wet against his thigh just from watching it happen. “I promise I last a lot longer when I’m on the other side,” Matt says. “Or you could hop on Mustang Sally there; she goes till you drop.” Bianca tosses her hair. “Yes, I do, but I need my beauty rest now. I’ve done my job here tonight; you boys are on your own if you want more.” “Geez, if you need beauty rest, I need a beauty coma. I’m bushed,” Matt says, still gasping. Bianca shoots Jo a mischievous look as she flips a buckle open at her hip. “Word to the wise, sweetheart: don’t make him come if you want him to be of any use to you afterward. Once he gets off, he’s dead to the world.” “Yes, ma’am,” Jo mutters, privately thinking that he probably wouldn’t last long on the receiving end of Matt’s dick anyway or be much use either after he was done. Ten minutes later, he’s at the front door and dressed in his own clothes, which have dried out by now. Matt’s kiss is cursory and swift, a single quick touch of their lips, but Jo tries not to take it personally; the man looks asleep on his feet and obviously wants to get back to bed. Bianca takes her time, though, licking around and into Jo’s mouth with slow relish before giving his bottom a final squeeze and sending him out into the cooling night air. From his motorcycle, Jo twists to see them waiting in the doorway. Bianca raises her hand in a wave. He wishes they’d let him stay. But he turns the key, and the machine under him roars to life.

Sunday, they’d said. He can make it to Sunday.

The blurb of The Way Forward

Everyone wants a companion and needs a body to warm up to and a heart to receive his or her innermost worries when feeling down. Hilda has spent the majority of her life helping others, especially special kids, whom she works with daily as a teacher after being employed by the local government in Aruba. Work has become her daily fuel, with little space and time for her affections, which she’s bottled up over time. However, her bottled-up emotions begin rearing their head when she least expects it. Her helplessness and loneliness slowly engulf her as she struggles to convince herself she is in good mode and doesn’t need anybody—until she meets Larry, and their hearts yearn for each other with each ing day. Hilda is about to journey on an erotic and emotional ride that has been a long time coming.