Playing with Matches

Still, Cole couldn't stop eyeing the V of light-cream skin under Tod's peach-hued skin. What beach in the world would permit Tod to wear panties under the sun? Pensive with this mystery, Cole ogled the muscle balls of Tod's buns and the moistness of Tod's skin. Cole allowed his eyes to slink up, and he began to relish the curves of brawn on Tod's back.

Clearly, Cole was gayer than he thought. Why else would he be admiring the physique of a guy? The question alone brought Cole to the verge of panic.

Again, Rick knelt behind Tod. Heck, Rick didn't even remove his black pants and white briefs the rest of the way.

Something about the animality of this brought a familiar sensation to Cole's balls.

Rick fed his cock into Tod's butt crack. Rick pushed, slow as a dentist's hand inserting a mouth guard full of toothpaste into a patient's mouth.

Tod rolled his drunken eyes. Then, he lowered his squarish chin toward the front cushion of the beige davenport.

Rick's dick finished disappearing into the zipper of Tod's behind.

Watching this reminded Cole of a boyhood friend spreading tales of toothed vaginas to try to keep rival lads away from girls. With Tod's ass being a truly taboo place, Cole could only wonder if Tod had anything dangerous in there—other than what was to be normally expected.

Rick's rumps looked like yellow-white milk turned into sculpted cheese. Rick began to pump into Tod, and the muscle threads of Rick's duff flexed.

Cole's birdie started to throb.

Rick plowed Tod's chute harder.

Tod began to scrub himself underneath.

Rick heaved. "You like cock up your pooper?"

Tod turned his peach-hued face back and nodded in bobs of frenzy.

"You better because you have one hot set of hind boobs." Rick slapped Tod's right knocker!

Tod moaned.

"That's what you get for fucking my wife."

"She has one hot cunt," Tod said.

"She does?" Rick rumbled.

"Yeah," Tod said freshly.

"Is this how you fuck her on Friday nights?"

"Harder," Tod growled.

"How about now?"

"Harder!" Tod howled.

Rick pistoned harder than a pestle pounding a mortar.

Tod jolted as if to a bumping bus.

"Take my fucking cock!" Rick brayed.

Back forward, Tod turned his somewhat diamond face.

Through Tod's dishwater-blond hair, Rick zagged his fingers of light cream. "The luckiest kid in North Carolina—"

"Off North Carolina," Tod corrected.

Rick stopped shagging Tod's bottom. "What a brat!"

Rick resumed bucking his lean hips. He slithered his left hand up the oilskin of Tod's back and said, "See if you can take this." On this, Rick pulled Tod's blondish hair where it parted fuzzily on the right side of the front.

Tod moaned.

Rick kept Tod's dirty-blond hair bunched in his grip.

"Ah! Ah!" Tod ballyhooed.

"Na, na, na," Rick warned. "No complaining if you know what's good for you."

Tod whimpered.

Rick pulled Tod's hair more brusquely.

Thanks to Rick's grip, Tod's soft face now faced the white ceiling.

Tod whined, "Why don't you go pull Jennifer's hair?"

"So you want to be treated like a doll, huh?" Rick said.

"Fuck you!" Tod spat.

"What did you say?"

"I said, 'Fuck you.'"

"You little rug rat," Rick answered. As if holding the reins of a horse, he kept his fingers clawed on the ash-blond wisps atop Tod. Rick bucked his pale hips so fast onto the ( of Tod's rumps that, for a moment, it seemed like Rick would vaporize.

Tod wailed.

"You still want to fuck me?" Rick said.

"I'd rather have your cock catch my germs," Tod said boldly. "That way, you can catch an infection, and I can get Jennifer pregnant."

"You incorrigible genius," Rick said, his bully tone fluctuating wildly. Rick loosened his grip on Tod's hair and slithered his left hand down the pinkish muscles of Tod's back. With his right hand, Rick buffeted Tod's heinie.

"Ugh!" Tom crackled … and jerked forward as if taking a dump.

Cole began to stroke his huge dick downward.

"The luckiest kid in the South," Rick said, "with a sugar daddy to lend him his wife and home. And Toddy boy gets smart with me?"

Tod glinted back. "I'm not getting smart."

"No?" Rick cuffed Tod's butt.

Rump-to-head, Tod's body wavered like an ocean wave. Again, his delectable nose faced forward.

Slap!

"Stop!" Tod blubbered.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Even Tod's hair jittered—and the dirty-blond strands were cropped like wheat stalks sickled to the ground.

Cole let his grip slip off his hot dog. The scene before him was so expertly crafted that Cole began to wonder if Tod and Rick had planned this beforehand.

Tod's voice cracked. "I need punishment."

"I bet you do," Rick grizzled behind one of Tod's attached earlobes. "After all, you wouldn't be sneaking to my wife's bedroom if you had discipline." Whack on Tod's right butt!

"Yeah," Tod said. "Set me straight."

"And the fox telling me what to do, too," Rick said. Whack on Tod's left butt!

"Ouch!"

"You better not whine," Rick said. "Or else, I'll give you this."

"Aahhh!"

Cole almost came. Was gay sex this kinky?

Rick's brogue came out stronger than usual. "You have one serious behavior problem."

Again, Tod twisted his suave neck back. "No, I don't."

"A smart alec, too," Rick said. He spanked Tod so hard that the thrash sounded like a whip.

Tod's head shook left, and he grabbed one of the beige throw pillows.

Rick seized the buckskin thing. "No, you don't." He threw the pillow right. "You're not biting any part of this sofa. Want to get me into trouble with my boss?"

"Woof, yes!" Tod said. "Then, I can see you get a good nailing from him."

"You impudent piece of—" Smack! Smack! Smack!

Cole could barely hold it any longer.

The buckskin cushions of the davenport squashed fast. Rick's balls, in turn, slapped Tod good and hard—and sounded like horseshoes trotting down a leaf-covered walkway in the distance.

Thicker blobs of glue seeped up Cole's urethra.

"Uh!" Cole whiffed hornily.

Rick oinked the cry of a hog.

Tod panted like a Daschund.

"Fucking queer wanker," Rick said. "I can't believe I'm about to—" He threw his hooded eyes back, squinched them into the eyes of a hawk, and snarled like a wolf in a forest. Rick's shapely nates scrunched like soccer balls collapsing to an onslaught of fists.

Cole squeezed his bird eggs, desperate to relieve the tension there.

At last, Rick fell on the yellow rug.

* * * *

Tod turned his almond eyes over his right shoulder. "Are you gonna fuck me or what?"

Cole racked his brain for an answer.

"Tell me quick 'cause I'm close," Tod lipped.

Should Cole open the last third of this Pandora's box? Should he risk letting the genie out of the bottle? Cole's head told him, no! His sausage and chestnuts whooped, yes! "If I weren't so loaded, I might be able to resist this … thing," Cole said. "But if I delay any more, I'm fuckin' gonna explode."

Back forward, Tod turned his supple face.

Cole slid his tawny feet off his black beach slippers. He knelt behind the sleeping bag of Tod's body and pressed his erection into Tod's cleft.

Rick's whey coated Cole's dick and squished through the line between dick and tunnel. Rick's semen was so warm, viscous, and daring.

Cole's mind almost reeled into a nosedive. How, he wondered, could reproduction get this warped? How could nature allow Cole to enjoy his cock in such a vulgar place?

Cole's stick fit in Tod's tube as perfectly as a lightbulb into a socket.

"Bro," Cole exhaled. "This feels incredible!"

Tod turned his sexy eyes back. His pupils were larger than ever. "You like my tush?"

"It's tighter than the handshake you gave me when we first met," Cole replied.

"I was real polite, wasn't I?" Tod said.

"You sure had me fooled." Cole began the in-out thing. "But tonight, you've shown your true colors."

"You haven't seen anything, yet," Tod said. He turned his horny eyes forward and started to hump his heinie's V of light cream under peach onto Cole's wiener.

"Fuckin' junior high!" Cole said.

The beige cushions let out muffled shushes.

Cole sped his thrusts.

"Alright!" Tod said. He pleasured himself underneath, and his butt cheeks jostled like pudding.

Cole slapped Tod's duff.

"Ahh!" Tod said.

Cole's Tennessee drawl started to really come out. "You think you can fool people."

"Don't know what you mean," Tod lilted.

"Sure you don't," Cole said. "Actin' straight out there and queer in here."

"Mmm-hmm! Mmm-hmm!"

Cole growled, "Is that how you attract straight cock into your butt?"

"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!"

"Then, take ma glue," Cole said. Slap on Tod's right rump! Slap on Tod's left rump!

"Harder!" Tod grunted.

"I'm fuckin' gonna spank your buns till they turn to tomatoes!" Slap! Slap! Slap!

"God!" Tod screamed.

"You're a doll," Cole said. "You know that?"

"How does that make you feel?" Tod talked back.

"Lak fuckin' your brains out," Cole gruffed.

"Then, do it!" Tod yelled.

"God, I will," Cole roared. "God, I will!"

Tod's rectum kept masturbating Cole's hot dog. The harder Cole fucked Tod, the harder Tod's bowels jerked off Cole.

"I see your ass has sucked all of Rick's spunk," Cole said. "Here, let me push his cream deeper into you." Thrust!

Tod shook. "Yeah! Give it to me."

"That way, you can have some extra nutrition," Cole drawled. Thrust!

"Deeper!" Tod said.

"Not deep enough?" Thrust!

"Deeper!" Tod said louder.

"You little piece of—" Thrust! Thrust! Thrust!

"Oh, yeah!" Tod said, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

Cole lost it! His dick sprayed one, two, four, eight times up Tod's ass.

Tod tightened and relaxed his anal ring—over and over and over.

Cole kept squirting and squirting and squirting.

Tod quaked as if to a tremor.

Finally, Cole collapsed on Tod.

IV

Cole brimmed with thirst under the noon sun. He picked up his redneck gait, if nothing else, to get to a drinking fountain.

The fiberglass structure neared Cole. On top, the two-story affair read,

Cole fixed his black sunglasses and skimmed the parking lot. So many cars, jeeps, pickups, and SUVs! So many suns on their chrome surfaces.

What if Sheena spotted Cole's van there—let alone, him? Cole thought. Should he return to his pale-blue van and try to find a weekend assignment elsewhere?

Cole stepped under the green awning of the walkway and hurried into the place.

Two dark-haired men with crew cuts were holding the hands of a woman, and the woman was sandwiched between the guys.

Cole scowled in bafflement.

The men cast their IDs onto the granite counter, and their biceps rippled by their blue tank tops of spandex. The lady had orange leotards of nylon and waist-long curls of apricot.

How was this scene possible? Cole wondered. Weren't men supposed to fight over women?

The triad glided past the grayish counter, and Tod scanned the IDs.

Cole said, "I didn't know you work here."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Tod replied in his sophomoric voice.

Cole narrowed his eyes on Tod's T-shirt.

The white-under-tint shirt read,

Cole wanted to see things with his own eyes, but he dared not remove his black sunglasses. How, Cole wondered, could anyone be so open and at ease about being a pansy? Cole decided to brave it. "I see wha you 'n Rick lured me into what we did last night."

"What did we do?" Tod said.

Cole playfully backhanded Tod's forearm.

Tod flashed a saucy grin at the waxed mega-tiles of the white floor—and revealed his white incisors of china.

Cole returned to Tod's rhetorical question. "You wanted me not to react to that threesome that just passed us, so you trained me on the boat."

"You need Rick's assignment," Tod crinkled with his Piedmont cadence. "You might as well become comfortable with these surroundings.

"I'm not where you're at," Cole said. "Far from it."

"Your wife is in Kentucky," Tod said, somewhat raising his soft-spoken voice. "I'm sure you can relax your guard here. Besides, Sheena ought to understand your need to make a living."

"Most wives don't give their husbands a lot of choices," Cole piped. "If you had any experience in the real world, you'd know that."

Tod lowered his almond eyes, raised them slowly toward Cole, and spoke with calculation. "I feel your anger."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Tod went on, "Anger at being forced to deny yourself for so long."

"Shut up," Cole warned.

"I think you resent your wife for that," Tod said glibly.

"Are you deaf?"

"Rick and I can help you loosen up some more," Tod said.

Cole glimpsed the empty environs immediately around him and returned to Tod. "Is this your way of manipulatin' men into fuckin' you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I bet," Cole said.

Sounds of dropping weights, whirling machines, and pounding sneakers washed over Tod and Cole like autumn leaves.

Tod whispered, "Rick has another place lined up for us."

"Now, you're really not gonna see me take off these sunglasses," Cole said.

"You and I got more in common in bed than you realize," Tod said.

"What are you gettin' at?" Cole barked.

"For a man who never gets a rest from being in charge, you ought to know what I mean."

How could an 18-year-old know so much about the inner workings of a 30-year-old man? Cole thought. Tod was right—so right—but Cole couldn't admit it to himself.

Tod lilted, "You're certified to repair electronic equipment, right?"

"Of course!" Cole snapped.

Tod picked up a shiny, black receiver, gargled some nonsense into it, and hung up. "Wait in the lobby—and I advise you to take off those sunglasses if you want Rick's boss to hire you."

Reluctantly, Cole bid Tod a nod. Slowly, Cole turned to the white futon of a settee. He thought, How well Tod walks that tightrope between loose and professional.

Tod hollered, "Don't forget about Friday night."

The words hit Cole like lemon drops an eye. If only Cole could talk to Rick about "getting a rest from being in charge."

V

The log cabin straggled off into the woods. Were it not for the leafy beeches, hemlocks, and hickories, Cole might have seen the other cabins. At least, the waning gibbous moon illuminated the trail of leaves up the foot of the mountain. The leaves crunched under Cole's brown brogans. Sleek and shoulder-long, Cole's sandy-brown hair undulated in the cool breeze.

This was the type of getaway that, three years ago, Cole had arranged for his wife. Man, Cole recalled, was Sheena ecstatic at our honeymoon. Now, Cole found himself at the other side of the coin, and part of him quivered at the implications. Had Tod come along, Cole wouldn't have felt as jittery. But Rick insisted that Tod "didn't take charge in bed, except to fuck the occasional girl." Beyond that, Rick wouldn't say.

The porch steps of wood rapped to Rick's black hiking boots and to Cole's brown brogans. Rick pushed the panel door of hickory, and it creaked open.

Cole strolled past the silver threshold.

Rick ankled into the log cabin and closed the wooden door.

The door squeaked a low oh and clicked shut. Like a mouthful of fizzing soda, a scent of wood shavings prickled Cole's narrow nostrils.

"Let me guess," Cole said. "Your boss's cabin."

"Nah," Rick said, "although Henry is about to buy one." Rick slid the door latch of metal.

The ping tickled the insides of Cole's ears. Seldom, Cole thought, had he been so sensitive to stimuli. This made Cole feel less manly than usual. Worse, Cole began to relish the feelings that this engendered in him.

Rick clacked past Cole and left the smell of woodruff in his wake.

Cole scratched the tip of his straight nose and lowered his swarthy fingers.

"This is leased," Rick said. He stopped by the skin-of-tiger print of a loveseat and spun toward Cole.

Cole drawled, "What we're about to do is highly illegal."

"That's why bis and polys are challenging the law books in court," Rick replied.

"Polys?"

"People who believe in the freedom to have sexually expressed relationships with more than one person at a time," Rick said. "They're going to court so that people like us don't have to do it like this."

"Do what?"

"Do what your heart aches to do," Rick said.

Was that an answer or a command? Cole wondered.

Rick continued, "I saw your expression in the boat."

Cole contorted his oval face in self-disgust. "What expression?"

"When you were fucking Tod," Rick said. "You couldn't believe his enjoyment at being stuffed like a wild turkey."

"I thought you had dozed off—after that wrenchin' orgasm you had."

Rick kept at it in that rolling voice of his. "Your eyes said how much you wanted to know how Tod felt."

Cole didn't like the sound of that. Yet, he itched for more of those words.

Rick sauntered toward Cole and halted a foot from him.

At six feet, Cole angled his eyes toward the slightly shorter Rick.

"Tonight," Rick began, "I'm going to make you find out how Tod felt."

Dipping his forehead, Cole tipped his eyes at Rick and arched his khaki eyebrows.

"Don't look at me that way," Rick said. "Why don't you just admit it?"

"What," Cole stated.

"You know what I'm referring to," Rick said.

Cole's willy hardened at the prospect. But to concede that he wanted to take a break from his role at home was too much—especially, for a masculine guy with rugged good looks.

Rick's baby blues didn't let up on Cole's irises of honey-brown. The lamps of the room glistened on Rick's cornea as if they were the balls of a Christmas tree. In Rick's eyes, lust and passion stirred like corn and peas in a roiling boil of soup.

Cole's heart jiggled like a fighter plane struck by enemy fire. In a jiff, Cole's blood flew through him as if it were cold water streaming down his esophagus.

Rick's lax lips inched closer to Cole's tense lips.

"Don't," Cole heaved.

Rick stopped with a jolt. "Say it, then," he whispered.

Cole's nut sack blushed, and his penis pulsated as though it were a swollen thumb. "I confess!" Cole shouted. "I wanna suck dick, and I wanna get fucked!"

Rick continued to rock Cole with his eyes of fury.

Suddenly, they kissed—roughly, breathlessly, and inventively. Each set of lips sipped sloppily from the other set of lips. Cole moaned like a piglet starving for milk. And Rick groaned hungrily under his breath. The more they sucked each other's lips, the more famished and parched they got.

Rick undid the white buttons of his burgundy shirt, the one with short sleeves.

Cole pulled up his horizontally striped polo shirt of black and green.

The men unglued their lips, ripped their shirts off, and slapped their palms onto each other's backs.

The clothes whumped onto the wooden boards of the polished floor like chunks of snow fallen off two spruce pines.

Rick and Cole pressed their hard pecs together; the guys flickered their tongues; and their tongues fenced as if combatants at a sports championship. The guys' hard-ons rubbed together through Rick's black pants and through Cole's mahogany corduroys.

Cole got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was crossing a bridge of no return. Sure, Cole had fucked Tod. But getting fucked was another matter.

Rick hoicked himself away from Cole, picked him up, and carried him to the bright bedroom. There, Rick dropped Cole onto the king-size bed.

The mattress uhed as though it were a chap and someone had punched him in the belly.

Rick unhooked his black belt of leather and undid his black pants of cotton.