July
Stan Winston was sitting in front of the big, flat-screen TV in his living room, idly flipping through the sports channels and sipping a beer when his house phone rang. For half a second he debated not answering, because it was that kind of a lazy day, but only his friends had his house line, and his friends were what made his life as interesting as it was.
He dropped the remote into the caddy and hauled his two hundred-plus pounds up out of the chair, grabbing the handset just after the third ring. “Stan’s Pizza,” he answered.
“Stan?” the quiet voice questioned, unmistakably familiar.
“Jamie?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m in Miami.”
Stan laughed in sheer delight. Jeremy North was a career Army guy he’d met a decade or more ago on one of his many outdoor adventures. Stan never had been able to really enjoy life without the thrill of pushing himself, seeing what he could do with just his body and a few tools against the great outdoors, and Jeremy was cut from the same kind of cloth. They’d hit it off the first time they’d met and had been friends ever since, meeting up whenever Jeremy’s leave gave him enough time to hit the wilderness.
“What are you doing down here?” he asked, cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could retrieve his beer.
“You said if I was ever in the neighborhood, to look you up,” Jeremy said. “So I am.” Stan could picture the “aww shucks” smile on the man’s face, just from the sound of it in his voice.
“Hey, that’s great!” Stan said, meaning it. “Where are you? You have your own car, or are you catching a cab or what?”
“I drove,” Jeremy said. “I just need your address, if you’re sure I’m not interrupting anything important.”
Stan glanced at the muted television and chuckled. “Depends on whether you think the sports recaps on ESPN are important,” he said. “Got a pen?”
“I’ve got a GPS on my phone. I just need the address.”
Stan rattled it off, ending with, “Coral Gables. There’s a security gate in front, and your GPS isn’t gonna tell you the code for that!”
Jeremy chuckled. “Yeah, okay. Do I ring the bell, or…?”
“You get a pen,” Stan chided, “and come on up to the house.”
Half an hour later, a sharp rap on his front door got him out of his comfortable chair again. He opened the door, absently cataloguing the things he’d always known about the man: he was extremely fit, broad-shouldered and narrow through the waist without an ounce of fat on his body, and, like always, he looked like he was standing at attention. His spiky brown hair was cut Army-short, and he had little creases around his wide hazel eyes and mouth even though he was still a young guy, at least compared to Stan. Those lines came from sun and smiling though, and Stan liked them.
“Hey, Jamie,” he greeted, taking in the other details. Jeremy wore blue jeans and a baggy T-shirt that didn’t hide the muscle on his lean frame, and he had one of those big military canvas bags, stuffed full and hanging off his left shoulder. The look on his face was surprised, not quite blank. “What?” Stan asked, frowning in confusion.
“Stan Winston,” Jeremy said and whistled, glancing back at the house’s elegant façade before peering over Stan’s shoulder to look inside. “I knew you were rich, but I didn’t know you were rich.”
Stan chuckled, because it was just the kind of thing Jeremy could say without sounding either too insulting or too impressed. “Yeah, Jamie, guess so,” he replied easily, turning back into the house. “Come on inside. I’ll get you a beer.”
He stopped three steps into the foyer when he realized he wasn’t being followed, and turned back. Jeremy had stepped just inside the door and closed it behind him, but he looked rooted to the spot.
“You need a place to crash for a while?” Stan offered. Some people didn’t like to ask.
“I need more than that,” Jeremy said, and his handsome face took on a look of determination. “I’ve done my twenty—just got discharged three days ago. It’s time to figure out what I’m going to do with my next twenty.”
“And?” Stan asked.
“And there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now,” Jeremy said, dropping his bag on the white tile floor and watching him closely. “I’m gay.”
Stan digested that fast enough and shrugged. “Okay.”
The next thing that happened took a little longer to digest. Jeremy moved in fast, pushed him back against a cool plaster wall in his own foyer, and laid a full-frontal assault on his mouth.
At first Stan was too shocked to stop him, numb even as he registered discrete sensations: soft mouth, aggressive tongue, beard stubble… the automatic defensive response that told him to bring his knee up and do some serious damage to his assailant. But by the time the shock faded and along with it the reaction that might have cost Jeremy his balls, Stan learned something else: Jeremy North was exactly what he’d been missing all his life.
If he had any doubts, they were erased by the time Jeremy dropped to his knees, opened Stan’s pants, and blew him right there in the hall.
Panting, bumping his head gently back against the wall as he just stood there and accepted one of the best blowjobs of his life, he rode it out wordlessly, fingers scrabbling against the plaster, trying not to shout so loud that he rattled the windows when he came.
Jeremy sat back on his heels when it was over and smiled up at him, still holding his tingling erection by the base. “You, uh, okay with this?” he asked.
Stan laughed again, because after fifty-six years of doing pretty much exactly what he wanted to, he didn’t surprise himself much anymore. “Yeah,” he said, tipping his head to look down at his groin and Jeremy’s hand there. “It looks like I am.”
Some things, though, took time.
He was unsure the whole first day about whether he’d like the feel of another man’s cock in his hand. He did.
For most of Jeremy’s first week in his house, Stan had trouble picturing himself enjoying having one in his mouth—no trouble there, either, it turned out. He learned, too, that doing a guy who liked it in the ass was a whole lot like doing a woman who liked it in the ass.
That first week, they never left the house, and on their first Saturday afternoon together, Jeremy called him out on that one. They were naked in the deep end of the pool when Jeremy stopped horsing around and hooked an elbow over the pool’s edge to hold himself up without having to tread water. “Look, I know I sprung something pretty big on you, Stan. I get how new this is for you, and I’m goddamned glad you like how things are going so far. But I didn’t come here to be your private fuck toy.”
What’s wrong with being my private fuck toy? Stan almost asked, because politeness wasn’t really one of his stronger traits. He stopped himself though, hooked his own arm over the edge of the pool, and asked instead, “What did you come here for?”
“I came here,” Jeremy said, staring at him intently, “because I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you. But I spent twenty years hiding who I am. I’m done with that. I’m not hiding anymore. So if you can’t handle leaving your house with me or people knowing, tell me now.”
Stan thought about that for a minute as he treaded water, trying to picture going to a party with Jeremy on his arm. Having a romantic dinner in some swanky restaurant, just the two of them. Going bowling together, and kissing him when one of them made a strike. How things might be after Jeremy, not quite twenty years younger, got bored hanging out with an old guy like him and moved on.
Part of what Stan truly liked about himself was how willing he was to face up to who he was. What he was. What he liked and what he didn’t.
He eased forward in the water, letting go of the edge and wrapping both arms around Jeremy’s waist, kissing him even as Jeremy let go, too, and they sank for a second under the water’s surface. When they kicked back up for air, Stan looked at him. “You like fancy parties?” he asked. They’d only shared outdoor adventures and a few bars together, so far.
“Well enough,” Jeremy said, looking wary.
“Then let’s get out of this pool and go buy you a suit, because I was going to ditch one tonight. I think we ought to go so you can meet some of my friends.”
Another kiss, another near-drowning, and this time when they surfaced for air Jeremy grabbed the pool edge with one hand and Stan’s rising cock with the other. “Sounds good,” Jeremy said, laconic as hell.
Stan grabbed the pool’s edge, too, and tried to thrust into that strong, skilled hand. “You, uh, mind being my personal fuck toy, too, though? In private?”
Jeremy laughed out loud.
After that, the time just flew by. And while he hadn’t yet done more than picture himself being the guy on the bottom, he figured that would happen eventually, too, and that this relationship was just about the most exciting and satisfying of his admittedly fantastic life.
