Beth
Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
***
Circa 1987
Michael and his new friend clinked tall glasses of iced lemonade. It was spiked.
“You’re 21,” the older man said, “right?”
“19.”
“Oh well, who’s counting?”
They drank. Both men were naked. They’d been naked at the beach and now, a mile or so further up the causeway, they were naked again inside the man’s bungalow. The old-fashioned jalousie windows were cranked open and a steady breeze was blowing in. Despite the midday heat outside it was pleasant inside the small, concrete-block home with its surround of hibiscus and broad-leafed banana plants and other tropical flora. The house, itself just a couple of blocks off the glittering bay, and another less explicit curve of beach, had been built for hurricanes.
It was pleasant inside despite the overhead sun and the absence of air conditioning. But then again both men had stripped naked upon arriving. The waves of inflowing breeze cooled their bare, suntanned skin.
“This is good,” Michael said, observing his tall glass as if he’d never tasted lemonade before, spiked with Smirnoff or otherwise. From a short distance, a few minutes ago, Michael had watched his new friend take a can of frozen lemonade from the round-shouldered fridge that looked to be the same vintage as the house, and its slatted windows, take it out, open one end and then slowly shake the frozen cylinder out into a translucent green plastic pitcher. Watching this Michael couldn’t help but think about the cock that had so recently been in him. Not this man’s cock but another’s. The way he’d pushed in slowly, thickly, a little painfully despite the lube, at first. This was like the reverse of that.
The frozen cylinder finally plunked into the bottom of the pitcher and now Michael watched as his friend added water from the tap and then began stirring it with a long wooden spoon.
“You want to stir this while I get us some glasses?”
“OK,” Michael volunteered.
As Michael took the man’s place at the counter his friend gave his behind another pat, saying, “I love this ass!” Adding, from the nearby open cabinet door, “That was quite a show you two put on.”
Michael smiled, but otherwise didn’t respond. He just kept stirring in a rhythmic wooden circle.
“Do you know that guy?” the man asked, two tall glasses with flamingoes patterned on their sides in hand.
“He’s another regular at the beach,” Michael replied. “I see him most Saturdays.”
“Does he fuck you every Saturday?”
“No. This is the second time, I think.”
“You think?”
Michael got the grinning man’s point. “The second time.”
“Well it was quite a performance,” the man repeated. He’d taken an icecube tray down from the freezer, the old-fashioned kind of aluminum tray with the lift-up handle? That breaks the cubes free? Michael noted that, unlike his mom, the man dropped the ice cubes into the glasses, not the pitcher. That way the melted ice wouldn’t dilute future pours of the lemonade. He also splashed generous amounts of vodka not in the pitcher Michael was still stirring but in each of the flamingo glasses. It all made sense. That way if you wanted a glass of unspiked lemonade down the road, you could have it. Besides, it would take a hell of a lot of Smirnoff to spike a pitcher. An entire fifth? This way was far more practical.
Sometimes when Michael was in the kitchen like this with his mom, and she had just come in from sunning herself, in her bikini, their bodies would güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri accidentally bump and Michael would get a secret thrill. If he was wearing nothing but his Speedo he might just have to run to the bedroom to pull on a pair of baggy shorts. Mom!
The good thing about sex with other men was that you didn’t have to hide your passion. On the beach, in the kitchen, anywhere.
“How are we doing here?” the man asked, leaning in, hand once again falling to Michael’s ass. His left cheek only this time, which he gave a squeeze. The hand cold—from the ice. “Let’s give it a few more minutes. I’ll take over if you want…”
Michael gave way. You didn’t have to hide your passion but it could still embarrass you. Michael’s penis wasn’t erect but it was engorged, and curving downwards, sort of the way it had been while he was being fucked in the shade of the mangroves. Now Michael slid to the right, down the counter, hoping his new friend wouldn’t notice. Not yet anyway.
He did. “Someone’s happy!” the man grinned. He had hold of the handle of the wooden spoon again, the lump slowly dissolving below, in liquid that somewhat resembled sudsless dishwater. Michael and his mom would do the day’s dishes together, after dinner.
“So this guy who was fucking you on the beach…” (We’re back to this again, Michael thought?) “…he’s just a casual acquaintance but you let him bareback you?”
It was as if the remaining frozen lump were in Michael’s throat. He swallowed it, best he could.
“Yeah,” the 19-year-old managed to choke out. His new friend, who was taller, thicker bodied, was looking at him, down at him.
“You think that’s a good idea?”
Michael lifted a bony left shoulder in half-shrug. “Probably not?”
“Have you gotten the vaccine?”
“Not yet.”
“I got mine last year,” the man boasted. As if to say: When we fuck you won’t have to worry. “I’d strongly recommend it if you plan on remaining sexually active. And for my sake”—smile—”I hope you do. I’d get it done as soon as possible if I were you, before the thing gets banned.”
Michael looked over sharply at his new friend, who wore a day or two’s half-greying beard growth. It stung a little when he kissed you. It was like sandpaper as his tongue invaded. “Why would they ban the vaccine?”
“Because the new government coming into power is opposed to such things?”
“What things?” Nothing about this had been mentioned in any of Michael’s contemporary history classes at the local community college…
“All of this,” the naked older man informed his new friend. “Us like this. Gay people. Gay sex. Gay love. Gay marriage.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Michael said. “About the vaccine, I mean. Why would they want people to…?”
The man allowed himself a laugh, a soft, short one. “Maybe they’re trying to get rid of us? At any rate, I wouldn’t wait. I’d get the vaccine in the next 30 days or so. If you need a gay-friendly doctor I can…Do you have health insurance?”
“Sort of. My mother does through her job. A little.”
“You live with your mother?”
Michael nodded.
“Father?”
“Long gone. Him and my mom divorced when I was little. I don’t even know what he looks like.”
“Well we’re two peas in a pod then,” the man said, extracting the spoon and tapping it against green pitcher’s rim. Inside, the liquid was still circulating, clockwise, as if of its own dying volition. “I have a son about your age. Somewhere. We’re estranged. Or I should say, his mother and güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri I are.”
“Where’s he live?”
“My son? Don’t know. His mother’s completely shut me out. Suppose I should try to find out someday, huh? Private detective? Let’s have a cold drink, shall we?”
Michael, on an empty stomach, was already feeling a little woozy. His mom couldn’t hold her liquor either. Two glasses of wine with dinner and she was asleep on the couch in her underwear a half-hour later, dishes done, snoring softly. Michael and his new friend were on their second “lemonade.”
As they faced each other, naked, chatting, sipping their drinks, the man’s relentless free hand continued either fondling Michael’s little balls, stroking his half-limp cock or, once again, reaching around and squeezing his ass. Michael sensed what was coming. In a few minutes he’d be on his elbows and knees on the man’s bed bottoming for the second time this morning. Being barebacked. Or was it afternoon now? This man would shoot his load in him just like the other horny guy on the beach had. This fuck would be easier though. Michael’s hole was already nicely opened up. After the beach fuck, after his new friend had approached him and invited him to his bungalow down the road, Michael, inside the back of his Speedo under his shorts, had tucked a few tissues. Just in case the man’s sperm decided to leak out of him while mounted to his Schwinn’s narrow, hard saddle. His mom would be wondering where he was, though. Normally he arrived back home late morning.
“For the life of me I don’t understand why you insist on riding your bike all the way out to the causeway,” she would say. Her constant refrain.
“It’s the best beach, mom. The closest.”
“I know but it’s dangerous. You don’t even wear a helmet, Michael!”
“It’s safe. I leave early. There’s very little traffic at that hour, mom.”
“Yeah and it’s hard to see at that hour! If you didn’t insist on leaving so early the two of us could go to the beach. I wouldn’t mind going to the beach now and then, you know! And we could take my car!”
“Mom…I like going early, OK? Before it gets hot and I roast. I can’t help it if you like to sleep in on Saturdays…”
“Yeah. And you wake me up, too. Five in the morning?”
“Six.”
“You know what? You remind me of your dad. Early riser. It’s in the genes, I swear. Like father like…”
“More lemonade, son?”
“OK. Sure,” Michael said uncertainly, unsteadily, drunk. After they arrived at the bungalow, Mike trailing his new friend’s ancient Ford station wagon on his bike, he’d been led around the house to a backyard patio. Faded reddish pavers. More surrounding flora. There he’d been told to strip and a hose had been turned on him. Not ON him. The man had held, laughing, a garden hose nozzle turned to the “shower” setting over Michael’s head, washing all the sand off. Washing the sand off both of them, in turn. Then Michael had been instructed to bend over and spread his cheeks and, head dialed to a more powerful setting, the hose had blasted his well-used crack. It was fun. They’d both laughed, the water warm at first but turning cold. Ooh!
“I just don’t want sand all over my house,” Michael’s new friend had explained, not that it was needed. Then a rain-stiff striped towel draped over the back of a cheap folding chair had been tossed Michael’s way, and he’d dried his lithe young body off best he could.
They were now on their third spiked lemonade, Michael’s balls cupped in his new friend’s familiar güvenilir bahis şirketleri right hand.
“You shave ’em. I like it,” he said. “Soft…”
“So do you.” Michael had at last reached out, returned the favor, reciprocated. His new friend’s balls were bigger than his, much. They were a warm handful. A pair of ripe plums. “My mom doesn’t understand…”
“Understand what?”
“Why I shave.”
“Your mom’s seen your shaved balls? This is news!”
Michael stumbled, mentally. Drunk. Bowed his head. His new friend was getting hard now. Harder. He was erect. Michael gave the man’s cock a stroke. It was a nice one, beautiful. Not as big as the guy’s on the beach but nice. Veiny. Michael wanted the man’s cock in him. He wanted to submit. Receive his load of sperm, however much.
“By accident!” he blurted. “She saw me recently…getting out of the shower. She was-“
His new friend was smiling, knowingly. “You sleep with your mother?”
“No.”
“Never? Shower with her?”
“Absolutely not. Weekends is all. Friday night and…”
“For what?”
“When we…I sleep with her.”
“Meaning…fuck her?”
“No, never.”
“Never?”
“She wouldn’t allow that.”
“What does she allow? What’s her name?”
“Just…in bed. Next to her in bed.”
“You don’t touch?”
Michael hesitated. “We touch. I hold her.”
The two men, a generation removed, were stroking each other. “Are you naked with her or not?”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
Michael didn’t reply.
“So you’re naked in bed with your mom?”
“Not at first, no, but…”
“So as things go on…you get naked with her? She removes her nightgown? She doesn’t have a boyfriend?”
“Not right now.”
“Maybe she doesn’t need one!”
“It’s not funny,” Michael said.
“You feel her tits? What’s her name?”
“Yeah, I feel her up. Small tits. Sweet.”
“You taste ’em?”
“I suck her tits, yeah.”
“I bet you do! But you don’t penetrate her?”
“I’ve penetrated her,” Michael admitted.
“But you just told me you didn’t.”
Michael wanted to end all this. Wanted to sink to the kitchen floor and suck his new friend’s cock. Suck the jizz out of it, fondle the man’s plump balls. Move on from his mother. Either suck to completion or get fucked. Fuck me!
“I’ve penetrated her a few times,” Michael repeated.
“Cum in her?”
“Yeah, I cum in her.”
“She likes it when you fuck her?”
“She encourages it, yeah. Likes it.”
“Really!” the man’s tone one of disbelief. “Good for her. What’s her name?”
“She goes by Beth.”
“Weird. My ex-wife’s name was Beth.”
Michael, after all, had sunk to his knees, base of his new friend’s cock in hand, against his thick bush, mouth open, ready. “She says I cum too soon…”
“Beth…?”
The first spurt hit Michael at eye-level, before he began to swallow. “Says I’m just like her dad…”
“WHAT?”
Beth was waiting by the screened front door when Michael finally coasted up the driveway, spoked wheels clattering. She was wearing a diaphanous, hip-low, open-winged top over her bikini. Approaching 40, she still had IT. Still looked sexy. Men adored her. She said, in greeting:
“Michael, where have you been? I was worried sick!”
“Mom, I went to the beach! Remember?”
“It’s nearly three!”
“Afterwards I went over to a friend’s.”
“What friend?”
“A new friend.” Michael had been fucked by one guy, and swallowed another’s shooting, looping, hard-to-catch semen. But…
“Girl?”
“Man. Just a guy. Nice guy. We-“
“Oh.” Beth seemed relieved. “The important thing is you made it back OK. What do you want for dinner? I could thaw something while we take a nap together. Shower off, honey. You’re all sweaty from your ride…”