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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
This story is for mature readers only. It includes graphic descriptions of m/m sex including kink. Do not read if it is not legal for you to do so.
Antony and Sam - Old Friends Reunited - 2. Chapter 2
p style="font-size:1.1em;line-height:1.3em;"> This story is the first of many chapters in this series. It is for mature readers only and depicts acts of m/m sex and will include kinks and fetishes. All characters are over 18.
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The next thing I know, my phone is ringing. It’s my mother! The sun is streaming into the bedroom and I’m laying completely naked, rock hard, on top of the towel. I guess the shower never happened!
“Morning, Mom," I say with a dry voice.
“Hi, my darling boy! How did it go yesterday?” her reply comes in her usual chipper tone.
My morning wood is officially gone as I sit up and prepare for the onslaught of questioning this early in the morning.
“Fine… the guy offered to consolidate the remaining junk into one unit,” I reply with a yawn.
“Antony! That is not JUNK! But that is very sweet of him. That Sam was so friendly on the phone… do you think he’s single? Is he attractive? Do you think he might like your sister?” my mother rattles on without taking a breath.
Just the mere mention of Sam’s name made my dick twitch. 'Fuck yes, he's attractive!' I almost reply but save my excitement.
“Umm, well, I don’t know…” I say, feeling a twinge of jealousy.
My mother, always loving and accepting, still presumes everyone is straight until proven otherwise.
“Funny story though… I actually went to high school with him," I continue.
“OH?” she asks, truly intrigued, wondering how she might have not picked up on that.
“At St Matthew's...”
“Oh…” she falls suddenly quiet.
“Don’t worry, Ma, he never beat me up,” I quickly reply in defense of my high school crush, "He was actually kind of nice to me."
“Ok…” she says with suspicion which leads to an awkward pause before she continues, “You know you’re wonderful?”
“Yes, Ma. Thank you.”
There is another stint of silence and I know she is feeling protective of her baby boy. My mother is my biggest supporter and still hasn't forgiven herself for not being psychic and knowing about the torment I went through and hid from her until I finally broke down and pleaded not to go back in the middle of the summer at my uniform fitting for sophomore year.
“You're the love of my life!" she says, doubling down and I know the only way to stop her from continuing on this positive gaslighting.
"Hey Ma, is there any coffee here by chance?" I ask.
"OH! I forgot to tell you! Rosey is stopping by today to drop some food off for you!" she shrieked in delight.
"You shouldn't have made her do that!" I say in a frustrated tone.
My mother is many things but simple is not one of them. I am grateful for all the privileges her views on life and efforts provided but something as simple as wanting a coffee didn't need to become a full catered affair.
"I didn't make her, I simply told her you would be back and she insisted on coming by. She said she made your favorites," Mom replies excitedly.
“Thank you,” I concede.
I know better than to protest or say that I can take care of myself and was planning to order out. She has spoken and I am to not stand in her way.
“So, today..." she starts in on the plan she has told me at least six times already.
If it wasn't the same way my entire life I would think her repetition was due to forgetfulness from diminishing cognition. I zone out listening to her ramble on, explaining everything once again.
“Antony?”
“Yeah, Ma, I got it. He’ll be here at two.”
“Yes, not Yeah.” I roll my eyes, “Anyway, much to do up here. Call me when you’ve had your coffee. I can tell you’re still in bed.”
“It’s 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday…” I sigh, “Ok Mom, love you. Call you later.”
Exhausted, I roll over and fall back to sleep.
An hour later I'm woken up again to the house phone ringing and reach over to the nightstand.
“Hey, it's Mom. Rosey is there. She said you haven’t even come down to make your coffee yet?”
“I’m going now. I was just, in the shower…” I say trying to sound alert.
Shit… I never showered!
“Mom, I’ll call you back - let me go say hi to Rosey,” I continue and hang up before she has a chance to reply.
I run to my bathroom, wet my hair, brush my teeth, throw on a pair of shorts and my button-down from last night, and head downstairs, hoping Rosey won’t notice that I smell like a urinal.
“ANTONY!!!!! My Ashta!” she squeals and runs toward the stairs and then immediately stops herself, pulling her mask up from her chin.
“I want to kiss you so bad but don’t come close. I’m too old to take risk! God will take me when I’m ready, not this Covid!”
Who knew social distancing would actually save me from embarrassment this morning?
"Habibi, you didn't have to come to do all this for me! "I say with a big smile, genuinely happy to see my second mother, "But I'm happy you did,"
Rosey has been our housekeeper since I was three. She is the sweetest woman I have ever met - round everywhere, with a thick accent and a heart of gold. She moved from Lebanon just before coming to work for us after her mother passed away and quickly became part of our family, teaching me about my Arabic roots my father's side had all but forgotten. She was the Alice to our Brady Bunch and it was no secret I was her favorite.
We catch up as I watch her make me eggs, bacon, and coffee. She is so cute, scurrying around the kitchen, still a total spitfire in her advancing age. She watches me eat with the same loving look she has always given me before she empties a cooler bag into the fridge with enough food to feed a family of six for a week.
“Ok, my city boy... time for Rosey to go, my habibi," she says as she reaches out her hands towards me and pinches the air as if it were my cheeks.
“Rosey, I miss you! Come to the city, I'll take you out to meet a hot man,” I say with a sly smile, knowing how she loves this joke.
She lets out her infamous laugh, it starts with a breathy guffaw followed by an almost wicked cackle that transitions to a cartoonish giggle.
“You know the men love these zudras,” she says, shaking her huge breasts toward me.
She walks in my direction and then stops herself next to the sofa separating us by length. She grabs a pillow.
“Pretend this is you," she says while squeezing the pillow and giving it many loud kisses.
“Back at you, Habibi!” I say, blowing her a kiss for her to catch and put in her pocket before turning to leave.
What a morning! It reminds me of when I would show up for family brunch with a load still in my ass and/or still drunk, covered in sweat, cum, and possibly piss, with way too much cologne on in hopes of masking the smells of my wild night.
I head upstairs and turn on the shower. Stripping down, I check myself out with the smells of piss and cum filling my nostrils and my cock with blood.
“Fuck it, it's only noon,” I spit out and turn the shower off.
I grab my Speedo from my bag and slip it on before going back outside.
I head to the bar in the pool house and decide to make myself a margarita. As soon as I pull out the sugary mix I hear 'Fat Tony! Fat Tony!' taunting in my head and decide on tequila on the rocks instead. I synch the outdoor speakers with my phone, turn on a playlist, grab a glass, a bottle of Casamigos, and an ice bucket, and head back to the pool.
I pour myself a drink and check my phone. There are a couple of text and email notifications which I promptly ignore and instead, I open up Scruff.
There is only one new message from a blank profile, of course. Close enough proximity but no picture or age or description. I don’t bother responding to the generic 'hey' this mystery man has sent, figuring it's probably an old married neighbor.
I learned early on not to “shit where I eat” so whenever I come home I always change my pic to a headless torso. This neighborhood sucks for anonymous cock anyway. I scroll through the nearby profiles and it's all either blank profiles of "DL" married men or closeted twinks home from college for the summer. Both options seem like too much work at the moment.
The hot sun feels good on my skin and the tequila goes down smooth. I have a chub in my tight speedo as I smell my piss and pits baking in the heat. It's only about 12:30, plenty of time to get some sun, shower, and be ready for Sam at two.
“Antony…” I hear my name being called softly by a deep manly voice.
“Antony… Antony…?”
I feel a tap on my shoulder and my eyes flutter open and I squint looking up at the silhouette of a tall figure blocking the sun.
“Sorry to wake you...”
“Huh?" I lazily smile up at the handsome star of my dreams when I realize what he's doing there, "OH shit! Sam! Sorry… I, uhhh... is it two already?!” I sit up, looking for my phone.
“2:30…”
“Sorry. I must’ve dozed off”
“It’s ok… I buzzed the gate a few times but then I remembered you gave me the code yesterday. Tried the doorbell then heard the music coming from back here and...”
As my eyes adjust, I take in the sight before me. Sam, towering over me and looking down, sweat dripping from his brow and making his white t-shirt practically see-through. He’s wearing mesh shorts this time (still way too baggy for a stud like him) and a pair of trainers.
“I can hang in the car or come back. I don’t have any plans after this so I'm in no rush,” he offers politely.
My grogginess lifts as I realize how this must look. A bottle of tequila on ice and me passed out in a skimpy Speedo next to it in the early afternoon.
“No..No…” I stretch and get a whiff of my piss-covered pits.
Fuck!
“Let me just take a quick plunge and wake myself up. I don’t want to make you work all day on a Saturday,” I say as I stand up, walk over to the bar, grab a glass, and hand it to him, “Here, have a drink! I’ll be out in a second. “
I dive into the pool and stay under for a minute. The cold water is refreshing and instantly wakes me up. I try to rub my body down, hoping the salt water will get rid of the stench on my warm skin.
Coming up for air, I see that Sam is looking around the yard, awkwardly sitting at the edge of a lounge chair next to mine, sipping his tequila.
Fuck, he is so hot.
I pull myself out of the pool and wrap a towel around my waist. I can’t help but notice his sizable bulge as I cross the deck and sit across from him.
'Damn, he must be wearing underwear!' I decipher from a quick glance.
“Here," he says, handing me a refilled glass, “Cheers, to old friends!”
“Cheers!” I take a sip and he tosses his back.
As his face lowers after swallowing his mouthful he gives me a sheepish grin.
“Sorry… I thought since there was no mixer we were taking shots.”
“All good,” I toss mine back and smile.
“That’s smooth. Never had this before.”
“Yeah, I love it. Want another? To sip, not shoot?” I laugh.
Sam blushes with embarrassment. Fuck, this manly man, the fantasy of my life is blushing, it makes him even hotter.
“Sure,” he replies.
As I scoop ice and pour the drinks, he adds, “This is a great backyard. That pool looks incredible!”
“Yeah, Mom did a good job. It was fun growing up here.”
“If I knew you had a pool, we would’ve been best friends in high school,” Sam chuckles.
“Did you want to take a dip?” I offer, hoping to see him in less clothing.
“Nah, that's ok, thanks… but mind if I take my shirt off?”
DO I MIND?!
“Go for it,” I respond, trying to sound casual, “It’s hot out here. Make yourself comfortable.”
I can’t help but stare in anticipation as he peels his damp white shirt off his broad, toned body. His impressive torso is shockingly white compared to the deep tan on his neck and hairy forearms. He’s got a perfect, swollen, furry chest with a set of perky, pink quarter-sized nipples and a dense trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his shorts along with those deep V lines I lovingly call cum gutters.
And those hairy pits? Fuck! I get a peak at the bushy damp fur in them as Sam tosses his shirt aside and kicks off his sneakers.
Now, I’m not much into feet but for some reason when I saw his? All I wanted to do was get on my knees and start kissing them!
“So Sam,” I squeak out, trying to play it cool, “As I said, I don’t want to keep you. There’s not too much here that needs to go, and--”
“Nah” he cuts me off, “Don’t worry bud, I’m in no rush - like I said I don’t have anything planned today.”
“Cool,” I say as I take another sip of my drink.
I can’t believe this moment. This is a dream come true! Forget fantasies, just to hang out with Sammy Reynolds - my inner child is squealing!
“So Antony - what do you do in the city?”
“Creative director of an events company.”
“Oh wow, cool, that makes sense,” Sam replies, taking another sip and licking his plump, pink lips.
“What do you mean ‘makes sense’?” I ask
“I remember you’d always be drawing or doodling in your notebooks instead of taking notes…”
“You remember that?”
Wow, he remembers me AND those stupid details? That's unexpected.
“Yeah. It was fun to see what you’d come up with, you definitely drew a lot of dudes, but they were great drawings so it makes sense that you do something creative.”
“Ha, yeah, I guess I did,” now I’m the one blushing.
“Do you still, um…?” Shit! I was obsessed with him but twenty-two years is a long time and I blocked out most of freshman year from all the trauma.
“Play hockey?” he finishes with a laugh.
“Yes! Hockey - the only Freshman to make varsity! How could I forget?”
“I play in a local league for fun. I actually went semi-pro after college, almost made it pro but..." he trails off and gives me a shrug.
“What happened?”
He tosses the rest of his tequila back and looks sad for a moment.
“Boring story. Got injured, blah blah blah," he shrugs again, laying down his glass, “Anyway… are you married?”
I accept the subject change and move on.
“No… I was engaged but we broke it off after the first six months of lockdown.”
“Sorry to hear that…”
“Don’t be! It was for the best,” I say and sip my drink before continuing, “We kind of just morphed into best friends/roommates. And, the romance died, even before Covid. Lockdown just made it all that much more apparent. We still talk though. He’s dating a twenty-four-year-old "influencer" now…” I roll my eyes and toss my drink back, “How about you?”
“I was. Got married right out of college,” he starts before pausing and then grabbing the bottle.
As he reaches for it, I see a pretty intense scar hidden under his pronounced shoulder blade. He pours us each another few fingers' worth of Blanco before continuing.
“We were together off and on through college. Got married young and had our two girls. Then, after my injury, I went into a dark place, cheated on her, and just fucked things up all around. She took the girls and moved back in with her parents in San Diego. I moved out there to try to make it work but she made it very clear she was done. Then my dad got sick so I moved back to help out and when he passed, I ended up taking over his company.”
Wow…. this guy is pouring his heart out.
It's a little awkward and out of nowhere but it’s showing a sweet side of him I hadn’t seen since the day I was thrown down the stairs and he punched the kid who did it before helping me up, solidifying his place as my first love.
Fuck, I think I’m in love all over again. With a straight man. It’s like I time-traveled back to high school!
“Shit, I'm sorry to hear that,” I offer, not knowing what else to say.
We sit in silence for a second and I try not to stare at him as he looks at the ground between his big, pale feet. I know it's not the time but I had an incredible desire to lick around the tan line from what I assume was caused by his work boots.
“Yeah, it’s fine, plus, as you said - we were just roommates and she definitely wasn’t into what I am, hence the cheating,“ he pauses before opening his mouth to say something else before closing it again.
“Anyway, we should prob do the assessment before I get too shmammered!” he laughs.
“Uhh, sure,” I stutter in reply, a bit caught off guard.
We stand up and I sneak glances of him, willing him to stay shirtless.
He grabs his clipboard but leaves his t-shirt and shoes as he follows me to the house as if it is totally normal that I'm in a speedo and he's just in shorts while we work.
“I’m gonna run upstairs and throw on some shorts,” I say once we’re indoors.
"Sure," Sam says as he takes a seat at the kitchen island, and looks around.
Upstairs, I throw my towel off and rummage through my bag. It’s not long before I realize that all I have with me is the very short pair of running shorts I had on earlier.
‘It’s this or my suit pants,’ I justify as I slip them on over my Speedo. I grab a tank top and then pause before throwing it back in my bag. If he doesn’t have a shirt on, neither will I!
I come back to the kitchen and he’s not there.
“Sam?”
“In here!” I find him measuring a credenza in the living room and making a note. Then he sees it, my freshman year photo on the shelf behind the sofa.
“That’s the Tony I remember!” he laughs, “You were such a butterball back then!”
“Yeah…” I cringe.
“Sorry - we were kids, we all had awkward phases…”
“You didn’t, you were always hot!” I blurt out cutting him off.
Did I just say that out loud? Awkward! Fuck!
“You’re too kind…" He says and I think I see him blush, "But look at you now, you’re buff! Bet all the guys like you.”
“Ha, thanks," Now it's my turn to turn red, "Anyway, so there are a couple more rooms,” I continue, desperately trying to change the subject but noticing a slight look of rejection on his face.
He follows me through the house, making notes, and taking pictures and measurements as needed. It’s all very professional. Of course, I couldn't help but think about blowing him in my childhood bedroom and finally living out that fantasy when we took inventory in there.
If Scruff doesn’t come through tonight, I might need to hire someone or Uber out a guy from the city.
“So, that’s about it,” I say as we make our way back to the kitchen.
"Poolhouse?" he asks looking up expectantly from his clipboard.
“You're right! there are a few things out there!” I remember, "You're good!"
He just smiles at me and holds up the list my mother had sent him.
We head back outside and cross the yard and when we enter the pool house, holy shit is it hot in there! All those windows look great but they turn the place into an oven if they're not open.
By the time we finish up in there and head back outside, both of us are dripping in a layer of sweat. I hear my phone ring and run to grab it so I don't linger around him long enough to pop a boner.
Sam stayed behind as I went to the other side of the pool and I was grateful for that. He is distracting enough just being there but standing next to me, slick and shiny in fresh perspiration would be too much for me.
“Hi, Mom… yes, he’s here… we’re just finishing…. because we’re just finishing…” I roll my eyes and pour us a drink while Sam chuckles.
“Yes…. No… Yes… No, I didn’t ask! Hey, Mom, I’m getting a work call. I’ll call you back, love you!” I reply, rushing her off the phone.
I hang up and throw the phone on the lounge chair. Looking across the pool, I see Sam staring longingly at the water.
“You sure you don’t want to take a dip?”
He walks over to where I'm standing and takes his glass. His pensive look lets me know he is thinking about taking me up on my offer.
“I would love to but I don’t have a swimsuit with me. Thanks though,” he sounds disappointed as he brings his glass up to his kissable lips.
“I have these running shorts you could wear. Might be tight but I only just put them on," I must be feeling this tequila to make the offer so quickly.
I watch him debate my solution while his face reacts to his most recent sip.
“Umm, yeah, sure. I guess... if you don't mind," he says sheepishly.
Mind? You could go naked for all I care! My mind shouts.
"It's all good," I say as I slide the short shorts off, revealing my tightening Speedo, and I toss them at him.
Before I can tell him where the changing room is, he turns away from me, drops his loose shorts and briefs, and bends over to step into mine.
Holy... fucking... shit! Definitely hiring someone tonight!
His ass is more incredible than I could have imagined. A light dusting of hair covers his pale, round cheeks and thickens to a deep, furry trench that is damp with sweat. I can't help it as I lick my lips. His big, heavy balls swing between his legs. I think I saw the head of his dick too before he stands back up, pulling the tight shorts over his muscular, hairy legs. He hops a few times, sending a rippling bounce through the fat cheeks, trying to squeeze his beefy butt into the stretched waistband.
I turn away from him. I had to before he turned back around and noticed the tenting in my skimpy Speedo.
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Love to hear back from my readers in comments or direct reach out!
Love to hear back from my readers in comments or direct reach out!
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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