Antony and Sam - Old Friends Reunited - 3. Chapter 3

“Ha, they’re a little small,” I hear Sam say from behind me.

I turn to look at the man of my dream, and, goddamn!

His massive hairy thighs are pulling at the seams and his bulge looks like he put a balloon in there. His tan lines are so obviously those of a straight man.

“God, those thighs are reflective - they need the sun,” I joke to him.

He looks shocked and then mad as he laughs and runs toward me. I yelp in fear, running and jumping into the cool water. I hear his splash underwater as he jumps in after me. Underwater I instantly regret not letting him tackle me with his strong, sweaty body.

When I break the surface to catch my breath and open my eyes, I see a wave of water flying in my direction.

"Fucker!" I spit out with the water that collected in my open mouth.

Another wave of water, and another one, taunting me to retaliate. I take the bate, pushing as much water towards him. We're both laughing like children as we dance in circles around each other under the afternoon sun, bobbing and dunking and splashing like our life depends on it. I’m still in awe that this is happening at all. There's a playful tension between us as we fight, almost sexual maybe and I want him to take it further, lunge at me with his big strong hands.

A few very wet minutes later, there is a natural easing of intensity to our battle, calming us as we drift further and end up on opposite sides of the pool. I can't take my eyes off the glistening, broad chest across from me, tracing the swirls of hair matted to the pale skin, watching it rise and fall as the man of my dreams catches his breath. I follow the cleft of his pec, up his thick neck to his square chin, then, shit!

The hockey jock's sparkling eyes are staring back into mine - I'd been caught. I look away as fast as my neck will move but it wasn't fast enough to catch the sly wink he gave.

“Wow, this feels incredible!” he says stretching his arms out on either side, laying them across the ledge, leaning his head back to look up at the clear sky.

Well, doesn't seem like he cares that much. I can’t help but look again. God, I would do anything to bury my face in those deep pits of his and lick every last drop of water from the thatch of hair that is calling my name.

Chill Antony - He’s straight, friendly, and working for your parents… don’t make things weird.

“So you said you and your ex stopped having sex?” he asks, not picking his head up.

“I did?” I ask, still not able to look away.

It's fine he's not looking.

“Well, you said you guys were just best friends by the end and that the romance had died...” he reminds me, this time looking back at me.

When our eyes meet I flush, but what does he expect, if we're talking of course I'm going to look in his direction. It's fine Antony.

“Oh, yeah, I mean we still did, but it got very routine. It was always a little bland for my taste but it really fizzled out by the end.”

“Bland how?” he looks at me with interest, his big, bright eyes wide with curiosity, making me weak.

He is only asking to be nice, and he's apparently an ally. We are two grown men simply talking about sex - like men do. Mine just happens to be with a man. It's no big deal, Antony. I still feel embarrassed though, a prickle of shame pinching my throat as I try to explain my lackluster sex life with my former partner.

“Oh, I don’t know, um…. well, it was kind of equal in the beginning but then got kind of… one-sided… and lazy, and, well, I wanted to try new things and he got less adventurous, and, well… like if…ummm...”

How the fuck do I tell this straight man that my ex and I both realized we liked being fucked more than fucking? And that my subtle piss kink had grown to a full-on fetish, and I had wanted to be submissive sometimes? And sometimes I wanted to be an absolute alpha dom top and say filthy degrading things for him to do to me? And that man musk makes me weak in the knees? Or that when most couples were fucking all the time in quarantine, our sex life took more effort than it was worth and we actually fucked less than before. How about how my ex felt like I broke some kind of agreement we had in his mind because I was the top and he was the bottom when we started dating?

“Hey, it’s cool, I didn’t mean to pry, but I get it… " he says, filling the lingering silence I've left by not actually saying anything.

There is a look of conflict on Sam's perfect face. I can see him debating whether or not to tell me what has come to the front of his mind. He releases a soft sigh and almost shrugs at himself as I brace myself for what question may follow.

"My wife and I used to have sex all the time," he sighs.

Well, that was not what I was expecting to hear.

"Then after the kids were born it was more routine, still fun, but not exciting, then after I got hurt, I tried to get her to try new things. My therapist said I was wanting more attention and love and "needed to feel wanted" now that I didn’t have my hockey fans. I think it was just all the porn I was watching that showed me how much more there was out there. So I cheated. Only a couple times, with this freaky, hot piece of ass I met at a bar one night. It was like fucking a pornstar. I experimented with stuff with her. It was wild and definitely made sex at home seem that much more boring, disconnected even. So I kind of get it."

Holy shit, Sammy Reynolds is in my pool telling me about his sex life. He must be drunk or I must be dreaming!

“I don’t know if it was worth losing my family for, but it was hot as hell the few times we got together.”

I can see his mind wandering back and notice his one arm had conveniently fallen between his thighs.

“Do you still fool around with her?” I ask, hoping to get him to go further into detail about what he tried.

“Nah. It wasn't a full-on affair or anything just a handful of hookups. The guilt got to me and I told my wife. After we separated, me and the chick got together for one last night of strange but I dunno, wasn't quite the same. Then with dad being sick, moving back, fucking covid, how busy work has been, and the lack of single women who want an almost middle-aged, divorced dad of two in the suburbs - I haven’t gotten my dick wet in over a year and a half.”

My first thought is “I could help with that!” But I can tell there’s more to the story. Also, I am too much of a pussy to be that bold.

“I hear that,” I commiserate and it makes us both laugh.

“Mind if we have another?” he asks looking at the bottle of tequila.

“Sure!”

I swim toward the steps and realize my cock is rock hard. I decide to push myself off the ledge instead, facing away from him, and as I get my footing with my ass in the air, I hear a catcall whistle followed by a laugh. That's when I realize half my speedo is up my asscrack exposing my furry left cheek. I don't know what comes over me at this moment, I feel emboldened, and as I go to fix my suit I pull the waist down exposing my full, fat, firm, furry ass.

“Dayum that's one big, furry peach!” he cackles. His macho, bro accent is in full force as he continues his ribbing, “Full moon tonight!”

I pour our drinks and grab them when I realize I can't turn around without my obvious boner showing.

Fuck it, I whisper to myself. This is my house, I’m a successful, proud, gay man, if he's uncomfortable, he can leave! I haven't done anything wrong.

My therapist would be so proud.

I turn around and to my surprise, Sam is right behind me, looking up with his dazzling smile. He reaches his big hand up toward one of the glasses I'm holding. His is in my left hand and mine in my right. In a split-second decision, I extended my right arm like a total loser, wanting to put my lips where his lips were.

“Tony has a boner,” he taunts at me.

“What are you, twelve?” I quip and try to play cool as I walk towards the stairs and make my way back into the pool, "You’re just jealous I can still get it up, old man!”

“WHAT? My junk works just fine! See?” with that, he stands up in the shallow water and points to his crotch where his thick cock head and at least 2 inches of shaft are trapped against the dark trail of hair running down his tight stomach and the waistband of my shorts.

I'm never going to wash those shorts again.

”These are definitely too small!” he laughs as he lowers back into the pool.

“Yeah, they are!” I force out with a laugh, hoping he didn't see my jaw drop.

I swear my eyes bulged out of their sockets and even made the "AWOOGA" sound, like in a cartoon.

Did that just happen? Did Sammy Reynolds, my straight, high school crush, just show me his hard-on?

I must be dreaming.

Is this what straight guys do with each other? Ever since the trauma of freshman year, I have never known how to make friends with straight men. It’s only been in the past few years that I felt more comfortable as my girlfriends started getting into serious relationships or married, but this is not the same as having a beer at a barbecue and talking about their recent vacation!

It is awkwardly silent, we're both avoiding each other's gaze.

“Mind if I take them off, actually? They’re pretty restrictive… and I’ve always wanted to try skinny-dipping.”

My mouth goes dry. I don’t know what to say.

Do I mind?! NO! PLEASE! GET NAKED!

“You do you,” I managed to reply with a cracking voice before taking a sip of tequila to wet my mouth.

Luckily my total shock at his request subdued the excitement and eagerness of my answer.

“If it makes you uncomfortable. I won’t. I dunno, guess this kinda just reminded me of high school and the locker room. Say, I bet I’ve seen more dicks in person than you have.”

“What's that now?” I ask with a cocked eyebrow, trying not to stare at him.

He must be drunk.

“From all the communal showers after games and practices…”

“Oh… got ya," I say, hoping to get back to the topic at hand, "But, yeah, I really don't mind. Can't believe you never skinny dipped."

“You gonna join me?”

“Nah, I’m ok."

You're a fucking idiot, Antony!

“Your loss.”

Sam tosses back his drink, places the glass on the ledge, and wriggles out of my shorts underwater then drops them with a wet plop next to his glass.

“Hey, Tony… Antony, sorry. Did you see that?”

“See what?” I ask in panic.

I tense up, instantly scared that he could somehow see the invisible skywriter inscribing 'I'm in love with you!' in the sky of my mind.

“The bald whale in your pool!” He dives under the water and then his perfect, plump, alabaster ass covered in a light sprinkling of hair that grows dark and dense in the center, pops up from the surface before submerging back under taking him across the pool.

He looks like a merman shaking the water from his head as he comes up for air. There is a giant, goofy grin on his face and a look of pride as he treads water, looking back at me, waiting for some kind of accolade or acknowledgment of his joke.

Fuck he’s adorable!

“That whale wasn’t bald, I'll tell you that. A pasty humpback, maybe.”

He splashes me then dives under again. My eyes follow his lithe frame as it swims from one end to the other. His body looks so graceful and stealth gliding under the shimmering surface. I can’t help but give my hard cock a squeeze as I watch his powerful, muscular form cut through the water with impressive speed, back and forth once more before returning to his earlier position across from me, chest heaving, cheeks flushed.

"It feels so good to swim naked. I had no idea! And this jet on my butt. Almost feels like a tongue,” he laughs.

Oh, to be that jet.

“How would you know?” I ask, trying to push the memory of last night when I was at that same jet rubbing one out thinking about him.

“I told you, that chick was a freak.”

I'm speechless and incredibly jealous, I can only stare at him with my mouth hanging open as he laughs at me.

“Where’s the bathroom? Gotta take a leak.”

What is he trying to do to me?

“Just go in here.”

Did I just say that? What the fuck is wrong with me? I guess I should at least be glad I didn’t offer to just guzzle it down or let him hose me down.

“Ha, no for real…”

“For real, it's a saltwater pool and no one is ever in it.”

Where are these words coming from? How are they coming out so easily? Maybe I should take it easy on the tequila.

“You sure?” he looks at me quizzically but there’s almost a trace of excitement in his eyes.

I guess I should be glad I didn’t offer to just guzzle it down or lay in the grass and let him hose me down.

“I mean, I am right now…”

Antony, what the fuck are you doing?

This is a dangerous game. I mean, who doesn’t pee in the pool. I do have to piss too even though I am way too hard right now to do so, but what’s the goal here, pig?

“Me too,” he says softly with a wicked, cocky grin as his eyes meet mine.

It is silent besides the small ripples of water meeting the tiled border of the pool and the soft rustling of a summer breeze in the trees. I hold his gaze, miraculously able to resist looking down through the clear water. It’s like the weirdest game of chicken ever played, who’s going to break eye contact first? A sly yet sheepish smile spreads across his lips before he finally looks away. I win! Or did I? What did I just do?

“Man, you do like it freaky!” he laughs as he grabs his glass and walks toward the steps.

My real life fantasy emerges from the pool, water cascading down his strong back, over the mounds of perfect muscle and into his deep, dark trench. His semi-hard, thick cock bounces and sways over his heavy, low-hanging balls between his thick thighs.

I am going to combust.

Dunking my head underwater for some much-needed relief and protection, I let out a muffled, sexually frustrated yet impossibly excited scream. Reemerging from my sanctuary of expression, I turn toward the chairs, eager for what my eyes might get to feast on next.

If nothing else, my spank bank will be incredibly full with new material.

Sam is sitting on a lounger checking his phone. His solid legs, built from years on the ice, are spread wide giving me a perfect view of his hanging sack and beautiful cock that is hanging over them, the thick head almost touching the chair below.

I swim to the other side of the pool and grab the shorts he was wearing before climbing up the stairs, knowing full well I should stay away but I am helpless to my own actions. I wring them out, lay them across a chair, and go toward him, using the excuse of checking my phone as well as an excuse to be closer to the naked god in my presence.

Two missed calls from Mom and six texts. Irrationally urgent calls and texts from my mother definitely distract me from the moment, reminding me why Sammy Reynolds is here in the first place. At my cock will finally get some relief from the straining, painful erection and my lust for the man shimmering in the sun just mere feet away will temporarily subside.

“Do you want another one?” I ask holding up the tequila bottle.

He looks up from his phone slowly, obviously distracted.

”Nah, thanks.”

Well, that's that then. You done fucked it up, Fat Tony.

I pour myself one more to ease the pain of all my hopes and dreams being doused by casual rejection.

“I’ll take a beer though, if you have one,” he says casually without looking up from his phone.

“Sure!” I reply too quickly as my frown turns upside down.

Hope has been restored!

I put my glass down and head to the pool house's fully stocked beverage fridge texting Mom on my way, letting her know all is well, that Sam and I are catching up and yes, I’ll let her know if he’s interested in dating my divorced sister she is constantly trying to set up, Madison.

No way in fucking hell will I actually even suggest that to him, but she doesn’t need to know that, or the absolute torture it would create in my life if anything were to ever happen.

I pull open the fridge and grab a beer for Sam. I look through the window at the slab of masculine beef sprawled out in the late afternoon sun. Bulbous biceps lifted on either side of his face with his hands hidden behind his head. His plump cock draped over the sculpted perfection of a hairy thigh. And his feet - huge but somehow delicate and not at all rough the way I would imagine a hockey player’s to be. For some reason, I can't stop staring at them, wanting them in my mouth, feeling my tongue slip between each toe.

Does he know what he is doing to me? He must. No straight man is that woke. It's like he knows how to tease me in the hottest ways. Torturing me worse than all the bullies in highschool but, fuck, it’s better in so many ways.

I check Scruff again, knowing jerking off to the images my brain is locking in and sniffing the shorts of mine that Sam’s meaty ass and full package were in won’t be enough to satisfy my sexual hunger. I’m fucking ravenous.

Two new messages. The first is from an old fuck buddy in the city; “hey, looking to take my load on your face tonight?”

Fuck, if only I were heading back tonight.

The next is from the blank profile again, a question mark following last night’s “hey."

'Come on dude, put some effort in,' I think as I close the app and slip my phone into the waistband of my Speedo.

Oh well, back to the moment and to capture as many more mental images as time and fate will allow. Maybe I can ask him to pick something up…

Such a fucking pervert you are, Antony.

I walk up silently next to Sam, noticing his eyes are closed. I am about to put the beer down but his exposed armpits look so tempting with their damp, glistening thickets of hair. I know I can't touch him but I need to make contact, even if it’s not directly. His eyes shoot open and his body jumps, sitting up to escape the ice-cold glass bottle I pressed into the curve of skin between his swollen pec and round bicep.

“You Dick!” he laughs, grabbing the beer from me and takes a big swig.

“You deserved it,” I shrug.

He looks at me, cocks an eyebrow and before I realize what is about to happen or have the chance to get closer, he spits some of his mouthful of beer, then lies back as he swallows the rest.

If he only knew!

He lets out a laugh. No, not a laugh - a giggle. I can’t help the smile on my face - the sudden flashbacks to how I would swoon every time I heard that same sound in freshman year - as he brought the bottle to his full, kissable lips for another sip.

Oh, to be that bottle.

“So besides getting your salad tossed. What else did your side piece do to awaken your sexual prowess?”

I must be drunk now to have asked him that so freely and with such ridiculous verbiage as I took a seat in the neighboring chair.

“A lot. Not everything, but a lot," he replies casually.

“Gotcha," I say in comprehension, trying to hide my disappointment at the vague answer.

Alright Antony, time to calm down.

I try to relax my tense body in the quiet, but it’s no use - I can’t help but fidget awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say next.

“Besides bland sex, what were you wanting from your ex that he didn’t give you?”

“A lot, not everything, but a lot.”

“Ha, Touché,” Sam says and takes a sip of beer with a thoughtful look on his handsome face, “I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“What is this truth or dare?”

“Truth or dare is a whole other game. This is more, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“But I can see yours,” I say hoping he doesn’t think it an objection to his nudity or realize it was really only an excuse to stare blatantly at his impressive meat.

“Ok. So, Never Have I Ever, then.”

“Is this what happened at all the parties I wasn’t invited to? I never learned the difference between these games?” I say with as much of a laugh as I can since all my energy is being used to pull my eyes away from what I’ve wanted for so long and is now there, a foot away and exposed but still just as out of reach.

“Kind of. Go get a beer. We’ll play," he suggests as he sits up.

I look at him with a cocked eyebrow wondering if he is serious.

“Get me another one too,” he adds, reinforcing that the game is indeed happening as he gulps down the rest of his.

I practically sprint there and come back with the two beers in my trembling hands. He sits up upon my return and swings his legs over. I take my place across from him so we are facing each other because, where else would I sit?

As disappointing as it is for Sam to lay a towel across his lap, it’s also a relief. I do not need the distraction of what I assume is a delicious dick staring back at me that I will never get to taste.

“Alright - so you know how the game works…”

“Obviously.”

“Alright - well additional rule,” he says reaching over to pull the side table between us.

He adds fresh ice from the bucket to our glasses before placing it on the ground as I follow his lead and pour our tequilas.

"If you’ve done it, you take a sip of tequila. If you’ve fantasized about it, a swig of beer, and if it's something that needs explanation, you need to explain. If you plead the fifth, you finish your drink, respectively."

“Respectively?”

“If you did it but plead the fifth you finish your tequila, if you want to do it and plead the fifth instead of explaining, you finish your beer, dummy.”

Why did the way he call me dummy make the butterflies in my stomach flutter?

“Jesus, alright…”

I’m gonna be fucked up in no time.

“Never have I ever sucked dick?” Sam asks with that stupid, sexy grin on his stupid sexy face as he waits expectantly for me to take a sip of tequila.

I roll my eyes and take a sip and when I do, my brain almost explodes - he is sipping from his beer.

My eyes go wide and I stare at him expectantly, needing, no, craving an explanation.

"Every guy has at least thought about sucking their own," he explains before I can even form the words to ask for more information.

So that’s how this gorgeous man wants to play it? Fucking cock tease.

“Never have I ever eaten pussy?” I ask, feeling my competitive nature engage.

He gives me a “got me there" look and sips from his glass as his eyes go wide when I take a sip of tequila, too.

“No shit?”

“No shit… I had a girlfriend in sophomore year. Can’t say I liked it much but I did it a few times.”

“Never have I ever eaten an ass?"

We both take a sip, me with tequila and him with beer.

“Guessing it was the girl who ate yours?”

Do not get your hopes up, gay boy!

“Yup… Never have I ever had a crush on someone at Saint Matthew's.”

We both sip tequila.

“Who?” I ask, eyes wide.

“Miss Bowen…. remember her?”

“Oh yeah… she was kinda pretty I guess.”

Damn! How did I get my hopes up that quickly? Of course, it would be a teacher - it was an all boys school, dumb ass.

“You?”

“Too many to name,” I lie.

While there were plenty of cute boys, there was only one that I thought about back then and for many years after.

“Give me your number one.”

Do I dare admit it? I’ve had a crush on you, Sammy, since the first day of freshman year. I can’t. Not yet.

"Fifth has been plead,” I gasp with a clench face after tossing back the rest of fiery liquid in my glass.

"Alright, I see you," he says as he refills my glass.

“Never have I ever been told I’m too big,” I suggest.

Really? That’s the best you could come up with?

We both sip our tequila.

“Yeah, I know I don’t have the monster you do but, it can do some damage,” I explain, unnecessarily, for some reason.

“How would I know what you have? You’re still in your speedo.“

“Ask the next question, Perv,” I say with a dramatically exaggerated rolling of my eyes.

He sits thinking, eyes locked on mine, when a devilish grin pulls at the corners of the mouth I have longed to kiss for over twenty years.

"Never have I ever been pissed on?" he offers slowly with a flicker in his eyes.

We both sip tequila.

“Really?!” I can't withhold my shock as I ask him.

“Yeah that girl would sometimes keep me inside her and after she came from riding me, she would let it go,” I notice his hand absentmindedly adjusts his towel-covered crotch.

“Damn,” I whisper, not sure how else to react.

“You?” He asks before I can follow up with a clarifying question on whether or not he enjoyed it.

“I've been hosed down,” I admit then instantly feel the prickles of embarrassment crawl up my neck.

“By your ex?”

“A couple of times, others mostly.”

Well, we’ve gone this far and I couldn’t throw back another tequila on the rocks just yet.

"Others, ey?”

Why is he so curious?

“Others. Never have I ever pissed on someone?" I say to cut off any of his further inquiries.

I sip tequila and to my surprise he sips beer.

“Explain…”

"Well, I thought it was hot when she would do it. It was twisted and kinky but she never let me ‘hose her down.’ Is that the right term?" he laughs but I can tell he is actually curious.

I glance down and there is no denying there is a very noticeable tent in his towel. I’m starting to feel lightheaded from the sun, heat, tequila, beer, and this intoxicating man across from me that I can’t have that is visibly excited by one of my deepest hidden interests.

“Speaking of which… I’m gonna go take a piss.”

The words are more abrupt than casual, but I need to step away.

I walk around the side of the pool house to the outdoor shower, pull my cock out of the leg of my speedo and wait for it to soften enough to let the stream start.

“Ahhh” I sigh as I finally unleash, spraying the tiles beneath and watching my relief run toward the drain.

Suddenly it was obvious that Sam had the same urge and had followed me as he steps up beside me. Holding his heavy cock and looking forward as if this is completely normal - just two guys pissing at a public restroom - joins in.

I can’t help but stare at his cock, less than a foot away from mine, releases a jet of it’s own.

He aims down and the forceful spray is bouncing off the floor, splattering both of our feet. I look up at him and he’s staring at me then whips his dick towards me and splashes my feet and shins with a devious laugh escaping his throat. I do the same back to him out of instinct momentarily free of my propriety and fear of exposure.

It’s not sexual. OK, for me it certainly is, but we’re both laughing at the playful crossing of streams.

My flowing piss starts to dribble before running out and he turns his hips directly toward me. He points his spraying dick toward my crotch, soaking me from the waist down, wetting my exposed cock, balls, speedo, and hand until he runs dry.

I don’t know if I’m more surprised at his action or the fact that his hose has expanded to full mast and my gaze lifts to his face. He has a curious, lustful look as he watches his piss drip from my rigid, reinflated meat. I stand frozen, beyond turned on but silenced by nerves.

Sammy Reynolds and I hadn’t just got into a pissing contest - we literally pissed on each other!

Was a sword fight the next round in our battle?

“So, back to the game?” Sam asks, seemingly unphased.

I guess not. The wet war might be over, but at least the game will continue!