Chapter 22 #2
I looked over to watch Austin laugh at his dad and simply shake his head instead of replying, but Stephanie was looking at me when I tuned back in.
“And I suppose the guy isn’t Preston either?” There were those narrow eyes again. I had to try to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“Preston? I mean, sure, if you like guys who are blond and built and … have you seen those arms?” We were leaning in and giggling as we ogled the man, who was just then pouring drinks behind the bar.
Steph smacked my hand across the table. “You should have told me, Randy. We could have been objectifying guys together for decades!”
Marty and Preston kept providing us with drinks, and Steph and I got to catching up. My phone pinged after a while. Marty dropped down into the seat next to his wife eventually, slouching as he took a big pull from one of the three beers he’d set at the table.
His hand found Steph’s where it rested on the table.
“It’s good to have you back, ET. Don’t tell Austin, but now we have even more of an excuse to come visit him up in the mountains.
I tried to convince him that there are medical schools in places other than Hampstead Valley.
Hello,” he chimed, pointing. “New York City is right there. But he loves it up there. Don’t tell Steph,” he said, though she was sitting right next to him, “but I think he plans to stay up that way to do his doctoring.”
Steph and I both laughed at the word “doctoring,” and Marty laughed right along with us, just like old times.
The Excuse: I’m glad you’re having a good time. That’s a lot of beer bottles for me to clean up.
I couldn’t help it, I looked around until I found him, heading our way with an empty tray at his side.
“Didn’t we order three more?” Marty asked, though we most definitely had not.
“Jeez, Dad. Let me make some room at this table first.” Austin put his hand on my shoulder. Maybe it was the sheer number of empty beer bottles at the table, but I didn’t stiffen at his touch, instead looking up at him with moony eyes.
“You three know you are not currently in college, right? I’ve been to frat parties with fewer empties.” He squeezed my shoulder before cleaning up the table and taking off.
I pulled my phone out.
The Stranger: I am having a good time. Can you join us?
The Excuse: Nah. Promised to help super-hot thirst trap Preston close.
The Stranger: You heard that, huh?
The Excuse: And hated doing so on so many levels. My mom? Ogling Preston? Ew.
He sent me an image of a throwing-up emoji.
After one more round, Austin and Preston did join us.
Austin sat next to me, and I didn’t mind.
Our legs may have brushed once or twice or many, many times, and my hand may have brushed his under the table, giving it a squeeze before letting go.
Preston may have noticed, but his look of shock quickly turned to a smile.
Could it be that people would look at Austin and me and just see a happy couple and not question what a bright young man like him was doing with some old guy like me?
Steph and I sat in the back on the drive home, and the four of us trounced up the stairs together.
On the landing, Austin gave both of his parents a good night hug as I lingered in the hallway outside the bathroom door.
Stephanie definitely noticed me watching them, so as Austin walked toward me, I pointed. “Okay if I go first?”
“All yours, London,” he let slip even though as designated driver he wasn’t inebriated like the rest of us.
I received a text while in the bathroom.
The Excuse: Drunk Randall is adorable. Good thing we still have a case of IPA at your house to get though. I’m hiding in my room. Please don’t come say goodnight, I won’t be able to handle it.
I did go straight to my room, hearing Austin go in and out of the bathroom after me before I received his next text.
The Excuse: Tell me if you can hear me. I’ve always wondered if guests could.
I didn’t want to presume what he meant, but his next message made it crystal clear. It was an image of his cock, rock hard in his hand. A moan escaped me before I could stop it. After a centering breath, I replied.
The Stranger: Could you hear that? I gasped at the site of that image.
His reply was another picture, showing his hand apparently in motion.
The Excuse: I showed you mine …
Good Lord! It was one thing when we had the house to ourselves. I should type that. I should tell him that. Besides, I’d probably drunk too much for a man my age to be able to send a similar picture.
Except my hand didn't make it to my phone, finding its way down my pajama pants and grasping my … well, would you look at that. I levered up and pushed my pants down just enough, grabbing the phone then and sending Austin a naughty photo of my own.
I jumped up and found the lube I had stashed in my suitcase, returning to the bed, where I got immediately and frantically to work.
Before very long, I was able to answer Austin’s question.
I tore my hand away from my cock and threw off my T-shirt before cuing up to record a video on my phone, propping myself and the phone up so Austin could see my stiff cock. I began pleasuring myself again, remembering to speak softly so as not to disturb any other members of the house.
“I absolutely heard that, sweetheart, and now I’m picturing you coming.
” It was all I could say as I continued to stroke myself, thinking about sharing the video with him.
It didn’t take long despite the amount of beer in my system.
I was proud of myself for remembering to shut off the video before saying out loud, “My God, Austin, look what you do to me.”
I sent it and slipped out to the bathroom, wiping my hands with the shirt I had taken off. Austin was exiting the room, shirtless as well, his phone in his hands and his pajama pants low on his hips, tenting again.
He looked at me, then quickly down the hall before reaching out to my happy trail. My eyes followed as he ran his finger through it.
“Missed a spot.” I had to bite my tongue as he brought the drop of cum to his mouth.
He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “I can’t believe you sent me a video.
I’m glad you could hear me. I’m gonna go listen to you again”—he waved his phone and used his other hand to bring mine to his crotch—“and go for round two.”
I couldn’t help myself then, a groan left me. Austin huffed a laugh from his spot near my ear and kissed behind it while squeezing my hand and his on his hardening cock.
“It’s going to be a long week,” was my only reply as I squeezed him once more, kissed his cheek, and went to clean off in the bathroom.
A video showed up on the text chain not long after I returned.
The next morning, Marty and I groaned over our eggs, waiting for pain pills to kick in. My phone chimed with a text.
“Don’t you ever take a break? You’re as bad as Steph,” he said as we sat at his kitchen table, him eating a leisurely breakfast, me shoveling mine in quickly so I could get back upstairs and hide behind my laptop.
Steph was already in her office working, and Austin had not yet surfaced.
Marty and I were both a little worse for wear, nursing hangovers.
The Excuse: Morning, sunshine. Ohh, sorry, poor choice of words. I hope the thought of bright lights isn’t making your hangover worse. I assume you’re hung over, or have your superpowers kicked in?
I could feel the silly smile on my face and decided it would really be best if I didn’t run into the man himself. I replied.
The Stranger: Superpower=pain reliever
He reacted to that one with a laughing emoji.
The Stranger: Good morning, sweetheart
Austin reacted with a red-heart emoji, and I almost dropped my phone. Even Marty noticed my change in demeanor. I really needed to escape and maybe meditate so I wouldn’t act like an idiot around Marty and Steph over the next few days. Could I learn how to meditate online?
I was just about to slink back to the guest room with the excuse that I had some work to do when Austin bounded down the stairs and found us, looking adorably tousled in sleeping pants and a wrinkled T-shirt.
“Good morning, you two.” He chuckled. He poured himself a cup of coffee and walked toward us, kissing his dad on the top of the head and squeezing my shoulder.
“Fun night, huh?” Was it wrong for me to describe his tone as condescending?
We both grunted.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Dad. Don’t you need to get to the Three B’s soon?”
Austin didn’t sit with us, instead heading to the family room adjacent to the kitchen nook where we were sitting. He went straight to the Christmas tree to turn the lights on before sitting down on a couch that faced us.
Marty looked at me. “We open for lunch on Christmas Eve. You're welcome to hang out at the bar and have a few drinks. Stephanie will kill me if you eat too much; she and Austin will have a feast for us when we return. You should come with me, though; otherwise, I know you, you’ll stay in that guest room and work all morning. We’ve got some time for you to check your email or whatever before we go. ”
“Translation,” Austin contributed, leaning forward, his coffee cup wrapped in both hands where they hung between his legs.
“You two have to get out of this house and out of our way so we can cook.” His tone changed to a fake whisper as if he were keeping a secret from Martin.
His eyes absolutely sparkled as he looked at me. It felt like mine were too.
“Dad is not allowed in the kitchen on holidays. It may be the whole reason we opened a restaurant. To get him out of the house.”
“Okay, alright. That’s enough. I know when I’m not wanted. You’ll come with me, right, Randy?”