4. Ford
Ford
I wasn’t sure what was up with Dylan. Every time I glanced over during the movie, I’d catch him looking at me. I was beginning to think my earlier guess that he still had feelings for me was actually true, and I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.
Sure, he was fucking cute and he had a perfect ass—I got both an eyeful and a handful earlier—I just couldn’t stop thinking about his sexless summer comment.
Was that why he was here? To go celibate for a few months?
If that were the case, then why? What had made him decide to do that? Did jerking off count?
All these thoughts distracted me from paying attention to the movie. When the final scene faded to black and the credits rolled, I was the one half asleep. Leaning forward, I stretched my arms above my head, a low groan escaping my lips. Dylan shifted beside me, his injured ankle still propped up.
I glanced at him. His eyes were still fixed on the scrolling words, a strange tension in his posture.
"Good movie," I said, breaking the silence.
"Yeah," Dylan replied, his voice a little tight. He finally looked at me and smiled half-heartedly.
“How’s your ankle feeling?” I placed a hand on his shin, unable to shake the feeling that something was off. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but the words caught in my throat.
“A little better,” he answered.
“You want some help getting to your room?” I asked, standing up and stretching again. “I think I’m going to bed.”
“I wish I were confident I could actually make it, but I’d hate to fall and have to crawl the rest of the way.”
I nodded. “Understandable.”
Dylan pivoted, tenderly touched his injured foot down, and reached out for me.
Our proximity as I helped him into his room made me regret wearing sweatpants with no underwear. I hoped he didn’t notice that my cock was half-hard.
There was no question about it now, no wondering. After a few days together in our remote family cabin, I was at least somewhat turned on by my former stepson.
Not that I could really do anything about it.
"Night," Dylan said, who had returned to not meeting my gaze.
"Night," I replied, a flicker of unease settling in my gut as I closed his door. As I headed up the stairs to my room, my fingers absent-mindedly found the key and played with it.
Once in my room, I stripped my clothes off and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. Catching sight of the necklace in the mirror, I had a thought. What if the key was actually Dylan’s and he didn’t want to tell me? Maybe that’s why he was acting strange?
But what could it go to?
Sliding under the covers, the sheets were refreshingly cool against my skin. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t get the image of Dylan’s smooth butt out of my head. My dick certainly hadn’t forgotten either.
For whatever reason, my mind chose this moment to replay the years-old memory of Dylan jerking off while holding my jockstrap to his face. It wasn’t something easily forgotten. All the tension I had been feeling wasn’t just the lingering angst of the past; there was something else, something new.
I rolled onto my back, letting my right hand drift down, tracing the line of my hip. Like a moth to a flame, my mind went there.
Remembering the feel of his skin beneath my fingers, and the way he flinched when I touched him. With no protest from my conscience, I conjured a fantasy Dylan. His eyes, vulnerable, seeking attention, his lips parted. The slender curves of his body beneath me, flexible and begging to be taken.
My hand moved faster, the friction building heat. I imagined him moaning my name, his body pressing against mine, asking for more. It didn’t take me long.
“Fuck.”
After the expected wave of euphoria, cum erupted out of my dick, coating my abs. It was more than normal, considering it had been a few days. When he walked in on me the other night, I hadn’t finished. With my heart pounding and my breath ragged, I just laid there, completely satisfied.
I was so fucked.
The darkness of the room couldn’t hide the image of Dylan’s smiling face. It lingered in my mind as I wiped the cum out of my belly button with my hand and licked it. I was too wrecked to head to the bathroom to wipe it off; swallowing was cleaner anyway.
I should be worried that I just whacked off while thinking of Dylan, but I wasn’t.
A strange calm came over me instead as the familiar pull of sleep welcomed me into its peaceful arms.
Unsurprisingly, Dylan was still asleep when I got up. I doubted he’d be able to stand long enough to cook breakfast, so I skipped my morning run and decided to make it for him today. It was either the sizzling of the bacon or the smell of freshly brewed coffee that enticed him to finally join me.
“Morning,” he mumbled.
I looked over to find Dylan rubbing his eyes in full bed-head mode, wearing one of those muscle tanks where your nipples hang out and I assumed—after a second glance—shorts. The tank was so long I almost couldn’t tell.
“Morning, how’s the ankle feeling today?”
Dylan hopped over to the table and sat down. “Better, it seems. Definitely not as sore. Thanks for making breakfast.”
“Oh, this is just for me.”
“Oh.”
I glanced over and he looked crestfallen. “I’m kidding.” I chuckled.
“Wow. Pick on a guy when he’s down. Nice.”
“Scrambled eggs work for you still?”
“You remember how I like my eggs?”
I flipped the bacon and poured the egg mix into the other skillet. “Is that really that surprising? We lived together for six years.”
“That's true, but I feel like an ass because I don't know how you take yours.”
Hairless and tight. “Same as you, and don't feel like an ass. I made you breakfast hundreds of times before. Easier for me to remember. Orange juice?” I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and the pitcher from the fridge.
“Thanks. I'll have to injure myself more often.”
“As accident-prone as you are, I'll be serving you all summer.”
Dylan chuckled. “Probably.”
The toaster dinged so I grabbed the cream cheese out of the fridge then finished the bacon and the eggs. After plating it all up, I headed over to the table and sat down across from Dylan.
“Looks amazing. Thank you,” he said.
“My pleasure.” I saw his eyes focus on my chest, but assumed he was looking at the key, so I grabbed it and asked, “Still think it looks good?”
“You wore it all night?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I think it looks great on you.”
I watched him take a strip of bacon and dangle it into his mouth. The memory of pleasuring myself while thinking of him resurfaced and my cock reminded me it was there. Thankfully, I was already sitting and the tent in my shorts would go unnoticed.
“Can you grab the salt and pepper for me, please?”
Shit. “Uh yeah, sure.” I turned most of the way while still crouched over, hopeful my erection wouldn’t be too obvious. Then again, if he noticed it, then he was looking. At my crotch.
Seconds later, I pushed the salt and pepper across the table with no commentary about the state of my penis to be heard. “Let me know if you need my help today,” I offered. “I assume you’ll be taking it easy?”
Dylan nodded. “I think the couch will be a comfy home for the next few days. I can take a nap in between chapters. Maybe our next hike won’t be so eventful.”
Between bites, I smiled. “I don’t know. I could use a few more workouts like that.”
Dylan did one of those disbelieving sputtery mouth things. “I’m not sure where you’d fit any more muscles.”
“Oh, there’s a few more places.” I was going for sarcastic, but watching Dylan’s face turn bright red made me realize that’s not how he took it. And nothing I could say would make the situation any less awkward, so I shoved another bite of eggs in my mouth and let the moment pass.
A few more forkfuls later and Dylan’s complexion had returned to its usual tone.
“While I’m stuck in the cabin today, what will you be doing?”
I shrugged. “Might go for a swim.”
“Ooh, that could be nice. I don’t need to put as much weight on my feet in the water.”
“You want to join me at some point then?” The question left my lips before I even thought of the reality.
Before Dylan’s arrival, I had planned on spending the majority of the summer tanning every part of my body. This was the first time I realized that wouldn’t be happening unless I went off on my own.
If circumstances were a little different, I’d suggest skinny dipping, but based on both distant and recent past events, situations involving nudity and my former stepson were a bit implausible.
On a whim, I had packed a very skimpy option, but it was one I never planned on using. I could wear running shorts or even my UnderArmour trunks, but that seemed a bit ridiculous. I was probably reading too much into the whole situation. A pair of neon micro swim briefs would be fine.
“I can try later today. Let me know when you’re going.”
“Will do.”
Swimming was what we did at the lake. Every summer.
Backing out now wasn’t really an option.
I did it.
I found them and put them on. Like an adult.
I said I was going swimming and I was. After all, my tiny blue Competition Crew Aussiebum swim briefs covered a portion of my body.
Certainly more than when Dylan walked in on me pleasuring myself with that fucktoy.
I hollered down to him that I was going swimming and asked if he wanted help to get to his room to change.
“I’m good. Boy Scout motto. I put my trunks on this morning after breakfast.”
As I came down the stairs, towel around my neck, I said, “At least you learned something in the scouts.”
“I learned more than tha—” Dylan stopped as soon as he saw me. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
Okay, maybe I should’ve worn shorts.
“Shit. Forget I said that. It’s your summer. You can wear whatever you want.”
“Do you not want me to wear this?”
“No, it’s just.” Dylan wasn’t even looking at me. “I would’ve worn something different if I knew you were going to be so…”
“Stylish?” I said for him.
“Revealing,” Dylan finished.
“You can still change. I’m not going to shame you for wearing whatever you like. It’s a free country.”
“I wasn’t shaming you.”
“I was only teasing.” Kind of.
“Alright, give me another minute.”
I went to help him, but he waved me off. “I’m good at hopping now,” he said on his way past me. “I’ll be back in a sex—sec. I’ll be back in a sec.”
I smirked as Dylan hopped back to his room and made my way into the kitchen to throw a few beers in a cooler.
A few minutes later when Dylan hopped back out, it was my jaw’s turn to drop a bit. I wasn’t sure if his was less fabric than mine but it was damn close. “Very nice.” I apparently felt the need to comment.
“Thanks.”
“Black suits you.”
Dylan looked down and shrugged.
I wasn’t sure what else to say. I didn’t want to embarrass him. His body was fantastic—sure, he didn’t have my bulk but he had the definition—a total twunk.
“I’ll try to not get injured this trip,” he said.
“Don’t worry”—I put my arm on his shoulder as he hopped towards the door—“if I’m needed, I’ll rescue you again. Today or any other.”