5. Dylan
Dylan
I popped an edible this morning. I couldn’t help it.
All the tension from last night from watching him fondle the key between his pillowy pecs needed to melt away. So what if I required a little help to accomplish that?
And thank fuck I decided to take it.
I was prepared to go for a swim with Ford, not watch Adonis frolic in the lake wearing next to nothing. He used to be a board shorts guy. When did he start wearing bikini briefs? Because if he was going to work on his tan lines, then so was I.
Mellowing out helped, especially wearing so little clothing.
Already, I could feel myself focusing less on the details of Ford’s muscular forearm as it kept my balance on the way to the waterfront.
Instead I was preoccupied with my straining cock, encased in its plastic prison.
A conveniently forgotten side effect of the pot that I was now remembering.
It made me super horny.
No wonder my life was such a mess.
Not that the proximity of Ford’s body was helping either.
“Almost there.” Ford grunted while he bore most of my weight. Again.
“I swear when I’m in the water I’ll be good,” I said.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“I’m sorry I’m such a hassle.”
“It’s not a problem.” he said, as I managed another peek at his crotch. “I’m glad I’m here to help you.”
“What brand are those?”
“What?”
“Your loincloth,” I said.
“It’s not a loincloth.”
“It might as well be.”
“I knew it bothered you.”
“It doesn’t bother me. I obviously like it if I want to know the brand.” I gave them another scrutinizing look. They left very little to the imagination. There was no doubt about it. Ford was definitely a shower.
We were almost to the water when he finally answered. “Aussiebum.”
“Thank you.” My inner brat knew he’d answer me eventually. “Was that so hard?”
“What’s gotten into you?” he asked as we made it to the water.
I mumbled something which Ford apparently took for more sass because he said, “I honestly didn’t pack any other swimsuit. I was actually planning on not wearing one at all, okay?”
Oh really? “Don’t let me stop you.” I pulled myself out of his grip, hopped on my good foot a couple times towards deeper water, and let myself backflop with a splash and a smile.
Apparently that took Ford by surprise.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m good.” I smiled. “You coming in or just gonna stand there all day in your micro thong?”
Ford shook his head, but smiled. “It’s not a thong.” Wading into the water, he added, “What did you mean when you said, ‘Don’t let me stop you’?”
The pot answered for me.
“We’re both dudes, and you’ve seen mine. Who gives a fuck? Do what you want.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Suit yourself.”
I would’ve slipped my Speedo off and thrown it at him but for one minor detail. My cock cage. I might be starting to feel the effects, but I wasn’t quite at the point where I wanted to throw myself at him.
Yet.
I’d also have to explain my decision to lock it up for the summer and if I couldn’t last a week, then what was the point? Ford wouldn’t respect that.
Granted, I had already started considering ways to cheat the system. I smiled, thinking of the enormous butt plug waiting in the dresser for me. I’d always read about guys that could cum from just anal stimulation, even locked up. Reddit was full of GIFs showing just that.
It was something worth trying anyway.
“Earth to Dylan,” Ford said, swimming closer to me. “What are you thinking about with that big smile on your face?”
“Butt plugs.”
“Wh-what?”
“I’m thinking about butt plugs.” I met Ford’s gaze.
“Oh.” He seemed unbothered. “Do you often think about butt plugs?”
I burst out laughing—I couldn’t help it—he sounded like a professor, and soon, Ford was laughing with me. “Not something I’d ever thought we’d talk about,” I said.
“You’re the one that mentioned them.”
That was true, so I answered, “I partake occasionally. How about you?”
“Are we really having this conversation?” he asked.
I shrugged. “We have the whole summer to get to know each other. Does it really matter what part of our life we start with?”
“I guess not. I just didn’t expect our first topic to be sex.”
“Technically it’s our second topic,” I said. “We talked about books first. Also, butt plugs aren't really sex, it’s more sex play.”
“I stand corrected.”
“But you’re not standing.”
“Fine. I swim corrected.” Ford chuckled. “What’s gotten into you? And don’t say a butt plug!”
“Would it be wrong if I was wearing a butt plug?”
“I can’t believe you.” He rolled his eyes, but continued. “Of course it wouldn’t be wrong. It would be a little…odd. That’s all.”
“Why is that?”
“I…it’s just not the first place I’d think of to wear one.”
“So you do have experience using one?”
Instead of answering me, Ford dove under water. I watched as he threw himself out of the water. With the force of his movement, his suit fell down a little, giving me another peek of the top of his curvy ass. If I were an ass man, the struggle to not claim his hole would’ve been epic.
“Whoo! The water’s chilly,” he said, resurfacing.
I had to agree. My cock was certainly not straining anymore. It was practically inverted. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Ford smiled as he swam closer to me. “I’m bi, Dylan, not celibate. I’ve used a butt plug on others…but not myself.” That answer made my hole almost quiver. “Wait”—Ford paused before turning to me—“is that what you’re doing out here? Going celibate?”
“What?” How the fuck did he come up with that?
“I don’t have a problem with it. I’m just surprised we’re talking about anal toys if you’re trying to have a sexless summer.”
Of course he fucking remembered that .
“Talking about sex and having sex are two completely different things,” I said, debating whether or not to swim away from him. I decided it was futile.
“Did something happen?” He stepped closer, the concern on his face was clear. “Did someone hurt you?” We were only a few feet apart now, staring at each other.
How much should I say? Was this really the time? I swallowed and answered, “Not like you’re thinking. It wasn’t any one guy. I just had a string of shitty luck.”
“Shitty guys, you mean?”
I smirked. “Pretty much.”
“So you’re out here for a reset?” he asked.
“More or less. I needed time and less distractions. I don’t always make the best decisions when I…”
“Have too many options?” Ford suggested.
“Something like that.”
As a hundred images—memories really—flashed through my mind, the stillness of the lake kept me in the moment, as did the thoughtful look on Ford’s face.
“I respect that.”
“You do?”
“You needed a change so you did something about it. Can’t expect different results with the same process.”
“And what a process it was.”
Ford chuckled, then asked, “Apps, bars, or the gym?”
“You speak from experience?”
“Maybe, but now you’re the one not answering the question.”
I took a moment to absorb that this was our first real conversation in years. He still cared about me—that much was obvious. It was unexpected but sweet. “All of the above.”
“You’re moving pretty good in the water.” Ford changed the subject, as if he knew I was about to ask him about his recent romantic history.
“I’m not putting any weight on it. I don’t have to.”
“A few more days and you’ll be back to a hundred percent.” Ford leaned back, getting his hair wet again.
“I think I’d like to go for a swim every day,” I said. “This is nice.” I pushed off the sandy bottom and leaned back, floating on the surface.
After a few moments, Ford said, “You’re lucky.”
I looked at him, losing my buoyancy. After my toes touched the sand and I found my footing, I asked, “Why?”
“Because if you weren’t hurt, I would’ve tackled you just now.”
“Oh really? Tackled me? You’d do that to someone peacefully enjoying the lake?”
He cocked his head. “It’s not like you couldn’t fight back.”
“Are you challenging me to an in-the-water wrestling match?”
“Perhaps.”
“It’s a deal,” I said without hesitation. At this point, I’d do pretty much anything to get my hands on his body. Maybe he’d eventually like it?
“I’m gonna lay on the shore for a while. Get some sun,” Ford said. “You coming?”
I would if I could, bro.
The June sun was absolutely baking me and it felt wonderful, especially after the rainy spring this year. I was floating now, the edible having taken full effect, and happy. And relaxed.
Ford and I were lying in the short grass just offshore, side by side surrounded by the sounds of nature. Every now and then, the purr of a boat would come and go, reminding me that we weren’t alone, and the subsequent waves lapping the shore would crescendo and fade.
I turned over, face up, and let out a deep breath. My self-consciousness had long disappeared. If he saw the cage through my suit, so be it. That meant he was looking at my junk and if he commented, he’d be admitting checking me out. How would he explain that?
I glanced over at Ford and stared. At some point, he had pulled his minuscule swimsuit up into his crack, revealing pretty much all of his very plump, round buns. Squirt some icing on those and I’d eat that.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d eat mine.
I almost asked but thought better of it, opting for a more serious question.
“You know why I’m here. Now it’s your turn to spill.
” I watched his back tense, his butt flex, just a little.
There was a reason, and he was going to tell me.
“Come on. I showed you mine, now you gotta show me yours,” I teased.
Ford rolled onto his side to face me, propping himself up with his elbow. He was smiling. “Honestly?”
“ No, I want you to lie to me . Of course I want an honest answer.”
Ford chuckled at my reply, and said, “Fair enough.”
There was a pause.
“Well?”
“Just trying to figure out where to start.”
“At the beginning.”
“You’re such a brat.” He sighed. “It’s kind of similar to why you’re here.”
Oh really. “Go on,” I said.
“I’m not satisfied with the men I’ve been dating. They all seem to want one thing.”
“Just one thing? Is it your dick?”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. Just think of it as therapy.”
“With my stepson?”
“ Ex -stepson. Just think of me as one of your bros.”
“I don’t have many bros.”
“Well, now you have me.”
Ford continued, “I was talking about my body. Most guys just want the physical me .”
“So they do want your dick.”
“My dick is part of my body so you’re technically right.”
“I knew it!” I was tempted to savor my micro-victory and continue discussing Ford’s body but that would make me look like all these other dudes, and I couldn’t have that.
If Ford was ever going to consider me as a potential partner, I couldn’t be some desperate twink falling all over himself to be the next one to ride the Ford Express.
Wait. Am I seriously considering Ford as more than a fantasy?
I didn’t need to ask because I already knew the answer.
Before I could really wade into the mire of consequences that situation would create, I realized Ford was still talking.
“It just gets old. Everywhere I go, guys only see me for my body. They don’t ask what I’m feeling or thinking, what kind of art I like, what I’m scared of.
It gets exhausting when you’re seen by most people as an object instead of a person.
Is it too much to ask for someone to see beyond the exterior? ”
Whoa.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he added. “I made it awkward.”
“No, I’m glad you told me,” I said. Despite the edible, the reality of Ford’s situation melted all other distractions away. It was easy to focus on him. “I gotta ask though, where’re your bros? You’re the definition of a bro magnet. Aren’t you still close with any Team USA guys?”
Ford rolled onto his back, shielding his face from the sun with his forearm, before answering. It was hard to resist not ogling his package but I did.
“We’re social media close, not confess-your-deepest-fears close.”
“There isn’t anyone ?”
“Fuck!” He covered his face with his hands. “This is so depressing,” he mumbled through his fingers. “This makes me sound like I have no friends.”
“I hate to break it to you, but it sounds like you don’t, though I’m at a loss as to why. You’re outgoing, you’re friendly, you’re educated.”
“And I look like Thor.”
“Well, that should only help things!”
“It helps me in all the wrong ways. It only gets me bros that wanna get fucked,” he said, adding a heavy sigh before resting his hands on his stomach. With his eyes now closed, my gaze drifted down. His chest was glistening with sweat and he was absent-mindedly fingering his belly button.
Fuck, that’s hot.
I knew my eyes were probably bulging out of their sockets, but fuck…it seemed his swelling package was trying to make a break for freedom. Suddenly my goose-pimpled penis remembered it was a cock. Either talking about his feelings turned Ford on, or it was just that big.
I watched his chest rise and fall, knowing full well I was being completely and utterly inappropriate with my staring. This was exactly what he was complaining about—being objectified. Only thought of as a body, a thing. But I had been listening to him too. We were connecting, weren’t we?
“Did I say too much?”