The Two Dads Turn Me Out

It was 9:00 in the morning and already it was scorching hot outside so I called my girlfriend Rachel to see if she wanted to hang out at her pool today. She lives in a house that overlooks Mission Bay here in San Diego and it's got an amazing pool in the backyard.

"What do you mean you're not home?" I asked as I popped a coffee pod into my Starbucks Versimo machine and pushed the brew button. "It's hot as hell out and I wanted to come over and swim."

"I told you the other day that Janie, Kristy and I are going wine tasting and then to a spa today," Rachel replied.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," I grumbled. "Well crap, that sucks."

"You know you can go by yourself over if you want, Matt. Sean and Derrick are probably getting ready to head out for brunch but I can text them and have them leave the gate open for you."

"Are you sure?" Sean and Derrick are Rachel's roommates - they're an older gay couple we like to call 'The Two Dads' - and it's actually their house.

"Absolutely," she insisted. "They love you, especially the way you flirt with them."

"What?" I practically spit out the coffee I just drank. "I don't flirt!"

"The hell you don't," she said with a loud laugh. "The last time you were over... the shit you guys were saying to each other and the way you kept waggling your ass at them-"

"Shut up!" I interrupted. "I didn't! I was drinking! They don't think I'm gay, do they?"

"Of course not," she said, then quickly amended: "Well, I don't know. I don't think so."

"Great." Now I was worried.

"If you're not gay, what do you care what they think?"

"What do you mean if?" If? The hell? Did my own girlfriend think-

"—you know what I mean," she was saying, cutting into my thoughts, her tone placating.

"I'm not gay!" I insisted.

"Whatever," she sighed. "I know they think you're hot, though."

"Ew, they're so old," I laughed.

"They're not old! Derrick's 46 and Sean just turned 44."

"Like I said! That's like... 20 years older than me."

"You're so bad, Matt," she giggled. "But they like what they see."

"Of course they do. What's not to like?"

"You should wear those new trunks you got when we went to Del Mar last week."

"Really? You don't think that's going a little far?"

"Are you kidding me? They'll love it."

"I don't know," I hedged. "I don't want them to jump my bones or anything."

"You can't rape the willing-"

"What?!"

"I'm kidding," she laughed. "Look, I have to go. Maybe I'll see you later if you're still at the house."

She hung up and I stared at my phone until the screen went black, thinking about what she said. She couldn't seriously think I was... I mean... What the fuck?! Sean, Derrick and I joke around a lot but that doesn't mean anything. I like to give them shit about pretty much everything and they give as good as they get. In fact, I still blush when I think of some of the risque and raunchy comments they made the last time I was over. Oh yeah, payback's gonna be a bitch.

I found the trunks Rachel was talking about. The black and tan checkered box-cut trunks are the smallest and tightest swimsuit I've ever owned - you'll never catch me in a Speedo - and the perfect thing to tease Derrick and Sean with.

I grabbed my favorite black tank top and then rummaged through my drawers to find something to change into afterwards, settling on brown shorts from Topman that I knew would look great with my tan. They were also snug enough to keep the Dads happy. Now for underwear.

Unless I'm at the beach or going swimming, I never go commando. It's just gross. I pulled open my underwear drawer and considered my options. I stick to briefs and trunks. No boxers and definitely no thongs. I spied the stack of my white Tommy Hilfiger briefs and smiled. Yeah, perfect. The Dads will drool when they see the logo over the waistband of my shorts. I tossed them into my bag with the rest of my clothes.

I grabbed what I needed from my bathroom and took a look at myself in the mirror. My thick light brown hair was on point today and my brown eyes looked almost gold. The black tank top was just tight enough to show off how much time I spend at the gym.

*~*~*~*

I got to Rachel's house a little after 10:00, a 12-pack of IPA from Stone Brewery in tow. Sure enough, the gate was unlocked and there was a note taped to the French doors going into the family room:

"Matt - The door's unlocked so make yourself at home. We'll be back early this afternoon. The security cameras are on so feel free to sunbathe in the buff. But use plenty of sunscreen."

I rolled my eyes and laughed as I set my bag down on the couch. They had a huge outdoor living space, complete with a kitchen, bar, and patio furniture that was more comfortable than the stuff I had in my apartment. I opened a beer, put the rest into the fridge under the bar, and stripped off my tank. I flopped onto a chaise and put in my AirPods.

I spent the next couple of hours swimming, sunning myself and drinking. I also made use of the Bowflex and Elliptical they had in one of the spare rooms.

Shortly after one-o'clock I heard the rumble of the garage door.

"Hey Matt," Sean called a minute later. He was opening the sliding glass door and coming outside with two other guys. "This is Michael and Rod."

I waved and figured it was about time to leave, what with company here.

Derrick joined them as I got out of the pool, making sure I made a production of toweling off. It looked like they were going to barbeque. "I'll get out of your way," I said as I drained my beer and tossed the empty into the recyclable container.

"You went through seven already?" Derrick asked, peering into the bin.

"Yup, you can't drink all day if you don't start first thing in the morning."

"You're not leaving on our account, are you?" Michael asked, looking to Sean and Derrick.

"No, of course he's not," Derrick said as he and Rod walked back inside. He called over his shoulder, "Stay, please. There's plenty. Besides, you probably shouldn't be driving, so at least eat something."

"It's only beer," I yelled back. "I can drink beer all day long."

"We brought edibles," Rod announced in a sing-song voice as he came back outside a few moments later, holding up a tray full of cookies and brownies.

Sean turned to me. "That's mari-"

"I know what they are," I said, cutting him off. Ever since California legalized marijuana, the edibles industry has boomed.

"Oh that's right," Sean laughed, elbowing me. "I forget how much you like your brownies."

"Ass," I muttered, hip-checking him while I reached out to shake Michael and Rod's hands. "I'm Matt," I said in greeting. "Nice to meet ya. I'm just gonna grab a quick shower and I'll be back out in a few."

"No need to stop swimming, Matt," Derrick said, coming back outside. He set down a platter of thick steaks and a few Tupperware containers. I caught him looking me up and down.

"I know," I said, slinging the towel over my shoulder. "Maybe I'll go back in after I eat."

I heard hushed voices and could feel four sets of eyes riveted to my ass as I walked inside. I dropped my towel and heard a collective gasp when I slowly bent over to pick it up. I smirked. Rachel was right. The dirty old pervs were totally eating it up.

I took a long piss - so many beers - and then showered quickly. While I was drying off I realized I'd forgotten my change of clothes outside so, with the towel wrapped low around my hips, I ran back to the patio.

"Forgot my clothes," I announced as I stepped outside and grabbed my bag.

"You look fine from where I'm standing," Sean observed.

"I know," I winked as I slid by, "but I don't wanna catch cold."

Back in the bathroom, I pulled my underwear on and stopped for a few seconds to admire the way it made my ass and package look, cupping my nuts and giving them a quick, tight squeeze. I then blew my hair dry, using some of the gel and hairspray I kept here in the cabinet. I slipped on the Topmans and dug for my shirt. "Shit," I muttered, realizing I'd left it on the chaise.

Without bothering to zip up or even button, I went back outside to get my shirt. I thought Sean was going to have a seizure or something the way his eye bugged out when he saw me. I smirked at him on my way back inside.

I buttoned and zipped and then adjusted the shorts so the Tommy Hilfiger logo on my briefs was showing above the waistband of the shorts. I contemplated whether or not to wear the tank top as I straightened up the bathroom, finally deciding against it. I tucked it into my back pocket instead and went back to join the guys. I was starting to feel a little buzz from all the beers by now.

I felt like all eyes were on me when I stepped out onto the patio and Sean said, "You made that extra trip to get your shirt and now you're not gonna wear it?"

I pulled the tank from my back pocket. "If you want me to cover up, I'll-"

"No!" the guys chorused together and I laughed as I tossed the shirt onto an empty chair.

Michael was behind the bar mixing up a pitcher of margaritas and he slid one my way along with a shot of tequila. "Just in time," he said.

"Thank you," I replied. I waited until the rest of the guys had their margaritas and shots and then raised mine in a toast and downed it.

The tequila was good. Really good and really smooth and it went down really easy. A second shot followed and went down just as easily.

The margarita was nice and strong, the perfect complement to the chips and guacamole that Rod made tableside for us. "There's nothing better than freshly made guac," I commented as I scooped some onto a chip and shoved it into my mouth. The others agreed.

We sat at the large stone table when the rib-eyes were done and I was finishing my steak when Sean refilled my margarita from the new pitcher Michael just made. I couldn't remember if this was my second or third. I tried to pass on another shot but Sean wasn't having any of it.

"You a light weight or something now?" Derrick teased from across the table. This could get dangerous. My liquor of choice is whiskey. I can sip a good whiskey all night long and be fine the next day. But tequila? I've joked with friends that tequila has a 'roofie' effect on me, which is exactly why I don't do tequila shots. Margaritas are fine, but shots? Not a good idea.

"Screw you, old man," I scowled as I flipped him the bird. He laughed as I reluctantly drank the shot and then reached for a cookie. They were small, and from what Rod had said, not as potent as edibles normally are. I finished it in one bite and reached for another.

"Easy there, Matt," Derrick cautioned.

"Yes, Grandpa," I mocked.

"Is he always so sassy?" Michael asked.

"Not usually," Derrick replied without looking away from me, his eyes narrowing. "I think he's showing off for company." I ignored him.

"Oh boy," Rod chimed in, "sounds like somebody needs a spanking."

"Don't threaten me a good time," I shot back and we all laughed. Rod sputtered and margarita shot out of his mouth.

"Say it, don't spray it," I snickered as I popped the other cookie into my mouth.

"You're pushing it," Derrick said from the other side of the table, his voice a low rumble.

"Ooooooh," I came back lamely.

*~*~*~*

I made sure to stay hydrated with plenty of water, which meant I needed to pee. A lot. I felt a little unsteady as I got to my feet this time and I hoped the guys wouldn't notice how much I was swaying as I made my way into the house. I doubted it though, since their eyes were zoned in on my ass when I looked over my shoulder.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," I called out loudly.

I flushed the toilet and was buttoning my shorts when I noticed my shoulders were a little pink. There was some aloe vera gel in the medicine cabinet and I rubbed some on.

The Padres game was on the giant flat screen mounted behind the bar when I went back out onto the patio and I sat down at the counter to watch. Derrick set another margarita in front of me and nodded at my shoulders. "You got a little color today."

"Yeah, I noticed," I replied and took a sip of my drink. Like the others, this one was strong. I was going to have to either pace myself - yeah, right - or crash here if I kept this up.

"Let me put some lotion on you," he offered.

"I just put some on when I went to the bathroom," I told him.

"Looks like you could use more. I picked up some new stuff this week. Let me grab it."

"Um, okay," I shrugged and took another sip of my margarita.

He was back a couple of minutes later and swiveled my stool so he could get behind me. I was facing the guys now, the big screen and the Padres behind us.

"You're tight," he commented as he rubbed the cool lotion into my shoulders.

"Yeah," I nodded, "it's been a rough week at work."

"What do you do?" Rod asked, and I explained how I'm an assistant construction manager responsible for scheduling, oversight, estimates, contract compliance and project costing.

"So, basically you do whatever the fuck needs to be done to keep the lights on," Michael laughed.

"That's about it," I agreed.

"I can get some of these kinks out if you don't mind," Derrick offered.

"Sure," I said. "The pool and hot tub helped some, but this feels good, too."

Derrick is a certified massage therapist and Rachel always tells me his hands are magic and that I should let him give me a massage.

"I like your ink," Michael commented, indicating my tattoo, a tribal half-sleeve on my right arm that stood out nicely with my tan.

"Thanks."

"Rachel said you used to be a personal trainer?" Derrick asked.

I nodded.

"Maybe you should quit your job and go back to training full time," he continued. "Might be less stressful."

"And live where?" I laughed. "Training doesn't pay enough."

"You could live here."

"Right."

"Sure, why not?"

My head was all light and buzzy and muddled, a combination of the sun, booze and the edibles. It wasn't a bad feeling though, and I sighed deeply, relaxing further into Derrick's touch.

"Oh fuck, that feels amazing," I moaned as I let my head loll back. "Rachel says you're the best... Aw, fuck..."

"I am the best," he agreed in a low voice. "Close your eyes and relax. I'll take good care of you."

It had only been a couple of minutes and I was already so relaxed. Definitely not feeling any pain at this point. In fact, if Derrick's hands weren't on my shoulders, I felt like I could float away. I snuffled a laugh at the thought.

"What?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"You laughed."

"Oh," I sighed. "I think I'm drunk."

"Yeah, and stoned," he observed as his fingers dug into my flesh, working at a knot of muscles. "You went to town on those edibles."

I laughed. "Hmmm... I guess I did."

"Yeah, you're higher than a kite," he said, his voice still quiet.

He continued to massage my shoulders but after a while his hands began to drift southward to my chest and pecs, and he began trace circles around my nipples. I shivered at first, and then let out a long, low moan of contentment when his thumbs began to graze over the rubbery nubs.

I've got pretty sensitive nipples, which I found out when I started dating Rachel. I'm by no means a Boy Scout or vanilla, but I've never dated anybody as sexually adventurous as she is. One night she started to play with my nipples and discovered, unbeknownst to me, that they're apparently hardwired to my dick because I boned up almost immediately. The more she played with them the harder I got and I finally had to beg her to stop because I was starting to leak like a fucking sieve and I was afraid I was going to shoot in my shorts if she kept it up.

That confession turned out to be a huge mistake. A few nights later we were at a party at a friend's house and after a couple of drinks and some weed, we started making out on one of the wicker couches by the pool when she straddled me, snaked her hands up my shirt, and started flicking and tweaking my nipples. She was grinding against me the entire time and I blew my load in less than two minutes. She said she felt it when I came and thought it was funny. The front of my khaki shorts was noticeably wet and sticky but thank fuck I was able to jump in the pool before anybody saw.

I'd never felt... I don't know... so helpless? So dominated? Oh yeah, and so fucking turned on.

She seemed to get off on the fact that she could make me come pretty much on command because that hasn't been the only time she's made me cream myself.

Lately she's started playing with my ass when we fuck but I've drawn the line there. I mean, it doesn't feel bad - just the opposite, actually, and fuck if I'm telling her that! - but it just seems too gay.

Derrick was working my nipples in earnest now and I moaned again. Loudly. I rested the back of my head against his chest, humming and purring like a fucking cat. I heard a few chuckles from the Peanut Gallery, but I was buzzed as hell and ignored them because I felt too good to tell him to stop.

But damn, the way he was thumbing my nipples... making circles around them... scratching the nubs on every other pass or so... they'd gone all hard. And then I suddenly realized they weren't the only things that had gone hard.

I was chubbed up and getting a little uncomfortable in my tight briefs and shorts. I moved my hand to adjust myself, but when I cupped my nuts I felt a hole in my shorts.

No, not a hole...!!

My eyes flew open and I lifted my head. No, no, no... Oh fuck!

I looked down. My fly was open. And not just open - WIDE open. All the way down. Gaping. The white of my briefs gleamed through my open zipper, framed by the camel brown material of my shorts.

Fuck! I jerked bolt upright, almost dropping my drink. I'd have fallen off the stool if it hadn't been for Derrick's hands on me.

"I was wondering when you were going to get a clue," Sean chortled. He'd moved seats and was now only a few feet away, phone out and filming.

"I was getting ready to take bets," Michael chimed in and the guys busted up.

"Nice," I muttered, my free hand reaching for my fly.

"I figured you did it on purpose," Rod chimed in.

I didn't respond. I tried to do up my zipper but there was nothing there. I looked again and realized the little metal tab was wedged into the material at the bottom of the zipper.

"Fuck," I grumbled.

"What?" somebody asked.

"It's stuck." I finished my margarita and set down the empty glass so I could use both hands to pry the tab loose, but to no avail. It was tucked in there good.

"Here, let me help," Sean offered. "Stand up."

I looked at him blankly as Derrick gave me a push to stand up. I swayed and nearly fall back against him. "Whoah... head rush!"

Sean took the butt of his beer bottle and placed it against my nipple. I yelped. "Fuck, that's cold!"

"Got your attention!" he laughed and then handed the bottle to me. "Hold this."

I took his beer as he tugged at the material of my shorts, trying to work the tab of the zipper free. His knuckles rubbed against my dick through my briefs and I knew he could feel that I was hard. There was no way he didn't know what he was doing and I hoped like hell he didn't know what it was doing to me.

"What's this?" he asked teasingly with a wink. It was as if he was reading my mind as he grazed my hard cock with his thumb.

I swallowed nervously. My throat was dry and I took a drink of his beer.

"Hmmm, this is a tough little sonofabitch," he muttered as we went back to work. He had the fingers of both hands through my open fly now as he tried to get the tab free. I was stunned speechless as the back of his hands kept mashing against my boner and my balls. At one point he somehow managed to work the knuckles of his index fingers up and down either side of my shaft, like he was jacking me off. I gulped and, against my will, let out a long, soft moan.