My relationship with Matty is very complicated. According to some people, he's my "step-brother"...but I myself would never call him that at all. We've only ever seen each other twice: once at my mom and Peter's wedding (I house-sat while they honeymooned...okay, I took advantage of my step-dad's riches and lived the good life for a week), and just recently when he came to stay with me and my dad.
Matty's biological father died in a military accident when Matty was a newborn. His mother eventually married Peter. After Matty's mother died of cancer several years ago, Peter became responsible for Matty. Peter never even adopted him, just became his guardian. I'd bet money Matty's mom had some iron-clad agreement with Peter to take care of Matty. She had been a lawyer and was a careful planner. Then Peter married my mom. So now, I'm told Matty is my "brother"... No, just absolutely no.
My mom called one afternoon to tell me that Matty was transferring to the same university I went to for my undergrad work and where I'm still doing my grad work.
"I was hoping you'd let him stay with you. Peter's giving him an allowance for an apartment and such, but all Matty talks about is staying with you. You might show him around and let him stay with you for a bit...even though it's your father's house," she told me on the phone, the last part said with quite a bit of venom. "I mean, both Peter and I would very much appreciate any amount of time you could donate toward your little brother..."
"Little brother? I'm as much a relation to him as some random dude off the street. I don't consider him my little brother. And I hate that you keep trying to make it into something that it's not...and never will be..."
"Johnny!"
"Well, it's true. Heck, Peter only took him out of a sense of obligation and a promise to Matty's mom. Probably one of the few promises he's ever kept. He's always far too busy to play 'dad'; and I suppose, what, you're suddenly like 'oh, look at me, I'm such a good mom' maternal now?"
"Don't you ever say that...you are so mean sometimes, just like your father...and after all that Peter, and I, have done for you...he's basically paying for everything to get you through school so you don't pile up some huge debt...I don't really know what you're going to do with that degree...but did anyone asked my opinion about it....and I have you know.....I mean, the disregard you show...I know i've never been exactly the best..."
"Sorry, you're breaking up.....I will call you later," I replied quickly and ended the call. "UGH!" I shouted and threw the phone onto the couch. My mother walked out on us many years ago to find herself. It could have been that my dad was a rock musician and a closeted gay man. Well, she found herself with a very wealthy, very conservative, and very straight husband in Peter. In her attempt to have a perfect conservative American family - in case Peter ran for Congress or some other such nonsense - she had made her presence quite known over the last few years. Peter paid my college bills and all as payment to stay quietly in the background of their lives. I've whored around in life before. I was cool with it.
My phone pinged. I grabbed it and saw that it was a message from Matty.
"I can't wait to stay with you. In hell here. Your mother AND Peter, lol," the message read.
I couldn't say no. Matty was a little skinny nerdy guy who was very quiet. He has those really big baby blue eyes that just captivate you. He had been messaging me for a while now and we'd become friends. I don't think he had a lot of friends at home. Peter was a wealthy businessman and was never a real father to the little guy, so Matty -seeking a father figure, i guess- became rather attached to me back when we first met at the wedding of my mom to Peter. I stayed at Peter's extravagant house with Matty while he and my mom traveled the Mediterranean.
While I stayed at Peter's palatial estate, Matty became my shadow most of the time I was there. It was just the two of us in the big house in the height of summer. Leaving and going back to my dad's townhouse had crossed my mind, but I quickly came to my senses. There was no way I'd give up having a pool (indoor and out), a chef, a maid, a tennis court, a sauna, and all the other luxuries that obscene wealth could buy just because of a little tag-a-long. It'd be nice to have his company, I convinced myself. Hell, I thought, just watching the hot muscle hunk who kept the pool running and the grass cut was incentive enough to stay put.
Matty had spent most of the summer so far at some archaeological dig Peter was financing and he wanted to tell me every detail. Sitting by the pool, he'd drone on about pottery shards and lithic flakes; I was there zoning in and out, catching some rays while sipping easy breezy cocktails.
"...but Professor Todd grabbed me by the arm and, boy, he let me have it. I should have wanted to skulk back to my tent, but it was actually kind of exciting getting a tongue-lashing by someone so big in their field..." he said before taking a sip of his cream soda. He wiped at the sweat on his forehead with a red handkerchief he always kept nearby. "Yeah...," he sighed wistfully, dreaming of buried history, as he gently shook his glass, settling the ice.
I sat up and took off my sunglasses. I had seen a photograph of the hunky Professor Andrew Todd. He was big and tanned with movie star good looks.
"What?" I asked, wondering exactly what had just been said.
"Oh, when Andy...Professor Todd dressed me down for calling some piece of pottery 'a chunk of rock''. He was not happy with me. 'Always use the technical terms, boy.' I had a knack at pushing his buttons."
"Oh, I see," I responded, putting on my sunglasses again. I was so damn tired of hearing about broken junk in dirt. "Uhm, yeah, very interesting."
I started to lean back.
"You'd like him. He's a big guy...really muscled up...," he paused for a second and looked over at me, squinting his eyes in the sunshine and wrinkling his nose. "He's got a real hairy chest. You like a big hairy chest?"
"What?" I froze. "What are you talking about?
"It's okay. I know you're gay."
I swung my legs off the sunlounger. I sat there for a second twiddling my fingers figuring out what to say. Matty was an adult, just a couple years younger than I was; but I knew he was naive about the world in general. I had never mentioned to him that I was gay.
"It's cool. I just heard Peter telling your mom that he had reservations about me being here with you....but, hey, here I am. After all, I'm an adult, not some child. I was looking forward to this and I really don't give a fuck about his old-fashioned homophobic attitude, bro," he said as he moved a bit in the lounger, putting his hand behind his head and exposing his fuzzy pit.
"That mutha...," I whispered under my breath.
I looked over at Matty, noticing the dark hair under his arms and his slim tanned build. The sparse dark shadow of his facial hair stood out in the sun, as did the faunlike hair on his legs. I noticed him as something more than the younger talkative guy I had complained about before...he was looking rather cute today after all. But I'd behave. I shook my head and laid back on the lounger. I hadn't had sex in quite awhile, so I turned my back toward Matty - I knew I'd pop a boner if I kept thinking about his half-naked body just inches away. It didn't take much lately to get the sap running.
"I've got to get this fucking body tanned before I leave here," I announced.
"Yeah, all those guys probably like you being so tall, dark, and handsome. I do," Matty laughed. He sat there quietly for a second. "Okay, I'm going to grab a shower. I've got some stuff to do upstairs in my room. Yeah, just stuff to do, you know."
I heard him get up and leave. I myself adjusted the increasingly chubby cock in my swim trunks and considered a cold dip in the pool.
"Yo! Hey, Johnny!"
I turned slightly in the direction of the shout. It was Stavros, the groundskeeper. He was about my age and I had been lusting after him since I first saw him skimming the pool in a speedo when I arrived. I was considering pounding one out while watching him from my bedroom window the next time he did the pool. But I actually wanted a lot more.
Stavros was tall and lean. He had a distinctive v-shaped torso that the white tank tops he always wore only enhanced. His muscular body was hairy from his square head to his broad chest to his thick legs. The sunlight made his dark blond hair glisten as if it was spun from gold. Surveying his white tank, denim cut-offs, and leather work boots made my growing cock slide quickly across my thigh.
"I wanted to ask you over to the cabin tonight. A few of my friends from town are coming over, and I thought you'd like to join us," he asked, stroking the edges of his golden porn mustache. "I know there's not a lot of entertainment for you around here."
He gave me a deep stare. He shifted his weight and I looked down. He had hooked his thumb in the front pocket of his shorts, his fingers running up and down the tight denim. I looked up at him and he gave me a wink.
Stavros and I had talked a few times and I had asked him what folks our age got up to in this area. He explained that most of his free time was spent relaxing at his cabin on the edge of the estate's woodland, although he'd go on weekend trips to the city on occasion. With a few sentences and the way he sized me up, I knew that he was as gay as I was.
"Uhm, sure," I responded, rolling onto my back. I did nothing to hide the thickness in my trunks. "I was wondering if I could show you something in the pool house?" I sat up and rested my hand on my thigh, my thumb resting on the head of my bulge. I looked right at him. "That is, if you've got a minute...or two?"
As he stood there watching me, he shifted his weight again and put his hands on his hips. The shift tightened the frayed cuffs of his shorts around his thighs causing an outline of his big Greek cock to become very apparent.
"Please do," he responded in his slightly-accented deep voice, motioning toward the small building with a knowing smile.
