Beware of the surprise...
Dad left a couple of years ago. Apparently, Mom had suspected he found someone else, but it was still a shock to the both of us when he announced, somewhat matter-of-factly, that he was moving out to live with his new, young girlfriend. It turned out that she was only a few years older than me and, when I stalked them to find out more, discovered that she was also incredibly attractive: a tall, athletic long-haired blond with abs I envied (I first spied her as they were leaving a 24 Hour Fitness—she'd got him working out, so I guess that was a good thing...Mom had been bugging him for ages—and she was wearing yoga pants and a sports bra and he was sweating like the middle-aged man he was, but was pretending not to be.)
Mom figured her life was pretty much over at that point from a socializing standpoint. Her parents—my grandparents—passed away years ago and now she was facing an empty nest that was emptier than she ever imagined. I felt guilty leaving for college, but she was so supportive and so enthusiastic, so proud that I couldn't disappoint her by not going.
I told her that I couldn't get home for Thanksgiving. That was true at the time. I had papers to write and the travel and family and all that entailed meant that I wouldn't be able to get done what I knew was needed. Mom tried to hold back the tears, but I could tell by the stutter in her voice that she was devastated. I couldn't let that happen and the moment we'd ended our "I love yous" I was browsing the sites for the best deals back home.
It wasn't going to be cheap. I might need to do something about that.
Wyatt grew up in the same town as me, but attended the 'other' high school. It was a source of camaraderie for us alongside some harmless smack-talk and faux confrontation. He was very attractive in that prep boy kind of way, but that's what also made him not my type. Still, our interactions meant that it wouldn't seem totally inappropriate if he unexpectedly received my text.
Moments after I asked if he was going home for Thanksgiving he offered me a free ride home in his expensive car and an invitation to his Last Night pool party, happening in two hours. He told me to bring my luggage and we'd leave from there in the morning...in that "you're welcome to crash here, but I know what we're both thinking" kind of way. A party, free travel, and seeing my Mom...it was easy to say "see you in a bit."
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I decided to wear my black halter bikini underneath my denim shorts and short shirt. Sure, I looked in the mirror as I left and nodded at the stomach and abs that had undergone rigorous training for the volleyball squad. The party was evidently in full swing by the time my Uber dropped me there. The pool was packed, there were red cups everywhere, and the whole place reeked of weed.
But Wyatt was still the one who answered the door with an enthusiasm I had never seen. I was the focus of his attention for approximately 2.5 seconds before someone whisked him away to fix drinks, find more booze, or direct someone to the 'on-limits' bedrooms. I think he yelled something like "relax, enjoy yourself, see you later" as he was dragged away.
I knew a few people out at the pool and found a seat, a perfect perspective, to observe young people going wild. It was fun to watch the hook-ups, inhibitions weakened by alcohol and fueled by holiday spirit. What an excuse, right? But I did see my friend Damon, by all admissions a nerd, snuggling in the pool with Sarah from our Econ class. As these things go, he's a super-sweet 4 and she's an incredible 8, so to see them together, understanding for a moment what he was probably thinking, it made me chuckle and finish my beer.
By the time I saw Wyatt again the place was quiet. A handful of bodies had crashed but most everyone else had left. He nudged me fully awake and nodded towards a couple half behind the pool hut and half in full glare of the security light. I could instantly tell it was Damon and though I couldn't be certain it was almost certainly Sarah under him receiving a large, awkward pushing. I had to look away.
Unfortunately, "away" was straight to the waist of Wyatt, dressed in tight shorts. They left little to the imagination. I know I had instantly blushed as I looked up at him and saw him give a little knowing smirk. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which was understandable with his six-pack abs and smooth, muscular chest.
"I'm going to crash. I'll leave them to it," he said, nodding over to where Damon was still going at it. "Good for him," he added, "and you're welcome to come in the house to crash, too, though all the rooms are taken, you're welcome to use mine and I'll bunk on the floor."
He was disarmingly charming. I think I nodded as I gathered my senses. He walked into the house and I slowly stretched as I stood and paused for a moment for the dizziness to clear from my head. I walked into the house as Wyatt was bounding up the stairs. The sounds of sex and snoring seemed to be coming from everywhere. A couple were spooning on the couch but their hips were moving just slightly. I tiptoed by but they were oblivious to anyone's presence. Upstairs all the doors were closed except the one at the end of the hallway. I don't know why I loitered at one door other than simply hearing the high-pitched pants of a girl seemingly mid-orgasm, followed by a deeper groan I recognized as a guy finishing. I could see Wyatt with his back to the door and took a step forward before stopping as he unzipped those shorts, let them drop to the ground, then took a longer pair of sweat pants from the bed and pulled them on.
He turned around, seemingly aware that I was stood like a statue. I knew he'd just shown me his naked, muscular ass on purpose. He smiled affectionately and I snapped out of my gaze and walked over. Wyatt closed the door quietly behind me as I shuffled into the room.
"I've got a ton of t-shirts over there—all clean—if you want a night shirt to sleep in. And the bathroom's right there," he nodded to the door to the right, "feel free to use anything...make yourself at home."
I picked a shirt from the top of the pile, still unsure if I would wear it, but feeling a little pressured to take his generosity.
"This one okay?"
"Any," he replied, not even looking my direction as he arranged two bean bags together under the window.
I stared in the bathroom mirror for a few seconds, deciding whether to change...stay dressed...ugh, this shouldn't be so hard.
I washed my face and then decided I'd wear the shirt since I'd had the bikini on all day and it wasn't overly comfortable. I folded my shorts, shirt, and bikini and left them on the counter next to the sink and slipped on the white t-shirt. It only just covered my butt—a side effect of being tall—and realized it had the word "CAT" in bold letters and a picture of an adorable kitten underneath! I chuckled. You would have to be a confident man to wear this...unless, I slowly realized, it was a reference to pussy.
Though the shirt was a little baggy on me I did realize that my nipples were pushing at the fabric. What the hell, we all have them, I thought and went back into the bedroom.
Wyatt had arranged himself on the bean bags and was staring at his iPad. He had what looked like a towel over his legs, up to his waist, and I don't know what it was but the light of his lamp cast caused his muscles to show incredible definition. If I was a photographer I would have taken a picture.
Nervously I pulled back the duvet cover, but stood up and coughed lightly. Wyatt looked up at me and smiled.
"Nice shirt. Just give me a minute and I'll turn off the light, 'kay?"
I nodded and climbed in.
"Look, this is silly," I started, "why don't you just sleep here, it's okay. You might get cold there. Err... you know... it's your room." I was stammering, stuttering as the awkwardness made me nervous.
"If you're sure..."
I pulled back the duvet on the side closest to him and he slowly extricated himself from the bean bags. As he stood up I couldn't help but notice that his sweat pants appeared to be a little pointed. I tried not to look. Wyatt seemed not to notice or care.
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