The day is finally here...my mother's 90th birthday, and the release day for Out of Bounds! I wasn't sure I had another book in me, but here it is. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it. Enjoy!
He fell for another man.
Then he met the perfect woman…
I stole another peek at him, praying to God I could keep my ass in the chair instead of grabbing him and kissing him senseless.
Yep. He was still there and still as irresistible as ever. Those big, brown puppy-dog eyes and dark, tousled hair drove me absolutely wild—every single day. I was dying to tangle my fingers in that hair when I kissed him, gliding my tongue between his soft, sensuous lips. Lying with my head on his stomach while I devoured him would be sheer heaven. I wanted his cock hard and slick in my mouth. Wanted to feel his body tighten right before he came in my face. Then I wanted to get lost inside him and never find my way out.
I would be careful—never hurt him or be too rough. I would take time to explore his body, making love with him gently at first, and then harder and harder until he was groaning and screaming in ecstasy. I wanted him to be mine—all mine—forever. I wanted him bad.
Of course, if he’d had any idea what I was thinking he’d probably punch my lights out—and who could blame him? The best I could tell, he wasn’t into guys. He liked girls, and it was my tough luck that I happened to be a guy. I usually liked girls myself, but this guy, this delightful David, made me wish we were both gay. But we weren’t, and knowing we could never be more than friends was just about to kill me.
David. It wasn’t even a name I particularly cared for, being a bit overused. I wouldn’t name my son that, for example, preferring something a bit less traditional, although for some reason it suited him perfectly. His last name was Adams, which was also fairly common, but what’s in a name? David, by any other name, would have been every bit as sweet, every bit as enticing, and every bit as irresistible.
He was beautiful. Hell, he even smelled nice. Not like some guys I’d hung out with over the years. Made me wonder how they ever got laid. Women don’t like shit like that. They like their men fresh and clean, not stinky and scuzzy. At least, that was my take on the subject.
Women liked me okay. I’d dated quite a few in my time—maybe not as many as I had during my playing days when the media referred to me as Kyle “Golden Arm” Sorenson—but several. Sometimes a woman would hang around for a while, although most of them didn’t. Of course, I’d never loved any of them, which was probably why they never stayed very long. I’d been alone for a couple of years now, and lately I hadn’t even been looking—mainly because of the distraction sitting at the desk beside me.
I tried to figure out exactly what it was about him that was so fascinating, but I had no idea, really. He was beautiful in the male sense of the word—not feminine at all—so that wasn’t it. I only knew that every time I’d try to tear my eyes away from him, almost before I realized it, they’d go creeping back in his direction. He was so cute, so hot, so adorable.
I’d never considered men to be adorable—or cute. Babies were adorable. Baby rabbits and puppies were cute, but not you-make-me-want-to-fuck-you cute.
The worst part was the office we shared was so damned small, I couldn’t help bumping into him once in a while. Well, okay, so maybe I was starting to look for ways to do it on purpose, because I sure as hell couldn’t tell him how much I craved his touch. I wanted him naked in my lap while I fondled his cock or leaning back against my chest with my arms around him, his dick in one hand and his balls in the other—in my hands, I mean. He could put his own anywhere he wanted.
Hearing David saying to me, “Man, you are so hot. I’d love to get my hands on you sometime,” would be a dream come true.
Dream on, Kyle. Not gonna happen. No way, no how.
Even that pearl of wisdom didn’t stop me from fantasizing. The trouble was with my penis in fucking mode all the time, I was having difficulty concentrating on anything else. After all, David and I did have work to do, but I couldn’t help wishing maybe someday we could take a break and go suck each other off in the men’s room. Or maybe the women’s room. That would freak them out, wouldn’t it? Then again, some of them might stay to watch us—might even help out a bit. Maybe that hot, leggy blonde who worked down the hall. We could both go down on him together. She could suck his balls while I sucked his cock.
No. That was no good, because I really didn’t want to share him with anyone. I wanted his hot little ass all to myself.
My attraction to him wasn’t only about sex. I really, truly liked him. He was kind, he was funny, and the way he cut through the bullshit was refreshing. He was lovable, warm, and—charming? Is that the right word? I think so—either that or engaging. I had no idea what other people thought of him, but I couldn’t understand why the whole damn world wasn’t as crazy about him as I was.
I toyed with the idea of putting in for a transfer so I wouldn’t have him in my face every day, having to look at him, smell him, hear his voice, listen to the rhythm of his breathing—even the tap of his fingers on the keyboard. Blocking him out was impossible. Besides, I didn’t want him to think I was ignoring him or didn’t like him. The fear of hurting his feelings had kept me quiet so far, and I certainly wasn’t going to mess it up by blabbing about it now. I tried to be a good friend, because I wanted him to think of me kindly, even if I couldn’t hope for more. I spent a good, solid hour at the gym every night trying to work him out of my mind—and I’d still go home to my empty house and jack off thinking about him.
I tried checking out the other men at the gym—believe me, I tried—but they didn’t do a damned thing for me. They never had, and God knows I’d seen plenty of naked jocks in locker rooms through the years. I mean, I normally liked women as much as the next guy, and I still did, so why David? What the hell was wrong with me? Was I gay, straight, bisexual, or confused?
The Friday before Labor Day was long and frustrating. My damned computer kept spitting things back at me, locking up, or shutting down altogether. I’d missed lunch, was starving to death, and the back of my neck felt like it was on fire. I had my fingers on the keyboard and had dropped my head down to stretch my neck in a desperate attempt to get some relief, when I felt his hands on me.
“Hurts right here, doesn’t it?” he asked as his fingers ran intuitively over the center of my pain.
“Yeah,” I replied, which was about all I could say, because his touch was sending a wave of thrills throughout every fiber of my being. My brain turned to pulp and I couldn’t think of another thing to say. Nothing remarkable or witty, which wasn’t too surprising since I’d never been known for my clever tongue. My post-game interviews were notorious for being composed of one cliché after another.
He didn’t ask if I wanted it, didn’t ask my permission, but began a slow, deep massage of my neck and back, and before long, I was practically in tears with relief, along with a healthy dose of sexual arousal. And then David, my charming, adorable David, had the audacity to say, “You need to loosen up, Kyle. You’re way too tense.”
Understatement of the year.
“No shit. I work out all the time and it doesn’t do any good. What do you suggest? Herbal tea? Meditation?” I knew what I would have liked to suggest, although going down on him at that point was totally out of the question.
“Might help,” he conceded. “But I was thinking more along the lines of going home and having a beer or something.”
“Yeah, well, that couldn’t hurt either. I—what time is it?”
“Quarter ’til five.” His gurgle of laughter brought a warm flush to my face. “We’re almost out of here for the long weekend, buddy. Got any plans?”
“Nope.” This was nothing new. I never seemed to have “plans” anymore. “Just gonna go home and crash, I guess. Although I have plenty of work to do there.” I always had work to do at home. Sometimes I wondered if it wasn’t the only thing keeping me sane. There’s a lot to be said for hammering and drilling and sawing and painting and—
“Want some company?”
“Sure,” I replied before I had the chance to register what he’d meant.
“Some.” I shrugged. “Might not be what you’d like, though.” David still had his hands on my neck, and I was almost to the wet rag stage—except for my dick, which was as hard as ever and oozing all over my shorts. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.
“I’m not particular,” he said. “Any beer will do.”
“We can always get more,” I said, although I knew that getting drunk with David around was a bad idea—a very bad idea. I might end up doing something really stupid, and the devastation I would feel when I saw the horrified look on his face if I’d ever come on to him wouldn’t be worth it. Then again, since it took several beers to get me even the slightest bit tipsy, I could probably risk drinking one or two.
“Think it’ll take that much?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
David shrugged. “To loosen you up.”
“Shit, I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Actually, you’re doing a pretty good job there, David. I don’t think I’ll need any beer if you’ll do more of that when we get to my place.”
“Sure, Kyle,” he replied. “Anything you like.”
I choked back a sob. He couldn’t possibly have known what I wanted—his nonchalant response proved that much—and I’d certainly be the last one to ever tell him. Women usually seem pleased if you act like you’re interested, but this was so different. Guys don’t ever want anyone thinking they’re gay, and they don’t want to attract the interest of anyone who is. I didn’t consider myself to be gay—at least, not in the strictest sense of the word. Like I said before, I didn’t prefer men in general; I only had the hots for David.
“Actually, one beer is plenty for me,” David said. “More than that and I get—well, I’ll tell you about that some other time.”
I couldn’t imagine anything worse than what I was thinking of doing to him, although everyone has their limits. I began to rethink the idea of letting him come over. I should have come up with some excuse, should have lied…
“Aren’t you going to ask me to explain that?” He gave my shoulders a squeeze. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
I dropped my head again. Of course I was curious. I wanted to know everything about him, right down to how often he trimmed his fingernails. I wanted to know every detail—from the momentous to the mundane—especially the things no one else would ever know. His deepest secrets, his hopes and dreams, his failings and his strengths. I wanted to know all of those things, but in all honesty, I hardly knew anything about him—including how to reply to what he’d just asked me without saying the wrong thing.
“I figure you’ll tell me when you want to,” I said with what I hoped was an indifferent shrug. “I can’t force you to talk.”
“True.” His fingers trailed over my back, up my neck, and then into my hair, almost as though he’d forgotten what he was doing. “So, what do you say? We spend the weekend crashing at your place?”
The entire Labor Day weekend? How could I possibly get through three days with David in my house?
The answer was quite simple, because if I drank even one beer, he’d probably be gone within moments, owing to the fact that I didn’t think I’d be able to keep my hands off him. Simply being alone with him in my house would probably be enough; I wouldn’t have to take that first sip to be all over him. David had his hands on me already and all I could think of was how much I wanted to turn around, wrap one arm around his hips and unzip his fly with the other hand. Then I’d play with his dick, licking and sucking it until he shot his load. The mere thought sent an involuntary shudder of desire through me.
His hands froze on my back. “Don’t like that idea?”
“N–no, yes,” I stammered. “That’s not what I meant. I think it sounds great. I haven’t done that sort of thing since college.”
“Me, either.” The wistful note in his voice was impossible to miss. “I used to love hanging around the dorm with the guys on weekends, doing whatever we felt like. I miss that.”
I’d have been willing to bet he’d never done any of the things that I was thinking about doing with him while he lived in the dorm. No, the guys he’d hung out with had probably gone out chasing girls all weekend. That’s what I’d done—when I wasn’t studying, or working out, or going to football practice, that is. We all wanted to get laid back then, but we liked being together too. Goofing off and doing stupid stuff.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Those were the days.” Viewed from the perspective of the ripe old age of thirty-six, my college days were on the verge of becoming a distant memory.
“So, can I take that as a yes?”
“Sure,” I replied. “Like I said, it sounds great.”
“Okay, then,” he said with the most exuberance yet. “I’ll run by my place, pick up a few things, and be right over.”
I wrote down my address and told him how to find it. Then I went home and spent the next hour or so trying to convince myself that I wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of my life.
When I opened the door for him, I couldn’t help staring. He had on an ancient sweatshirt with Whatsamata U and a picture of Bullwinkle the Moose on the front of it. Somewhere along the line he’d cut out the neck and the waistband and chopped the sleeves off just below the elbow. My eyes swept downward, taking in the chinos and flip-flops that completed his ensemble. Carrying some spare clothes stuffed into a grocery bag, a sack full of snacks, and a six-pack of Michelob Lager, he was simply irresistible.
He flashed a warm, ingenuous smile at me, let out an enthusiastic, “Hey, Kyle!” and I fell in love with him all over again. Fighting an overwhelming urge to take him in my arms and kiss him until he melted, I stood back from the door while he breezed on past me, chatting the whole way.
He walked straight into my kitchen as though he’d known exactly where it was. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got whatever looked good to me. We can always go shopping for more. Oh, yeah, and this beer is cold.” He plunked it down on the counter. “No time like the present.”
I watched, spellbound, as David pulled out a bottle, twisted off the cap and chugged it down faster than many a college frat boy. Of course, that was essentially what he was—or had been—and not so long ago either, since I guessed him at somewhere in his late twenties. The smile I received after that was even bigger than the first one. Honest to Pete, it was all I could do to keep breathing.
“Haven’t done that for a while.” He chuckled. “And you can’t make me leave now, ’cause I’d be too drunk to drive.”
Clearing my throat, I asked in a voice that sounded a lot like it had when I was going through puberty, “Why would I make you leave?” Now that he was there, I toyed with the idea of locking the door and swallowing the damned key so he couldn’t get away.
He gave me a mischievous smile. “Well, I did warn you about what I’d do after one beer.”
“No, you didn’t,” I said. “You told me you’d tell me later.”
“Oh, yes, I guess I did.”
After a long, silent moment, I finally asked, “Well, are you?”
“Going to tell me?”
“In a minute,” he replied. “It hasn’t had time to hit me yet.”
I let out a long groan. “Oh, please don’t tell me you’re a mean drunk. I can’t stand that shit.”
He pitched the bottle into the trash can. “Me, either. Nasty drunks are the pits. And, no, I don’t get mean.”
I stood there staring at him, waiting for him to go on, or get drunk enough to tell me, or something. When he didn’t, I shrugged and picked up the shopping bag and opened it. Chips, hot dogs and buns, summer sausage, pretzels and—my personal favorite—Cheez-Its. The BIG ones, and a can of sharp cheddar Easy Cheese to go with them. I came within a heartbeat of asking him to marry me right then and there. He’d even gotten the right kind of beer.
“Everything okay?” He peered into the bag. “Like I said, I wasn’t sure what you might like.”
He was so close, the scent of him filled my head, sending it spinning off to God knew where. Somehow, I managed to speak. “No, you did great. All the right stuff.”
His shoulders dropped in apparent relief as he pulled another beer from the carton, twisted off the cap, and handed it to me. “You need to get started. I don’t like to drink alone.” He cleared his throat and continued in a much deeper tone, “Never drink alone, Kyle. Someone always finds out and it ruins your reputation.” Obviously noting my blank expression, he said, “Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind—with a few modifications. Haven’t you ever seen that movie?”
“No,” I replied. “I guess I should, though.”
“It has everything in it you need to know—or quote. The only movie that’s got more quotable lines is The Godfather, except I don’t like that one. Too violent. Of course, my personal favorite for quotes is The Frisco Kid. Not as universally recognized, but loads of fun.” His voice changed again, switching to something sort of Yiddish. “So, wha’do ya say we go out an’ have a little fun?” In his normal voice, he added, “Not a direct quote, of course, but close.”
I was still staring at him, completely and utterly fascinated as he moved briskly about my kitchen, making himself right at home as he stowed all the things he’d brought either in the fridge or the cabinets.
“Hey, aren’t you going to drink that?” He gestured toward my bottle of Michelob. “Come on now, Kyle. Drink it all down. You’ve got some catching up to do. We’re gonna have fun, remember?”
I felt like I’d been dropped into an episode of The Twilight Zone. Even though I’d worked side by side with him for a good while now, this was an aspect of his personality I’d never known existed, and I liked it—a lot. If he’d been actively trying to make me fall for him, he couldn’t have adopted a better strategy.
Then a terrifying thought struck me. He wouldn’t get nasty the more he drank; he would simply become more and more adorable. Would I be able to stand it? I was about to blurt out something—I have no idea what—when he started giggling.
“Oh, here it comes,” he announced. “The hot flash.”
And with that, as I stood there watching him with my eyes practically popping out of their sockets, he pulled off his sweatshirt, laid it across the back of a kitchen chair, kicked off his flip-flops, and had his pants around his feet in less time than it takes to tell it. For a moment, I was convinced that my daydreams had taken on a life of their own.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but after one beer, I get hot and have to take off all my clothes.” I couldn’t imagine what else he might need to add to that, but, unbelievably, he went on. “After two beers, I’ll be sucking your cock, and after three”—he stopped there and gave me a huge grin—“I’ll be down on my hands and knees begging you to fuck me in the ass.”
I blinked and glanced down at the bottle in my hand. I couldn’t possibly have taken more than a couple of swallows so there was no way I was intoxicated enough to hallucinate. I had to be insane. I stole another peek at him, and David, my adorable David, was standing before me with the most stunning hard-on this world has ever seen, and he’d just said… “What?”
He tossed me another grin before repeating his words slowly and distinctly, “One beer: naked. Two beers: sucking your cock. Three beers: begging you to fuck my ass.” He paused a second or two before adding with a sweeping gesture that encompassed his entire, gorgeous self, “You get all this, and HIV negative. Guaranteed.”Without hesitation, I held out my beer. “Drink up.”
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