Page 18 of Brought By the Storm

After realizing how creepy I was being watching the three men sweating, even to the point of being mocked by my mother, I decided to make myself useful and move my personal belongings to Eric’s bedroom. It occurred to me that, unlike the guest room, his room wouldn’t have a bureau of empty drawers awaiting the belongings of visitors. Leaving a pile of clothes on his bed seemed rude and intrusive, so I opened a few drawers to see if any had capacity. After opening one that was filled to the brim with socks, I tried the one below. It was full of undershirts and underwear. Now I felt like a pervert because I found myself checking out the type of undergarments he wore. It seemed he had a penchant for black trunks, though there were a couple of briefs and some traditional boxers as well. Picturing him wearing them was beginning to turn me on, so I slammed the drawer shut to turn off my mental movie projector and respect his privacy. Perhaps checking one more drawer would reap results and, if not, I would give up and ask him later where I could store my belongings.

Upon opening the third drawer, I gasped to see sex toys—a plug, a vibrator and a large flesh-colored dildo. By its side was a half-full bottle of lubricant. I closed the drawer as if it had burned my hand. I turned to make sure nobody had seen me invading his space, feeling more guilty than embarrassed. I chastised myself for not having thought about how there might have been personal items that were not my right to see.

I dropped my clothes on the end of his bed and sat on a nearby chair. The toys made it clear there was one thing he liked, and it forced me to think about whether it was something I could consider. As I thought about his bottom, I was becoming aroused once more, this time imagining what it would be like to enter him. I knew I was well endowed, and my first reaction was that I would hurt this smaller man, but the dildo wasn’t petite. I had never dared to ask a female companion for anal sex, and it had never been offered to me. It was easy to understand why. One thing felt too big for the other to be pleasurable. Still, the mental projector re-started of its own volition, and I could see Eric, naked on his back, knees pulled up and waiting for me to penetrate him.

I bolted from the chair and took deep breaths to calm myself. Staying in his room would just invite the images to return, so I headed down to the kitchen to retrieve the water bottles as my mother had suggested earlier. If I wasn’t helping with the outdoor efforts, the least I could do was replenish the men who were.

Once outside, bottles in hand, I marveled at how they had continued their tasks in the blazing heat. The dew point had to be comparable to what I had experienced when visiting southern American states, something I found oppressive.

Stefan saw me approaching first. “You read my mind. I was just about to ask Eric if we could take a break and get ourselves something to drink.”

Eric looked up with surprise, then embarrassment. “Oh. Guys, I’m sorry. I just got caught up with what I was doing. You don’t even have to be helping me. Stop whenever you like, and help yourself to whatever I have when you want it.”

Then he stopped talking and was staring at me with an unexpressed question. That might have been because I was gawking at him, his face wet and every muscle of his torso visible through the pointless garment he once called a shirt. “Um, I brought you water.”

Stefan chuckled. “I just noted that. I didn’t think you brought them out here for yourself. That would be cruel.”

Mateo laughed as well. “Sure would. Would you hand one over? It’s hotter and moister than the devil’s bunghole out here.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “Mateo, stop it.”

Mateo pretended to be taken aback. “What? Did we time-warp back to nineteenth-century England? Maybe we did since you think it’s too scandalous to take off your shirt. My God, Eric, it’s over one hundred degrees with one hundred percent humidity. What are you hiding anyway? A giant Mickey Mouse tattoo on your back?”

Even through the sweat and bronzing skin, I could see Eric blush. “No. I don’t have tattoos.”

Mateo took a swig of the water, then exhaled. “Right now, that’s better than sex.” He then poured some down his chest, catching Stefan’s attention. It was comical how I now seemed so aware of Stefan’s attraction to men when I had been dense about it before. “It’s nice and cool. Stefan, try it.”

Stefan hesitated, then smiled, unscrewing another bottle top and pouring it down his chest. Mateo didn’t even attempt to hide his appreciation, watching every drop on Stefan’s chest and stomach like a dog waiting for its master’s okay to lick up a treat. I glanced to Eric, who was observing the soft porn exhibit with desire and unease, eyes wide and biting his lower lip. He looked over to me and blushed before looking down at the patio as if hoping an angel would rise from the pavers to stop the decadence.

I was torn from the reverie by Mateo laughing. “Sorry, straight guy. I guess this is too homoerotic for you.”

It took me a second to conclude Mateo was speaking to me. I was of the mindset that I wasn’t heterosexual anymore, I realized. “Um, it’s okay,” I managed. “Besides, Stefan is straight, too.”

Stefan shook his head. “Carrington, I told them earlier that I’m gay.”

“You did? Why?” I didn’t know why I was asking. It was none of my business. I was just surprised that he had tried to keep it a secret for years, and now he was outing himself to everyone and their dog and cat.

The furtive glance Stefan shot Mateo gave me my answer, but he shrugged to signal it wasn’t a big deal.

Mateo grinned. “That just leaves you, big guy. Are you sure you don’t want to join the party? Gay guys have more fun.” He shot a sarcastic look Eric’s way. “Well, most gay guys do. This one’s decided he wants to be Amish.”

Eric sighed and rebuked him with little energy. “Shut up.”

Mateo was undeterred. “It’s true. When we both lived in the city, I’d drag him to the clubs and you wouldn’t believe the number of guys who wanted his ass. He was almost as popular as I was.” Mateo turned and winked at Stefan.

Eric was becoming more agitated. “Mateo, stop talking.”

“It’s a compliment. Guys saw me hanging with him, so they were always asking if I had his number. They started wondering why he was even going out because he’d never go home with anyone. He wouldn’t dance with anyone but me.” Mateo was explaining this to me and Stefan, as if we had been asking for the backstory. He returned his gaze to Eric. “Dude, people began to think you were my straight buddy.” Mateo returned his glance to me and Stefan. “Nobody ever appealed to him, or he didn’t believe they were attracted to him.”

Even Stefan seemed to pity Eric’s discomfort. “Some men are bashful. People can project the wrong intentions on introverts.”

“He’s wasting his youth,” Mateo reasoned. “In the gay world, you’ve got an expiration date at forty—earlier if you aren’t hot enough to begin with.”

“I’m forty,” Stefan whispered with embarrassment.

Mateo looked stricken. “Shit. I’m sorry. I would never have guessed. You are scorching hot. I take back what I said. Nobody would say no to you.”

Stefan shot me a glare, the meaning clear that I was the exception and, therefore, the foolish man who had lost his chance. “Thanks. There have been a couple who didn’t find me hard to resist. I guess I should count my blessings it wasn’t a majority view.”