Page 3 of The Key Holder

He moved so fast, his pale ass was a blur as he left the room.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted as he left, leaving me alone.

I made my way around the bed to where he had been crouching. On the floor was a blue jockstrap; the one he had been sniffing when I came in.

It was mine.

The brand was my favorite. Bike.

I hadn’t brought it to London because it was dirty from my last workout.

Fucking hell.

I had just caught my stepson jerking off to jock porn kneeling on top of a drawer-full of my briefs and using my favorite jockstrap as a facemask.

This wasn't how I imagined my return home.

Now what was I supposed to do?

1

Dylan

Eight years later

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting golden rays that flashed through the trees alongside the winding road. With my hands on the steering wheel and the wind in my hair, I focused on the words of Carly Simon coming from my speakers.

That was better than thinking about why I was heading into the wilderness, otherwise known as taking a break from the reality that was my disaster of a life.

The tall pines, their silhouettes dark against the vibrant sky, were like sentinels guarding the memories of my childhood. I took a deep breath and let it out. The air up here was so much clearer than the city. The familiar scents of the woods brought a calmness to my scattered brain.

This was going to be good for me.

I turned off the smooth two-lane highway and onto a pothole-ridden gravel road, giving my truck’s shocks—and my balls—a rude awakening. A glimmer of the lake peeked through the trees.

Shit!

I slammed on my brakes to avoid the deer that darted in front of me and winced as the groceries slid off the front seat, crashing onto the floor. Surveying the damage without rummaging through the aftermath, I couldn’t find the eggs but hoped they made it. Going all the way back into town to replace them would be a hassle I didn’t want right now.

But at least the deer survived.

I gently pressed the accelerator and my truck lurched forward. A few more minutes and the cabin should come into view.

I hadn’t been here in a few years, but I used to come here every summer with my mom, and then once she got married, with her and my stepdad.

Ford.

After every awful date or satisfying hookup, my thoughts always found their way to him. I tried not to think about him, but it was hard not to remember lusting after his perfect body. It wasn’t like I planned on developing a crush on my stepdad, but it was puberty…and my gay awakening. I didn’t have a lot of control over what was happening down there.

Despite all the years since their divorce, he was still the guy. The one that made me realize I was different from all the other boys. That wasn’t something easy to forget.

Even after not speaking to him—or seeing him—for years, he was still there.

With my recent string of failed relationships and self-diagnosed obsession with sex, I decided—with the encouragement of my best friend, Morgan—to have a celibate summer. Of course, ever since that decision was made, sex was almost exclusively the only thing I had talked about, so Morgan had an additional suggestion.

A cage.

I reached down to adjust my newly adorned chastity device snuggled in between my thighs.