Page 7 of The Key Holder

Despite the passing years, he was easily recognizable, a grown man now. And the fact that he was now the one to walk in on me pleasuring myself was a lovely twist of fate. Never in a million years would I have seen that coming.

Thankfully, he hadn’t seen me cumming either. I was pretty close, but hadn’t gone over the edge before the interruption. I laughed, remembering he thought I had someone up there with me. I certainly wasn’t about to tell him I was fucking one of those real-feel rubber asses. Like the advertising said—“he doesn't care about cock size or what you look like, he just wants his tight ass pounded all night.”

Sounds perfect.

I wiped the sweat off my brow and kept running. It was still early, but it looked like today was going to be a warm one.

Based on his reaction after I had put some clothes on, I could tell that Dylan wasn’t thrilled that I was at the cabin, but I was happy that he was okay with me staying. For the night anyway.

The truth was that despite my revelation years ago that I was more interested in men than women, I had yet to find anyone even remotely worth spending the rest of my life with. I was beginning to think it wasn’t in the cards.

I wasn’t quite sure how Melissa forgot about me staying at the cabin either. After all, it was kind of her idea. It was a sabbatical of sorts. She suggested I take the time to relax and come up with a better plan than hookup apps.

I wasn’t sure what that meant though. Where was a thirty-eight year old minimally experienced bisexual man supposed to meet potential husbands? It didn’t seem like many men were interested in husbands lately. They all wanted my body. Hell, some of them just wanted my cock.

And while it was fun the first few years. A lot of fun.

It had lost its appeal in recent years.

Going to the gym for a workout became an exercise in how to creatively tell men to fuck off. That’s part of why I had started running more…and not on the treadmill. Men can't bother you on a treadmill if you’re not using one. Plus, it was much nicer to run outside.

A lot of my former Olympians were out and proud now, and in serious relationships. Cam and Luke were still together. Orion and Colton had both come out and were with serious boyfriends, and Tyler was married now. It was hard not to feel like I was missing out.

I was one Mazda Miata away from a mid-life crisis. Well…pre-mid-life crisis.

I wasn't forty just yet.

I knew it was unlikely I’d run into Dylan while leaving the house this morning—he was always a late sleeper—but I couldn’t help but wonder if he still felt the same as last night. Did he change his mind or was he still okay with me sticking around for the summer?

I knew why I was here—not that I had told him. But why was he here? And alone too.

He wasn’t on the couch when I left, so at some point in the night, he had moved to his room because his truck was still parked in the drive.

Maybe he’d be awake by now?

I slowed to a walk to start my cooldown. The sunlight glinting off the lake sparkled through the trees every few steps or so. Most of today’s trail threaded through the woods though there were a few gaps in the treeline that gave a nice view of the water. There was plenty of time for sightseeing though. For now, I was ready for some breakfast.

As quiet as I could, I entered the house, hoping to not disturb Dylan if he was still asleep. Wiping the sweat off my brow with my shirt, I headed to the kitchen.

“Jesus!”

I stopped in my tracks, catching Dylan’s gaze, and let my shirt drop. It didn’t take an ophthalmologist to figure out what he was staring at.

“Morning!” I said, trying to play it off.

“Cheez-Its,” he said, glancing around to grab the box sitting on the counter. “I said Cheez-Its.” He held the box up.

Was he still into me after all these years? Surely not.

“How was your run?” he asked, turning away from me to put the box in one of the cupboards.

“Great. Plenty of trails around here, but you know that. You eat breakfast yet?”

He shook his head, finally making eye contact with me again. “I forgot to buy yogurt.”

“I’ve got plenty. I don’t mind sharing.”

“Really?”