If You Choose Not to Decide Ch. 01

Terry came out of the house. Brent was just coming around the corner. "Hey, Terry!" he said. His teeth were very white against the tanned skin of his face. He cut off the lawnmower. "I hope you don't mind I parked in the carport. I didn't know when you'd be back. I can move the truck if you want."

"No, that's all right. I can move my car when you get done."

"Works for me," Brent said, and started up the lawnmower again. It was warm outside, and his skin, naturally olive with an overlay of ruddy tan, was gleaming with sweat. He moved past Terry and disappeared around the other corner of the house.

Among the things Terry had picked up while he was out were four cans of oil and a filter. It did not take him long to change the oil in his car, and then he went inside and logged on long enough to check his e-mail. Nothing. Nothing from any of his friends, he had no plans to buy a house no matter what the current prime lending rate was, and he did not need a larger penis, thank you very much. He logged out and abruptly decided he could use some fresh air.

Brent had just finished up with the grass and was lifting the lawnmower back into his truck. He smiled as Terry approached him. "Hey, what's up?"

"What were you going to do next?"

"Edge, weed; there are some dead limbs on some of the trees that need to come off. Why do you ask?"

"I thought I'd join you."

"You don't have to do that. It's my job, and it's enough your mama is paying me."

"I just want to do something. I should have been seeing about this, but I haven't even thought about it." Terry was beginning to feel silly, like a bored kid trying to find something to do.

"Well, Ok, you want to do something, you can edge—edger's in the truck."

There was a goodly amount of edging to do—long driveway, carport slab, front walks, and patio in back, and Terry hadn't operated an edger in a while. It took him longer than he expected. It was hot, so he took off his shirt and tossed it on top his car. He was partway through the edging when Brent came around and waved a hand in his face to get his attention. In his hand was a large, grubby plastic bottle of sun block. Terry turned off the edger and put it down.

"You are gon' be red as a brick inside an hour, you don't put some of this on," he said. He handed the bottle to Terry and stood watching while Terry anointed his chest, stomach, shoulders and arms. Naturally, he had trouble getting his back evenly covered. "Here, I'll get that," Brent said, taking the sun block from him. "Turn around."

Brent squirted a glob of the ointment into his hand and applied it to Terry's back. It was a little more than simply having lotion rubbed into his back and a little less than a massage, but it felt so good that he mindlessly closed his eyes and leaned back into Brent's hands, as if he were in fact being given a massage. Brent moved closer to him. Terry felt the heat from his body; smelled, over the lotion, sweat, cut grass, earth, a trace of gasoline, a whiff of Juicy Fruit. "You like that, huh?" His voice was pitched a tone lower than usual, and sounded intimate, as if they were in alone together in a room. Startled, Terry stepped away and turned around to face him.

"Yeah. Felt real good. You, um, ever work as a masseuse?"

"Nah, it's just something I know how to do. I did take a course in a school, but I haven't taken the exam for my license. Haven't gotten around to it." Brent dug in a pocket of his cutoffs and produced a small tube of something. "Here. Take some of this too."

"This" turned out to be zinc oxide in a cool color, bright toxic green. Terry applied some to the bridge of his nose and under his eyes and handed the tube back to Brent.

They continued to work on the Pellegrin lawn together, often on opposite sides of it, but the touch of Brent's hands on his back, and the way his voice had sounded, had raised Terry's late-developing antenna. He was aware of Brent's eyes on him from time to time, and he found himself stopping work frequently to look at the other man. Naturally he compared him with the only other man he had ever been with. They were of quite different types. Brent had the look of a Frenchman that many people in this part of the country had, with skin that tanned ruddy in the summer and faded to near-sallowness in the winter. He also had more body hair than Gavin—a sleek layer of dark hair on his chest and a line of it down the center of his belly, running down past the waistband of the worn cutoffs that were molded by heat and perspiration to his narrow hips and firm ass. He probably had quite a forest down there.

Terry had just handed Brent a pruner and he was trying to saw off a withered, lifeless limb that was high up on a water oak. It was almost too high to reach without having to go to the trouble of fetching out a ladder, but Brent was giving it his best shot. It occurred to Terry that this was something he could better do, since he was three or four inches taller, but suddenly his eyes were filled with the sight of Brent's body at full stretch, calf muscles bunched as he stood on tiptoe trying to get a purchase on the limb with the serrated edge of the pruning saw, lean belly sucked away from the waist of his shorts. All he could see, all he could think about, was that line of hair and where it led to....

The limb separated from the tree but stayed caught in the branches surrounding it. Brent relaxed and lowered the pruner. He lowered his gaze and found Terry looking at him. There was no time for Terry to pretend he was doing anything else. Brent's eyes caught and held his, and he smiled, slowly, sensually. In the afternoon sun his eyes, which had seemed just brown, had golden streaks like dark tiger eye quartz. There was an infinitesimal chip in the inner corner of his right upper incisor. Terry moved closer to him. Their bodies were only a few inches apart. Brent let the pruner he was holding drop to the ground. He was wearing cotton work gloves and he pulled them off and dropped them, too.

"You like what you see?"

I'm on my own here, Terry thought. Accepting that, he took one of Brent's hands and pressed it against his rapidly stiffening cock.

"What do you think?"

"Oh, hey," Brent murmured, grasping Terry through his khakis and gave him a strong, firm caress. Terry put his other hand on the side of Brent's face and angled his head for a kiss. Brent's eyes momentarily slewed toward the empty (so far) and sunlit street. "We're kind of exposed, mon ami, he said. "We'll pick this up inside." He had placed his other hand on Terry's shoulder, and now slid it down and gave Terry's nipple a flick with his thumb. Terry gasped and his cock jumped like a caught fish in Brent's hand.

There was a sudden crackling noise overhead and the limb which Brent had sawed off only a few seconds before fell free of the branches in which it had been caught. The two men jumped aside just in time to avoid it falling on their heads.

Terry was very glad that the branch hadn't fallen on him; he was also relieved that the near-accident had distracted him so that he wasn't striding all over his front yard sporting wood for the benefit of whichever of his neighbors happened to be looking out. They were able to wind things up swiftly, even though Brent insisted on following his usual fussy and complex protocol for getting his lawn care equipment stowed back in his truck. Now, while they were working, they kept smiling at each other and finding excuses to touch.

Once inside the house, Brent said, "I could use a shower. Would you care to join me?"

They shucked out of their clothes in a hurry, leaving them in a heap on the bathroom floor, erections springing free and swinging like booms. For some reason, this made them laugh. Terry leaned into the tub enclosure and turned the water on. He always liked to adjust the water temperature before he got in the shower, because that way he avoided the blast of residual cold water in the pipes.

"There you go," Terry said. "Hope you like that temperature."

The light in the bathroom was good, and the curtain was transparent. All the shower curtains in the Pellegrin house were clear—Victoria insisted on it. Terry blamed this on Alfred Hitchcock. Brent got under the spray and began wetting his hair and turning around to let the water get all over his skin. He had been perfectly serious about the shower, whatever else he intended. When he was thoroughly wet, he pushed the water out of his face and back through his hair. His hair slicked back, the tiny gold hoops in his ears, gave him a sleek, Euro look. The water had smoothed all the hair on his body down in a swimmer's pattern, but it started to curl again around his nipples and in his pits as soon as he was out of the stream. He smiled at Terry. He had parenthesis-like dimples on the corners of his mouth.

Terry pulled Brent into his arms. It felt strange, holding another man in a full-body embrace. No soft breasts to press against him, and two hard dicks to get trapped between them instead of just one. There was one thing, though, that he didn't think would feel that different...

Just before their lips met, Brent drew back, swallowed...then Terry understood. He was getting rid of the Juicy Fruit. Terry grinned and covered Brent's mouth with his. Brent's tongue spiraled around his and drew it in deep. Terry loved to kiss. To this he attributed most of his success with girls. It seemed to be succeeding with guys, too. He backed Brent against the wall of the shower, and they grooved mindlessly on the taste and texture of each other's mouths, rubbing their cocks against each other's bellies.

Brent broke the kiss, breathless, eyes slightly glazed. "Man, you are one damn good kisser," he said. "Let's get cleaned up and out of here before I waste a shot." They showered with dispatch.. Terry would have loved to continue fooling around with Brent right there in the shower, but he knew the hot water would run out soon. They washed each other's backs. The landscaper had a great back—probably because of all the labor—with the double column of muscle and the little flat dimples just above his ass that one saw on the very fit. His leg muscles were so well defined you could almost cut yourself on them. He was past the lankiness of youth and looked strong, competent—and very hot. Terry was enjoying his first chance to look openly at another man's body with the anticipation of playing with it. With Gavin, he'd first been too nervous, and then too busy. Brent was mostly tanned, except for where he wore shorts—and the sun socks on his feet and ankles. The lush growth of dark hair around his sturdy, terra cotta colored cock, so thick that the skin beneath could hardly be seen, looked as if it had been trimmed. Terry was glad to note that what Brent had was not much thicker than his own. He had no idea what sort of things his new friend liked to do, but the thought of having something of Gavin's dimensions up his ass would have filled him with apprehension.

Terry got another towel out of the linen closet and tossed it to Brent. While they dried themselves, Terry snapped his towel out and snagged it around the other man's hips and drew him close for another kiss. Their tongues glided and danced; their beards rasped together; their breathing quickened. Terry groaned into Brent's mouth, clutched his ass and pushed his cock against his belly. Brent broke out of the kiss again. "I can hardly wait to see what else you can do with your mouth," he said. "See how you like this." Bending a little, he fastened his lips to one of Terry's nipples, he sucked it, hard and quick, pulling the erected nub of flesh between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue. Sensation roared through Terry like a firestorm. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do or have done to him, but he wanted it badly and he wanted it now.

"Let's go in my room."

They tumbled onto Terry's bed, which he had not bothered to make that morning, not caring that they weren't completely dry. Brent rolled on top of Terry, pinning him down, grabbing his head and invading his mouth with a total kiss, which Terry ate and drank of until he just couldn't stand it any more, and he began tickling Brent's ribs. The other man rolled off him, laughing.

"What was that for?"

"Because I'm about to explode. Give me a chance to cool down."

An inward, remembering look passed over the landscaper's face, but then he gave Terry an oddly affectionate smile. "I get you. But don't wait too long, I'm not cooling down any." He lay back in a relaxed pose, one leg bent and the other straight, his arms pillowing his head, but his cock was not at all relaxed; it lay stiff and twitching on his belly. Terry lay down next to him.

He touched the tip of his tongue to one of Brent's nipples, and it emerged from the little nest of silky hair surrounding it, hardening to rubbery firmness. He drew it between his lips the way Brent had done with him, and was gratified to hear the other man's shivering inhalation, and see the goose bumps that suddenly roughened his skin. "Do the other one," Brent murmured. "Ohhhhh." He caressed the back of Terry's head, and then his hand nudged it gently southward. "Now suck my cock. Please."

Terry squirmed down to where he was at somewhat right angles to Brent's body and took the man's shaft in his hands. Whoever said that they all looked the same obviously didn't know what he was talking about, he thought. The veins on this one were fine and rested below the surface; the head, smaller than that of the last one he'd handled, was a few shades lighter than the body, a subtle warm fleshy color. He thought it might be uncut, but since it had been erect all the time he'd been observing it, he couldn't be sure. The tip was as bare as any of the ones he'd seen in locker room or in movies. A clear drop of precum welled up in its slit. Terry licked it up, tasting the delicate salty liquid, and closed his lips firmly around the head. It was hard, as hard as his own, and a good, comfortable fit; he worked his way down, and down, tongue twirling and lashing. He flicked and sucked at the little underside place where head and shaft met, and Brent grunted with pleasure and freeing one hand from behind his head, reached down and began playing with Terry's cock so it wouldn't get bored. No danger of that, Terry thought; he was having too much fun seeing what kind of tongue caresses, what degree of suction he could use, to get a wild twitch, an involuntary thrust, some new sound out of Brent. Meanwhile, Brent's slow hand was driving him wild...

The world narrowed down to the sensation of Brent's cock in his mouth, the hard body tensing and flexing under his hands. He sucked and licked extravagantly, letting the saliva flow freely, knowing he was making a bunch of undignified noises and not caring a bit. He cut a look upward at Brent's face. The man looked as if he was hurting—but it was a good hurt. He bobbed and pulled and plunged. Brent's breaths steepened into moans. "Uh—" he got out, and then his body pronated, his legs stiffened; his cock swelled, hardened, and began filling Terry's mouth with warm pulses of semen. "Oh! Oh, God..." His skin grew suddenly damp. The hand he had on Terry's cock gripped firmly; the other he ran through Terry's hair. Terry swallowed and kept on swallowing. The output seemed immense and like it was never going to end.

It did, though. Brent sat up and raised Terry so that their faces were level. "Don't swallow it all yet," he said, and opened his mouth into Terry's. They shared the taste. "Damn, that was good!" He lay back on the bed. "Your turn. Come on up here, cher. Yeah, that's it. You're right where I want you." He was on his knees, his cock, which had lost some of its stiffness due to distraction, bobbing in Brent's face. Brent took it in his hand, and it revived at once. Brent's other hand cupped his balls. Terry was beginning to leak. Brent's tongue curled around his cockhead and pointed into his slit. "Mmm, good. " He pulled Terry forward.

"You sure you want it like that? Once I get started...I mean, last time someone fucked me in the mouth I thought he was gonna kill me."

Brent grinned around the end of Terry's cock. He thought of Sidonie, smiling at him the same way.

"I can take it," he said. "Mm, what a hard piece of andouille you have!" He opened his mouth wider and took it all. Terry didn't know where he could be putting it and was past asking. He rested his hands on the headboard of his bed and had at Brent's hot, mobile, knowing mouth. After a few minutes, Brent stopped him and made him pull out so that he could wet two of his fingers. Terry knelt still, trembling a little with nerves and excitement, as Brent's fingers slid up his ass. He had taken the trouble to purchase a slender probe in a sex shop in New Orleans, and it was fun to practice with, but living flesh was different. Brent pulled him into his mouth again, and he was caught in a current of sensation, rocking forward into the mouth in front of him and back on the fingers behind him. They narrowed the range of their stroking to circle and rub his sweet spot. He felt the charge of approaching ecstasy build in his whole body. Brent's free hand traveled up his chest and strummed one of his nipples. A triad of sensations slammed into him like currents converging in a narrow channel. Thighs tensed, knees gripping the mattress, hands gripping the headboard, he threw back his head and howled, firing his load down Brent's throat.

--Spent, he lay curled up next to his lover, head pillowed on his chest. Brent laughed softly.

"I might be just guessing, but I think you liked that!"

"Wow. Just wow. Yeah, I did."

Brent smiled at him with sweet, relaxed mouth and half-lidded eyes. "Well, I liked it too. You taste good and got a decent length on you; I like that in a man. I sure am looking forward to having you in stick that thing in my ass, by the way."

"You'll have to guide me," Terry said

Brent grinned wickedly. "I'll be happy to do that!"

"Seriously. I've never done that before."

"Yeah? No shit? You've only bottomed?"

"I haven't done either one. This is the second time I've done—this—with another guy, that is."

"I wouldn't have guessed. You sucked my cock like a champ. So, tell me about this other time."

Terry gave a short account of his last day at his old job, the encounter that turned into a threesome, and the way that, toward the end, he and Gavin had gotten into each other...

"Here, I'll show you something. Look in my bedside table, there's a little key in there; can you give it to me? Thanks." He got up and leaned over the edge of his bed. Under the bed was a small safe in which he kept important papers and, occasionally, illegal substances; he opened it up. In a folder, stuck behind a report on the 401K from Latham that he really needed to roll over into an IRA, were the two sketches Gavin had made and given to him. Leaning off the bed as he was having to do put him in a vulnerable position; he felt Brent shift behind him, and he was not surprised to feel teeth nip lightly at one of his buttocks and a warm tongue slide across his hole...

He straightened up and handed the two sketches to Brent, who was now sitting back against the headboard, looking innocent.

"Ça c'est une belle femme," the older man murmured. He looked up at Terry. "But she is taken, isn't she?"

"Oh, yes. Very much so," Terry said. He was still trying to sort out his feelings about having been someone's thirtieth anniversary present.

Brent viewed the other sketch. "That's the way you look, all right!" he said, laughing. "So your first man was an artist. He's pretty good from what I've seen here. Don't throw that stuff away; it could be worth something someday!" He gave the papers back to Terry. Terry put them away, locked the box, and shoved it back under the bed. When he sat back up, Brent was lying back down, as relaxed as a cat, if ever a cat lay on its back, now-flaccid penis lying in the crease of its groin. Terry noted with a little thrill of interest that he had guessed right: it was uncut. "Yes, I am as God made me," Brent said. "Don't tell me you never saw one of these before."