Snow Trap

When Vic felt the young man relax in his embrace, he came out of the kiss and ran his hands all over Boyd’s body, caressing bulges and exploring crevasses. When Boyd’s “you shouldn’t” murmurs died down into sighing and mewing, Vic turned Boyd and laid him down on his back on the ottoman.

“Don’t fight me in this, son,” he murmured. “We both know. We’ve both had to wait. But I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to love it.”

He pulled Boyd’s Speedo off his legs and went down on his knees between Boyd’s thighs as he spread them apart. Boyd gasped and moaned as the mouth came down over his cock head.

“No, no, it’s not right. We shouldn’t. We can’t. Oh, shit, ohhhh,” Boyd groaned as the coach gave him head with his mouth and started worrying Boyd’s hole with his fingers.

He was standing over Boyd, between his thighs, and squeezing lube on his sheathed cock when Boyd lurched to the side, grabbed his Speedo off the floor, and with a “Just can’t do it,” tumbled down the stairs.

It was later, after all the partygoers had departed and they’d eaten dinner, with Vic acting normal and Boyd trying to hide his tension in front of his father, that Karl made his announcement. Vic and Karl had left Boyd in the living room watching a match on the tennis channel while they went to Karl’s bedroom and fucked. After that they both reappeared in the living room for a nightcap.

“We have something to tell you,” Boyd’s father said as they both came into the conversation area in front of the TV and took a seat, side by side.

Boyd turned and looked at his father, trying to avoid looking at Vic, who had a very pleased with himself and confident look on his face. He waited Karl out on what he had to say.