— Originally published in Playguy
magazine - April, 2002 —
Your
Brother's in the Closet... Your Boyfriend's Closet!
_____
"Oh, yeah!"
Clem moaned, his body arched backward above Lang's. His arms stretched
tautly behind him in two thick, muscled columns. His ass was hovering
above Lang's lips awaiting another invasion by his lover's enthusiastic
tongue.
Lang grazed Clem's hole lightly with the tip of his tongue, then speared
it ferociously. Clem cried out, grinding his butt into Lang's face. Lang
clamped his hands onto the fleshy globes of Clem's ass, prying his butt
cheeks apart and lapping his tender rosebud.
Carefully Clem pulled one of his hands away, shifting so his knees bore
his weight. His hard cock was dripping pre-cum like a leaky faucet. He
began to stroke it, waves of pleasure making him light-headed. "Oh,
baby," he groaned, "you got me so hot. Don't think I can hold back any
longer."
Usually, this was taken as Lang's signal to ease up, to let Clem now
lavish some attention on his boyfriend. But Lang continued to gnaw at
Clem's asshole, refusing, this time, to let his lover choreograph their
sex. If Clem was on the verge of shooting his load, so be it.
Clem took his hand away from his dick, hoping that, by eliminating the
extra stimulus, he'd prolong this moment. Lang, though, was not going to
let that happen. He quickly reached around Clem's waist and grabbed
Clem's cock, picking up where his lover left off. Clem's face contorted
with the strain, as if he were trying to bench-press a refrigerator. His
position above Lang became precarious as his arms began to shake. He
tried to think non-sexual thoughts — he needed to clean the apartment, a
project at work was due next week — but to no avail. How could he not
think about sex with Lang licking his ass and pulling his cock?
Clem let out a guttural cry as orgasm shuddered through his muscular
frame. Thick streams of jism splattered his abdomen, Lang's torso, and
the sheets. Clem's skin tingled and he felt light-headed. Quickly, he
rolled off onto the bed, fearing he'd lose his balance and break Lang's
nose.
Lang sat up and smiled down at Clem. Getting up on his knees, Lang
straddled Clem's torso. Clem looked up at him and smiled, admiring
Lang's physique: the bulging biceps, the two slabs of muscle that formed
his chest, the carpet of dark hair that covered his chest and abs, that
huge cock jutting up from between his legs.
Lang dragged his fingers through the pools of cum that collected in the
valleys between the hard muscles of Clem's stomach. Using Clem's juice
as a lubricant, Lang began to jack off, his hand moving up and down the
thick shaft of his cock in long, luxurious strokes. In a minute, he was
panting heavily. His eyes closed, his head thrown back, Lang chanted
between short breaths: "I'm ... gonna ... shoot. I'm ... gonna ...
shoot!"
Spiraling ribbons of cream erupted from the swollen head of Lang's dick,
raining down on Clem's shoulder and chin. Lang's body jerked as the last
few drops of jism shot out of his cock and landed on Clem's cum-sticky
torso. Lang collapsed on top of Clem. The lovers shared a deep kiss
before Lang rolled over to the vacant side of the bed. They lay still,
their afterglow forestalling the shower they usually took after sex to
wash away the cum that glazed their bodies.
The pleasant, post-coital laziness was short-lived, however. The ringing
phone startled them both back into reality. Groaning in annoyance, Clem
reached over to the bedside table and picked up the phone. "Hello," he
said impatiently. Then, in a lighter tone, "Oh, hi! How're you doing?
No, you didn't wake me up...."
Lang lay next to Clem, listening to his side of the conversation, trying
to figure out who he was talking to, until the sight of Clem's body
distracted him. Their relationship was relatively young. They'd been
together scarcely six months and had only lived together for two. But
Lang couldn't imagine ever growing tired of looking at Clem. He admired
the perfectly rounded contours of Clem's chest, how the modest patch of
brown hair between his pecs tapered to a thin line of fur that guided
the eye down the firm ridges of his abdomen before flowering out around
his cock and balls. Usually, Lang's eyes stopped at the crotch. But when
he allowed them to continue their tour of his lover, he had to
appreciate the tight, muscular legs that were in perfect proportion to
the rest of his well-maintained body.
"Uh, sure. When? Um, that's fine. How long will you be staying?" Lang
snapped out of his reverie. Sounded like they were going to have a
house-guest.
"OK," Clem continued. "Do you remember how to get here?" Lang watched
Clem as he spoke into the phone, giving directions to whoever it was on
the other end of the line. He smiled as he noticed a dollop of
coagulating cum clinging to his lover's clean-shaven chin, just below
his lower lip.
"All right, then. We'll see you next week. Take care." Clem hung up the
phone.
"So, who's our houseguest going to be?" Lang asked immediately.
"My brother. He'll be visiting us next week for spring break."
"For how long?" Lang asked, annoyed. A houseguest would undoubtedly put
a damper on their sex life.
Clem let out a defeated sigh. "The full week."
"Does he ...?"
"No, he doesn't," Clem answered. "So as far as he's concerned, we're
just roommates."
Lang scowled. "Roommates who share the same bed?"
"It's a two-bedroom apartment," Clem said flatly. "I'll take the spare
bedroom, and Cliff can sleep on the sofa."
"Cliff and Clem? How precious. I hope he's worth my going back into the
closet for," Lang sneered.
"Don't make
this any more difficult than it needs to be. I'll tell him, just not ...
now."
Lang sighed. "I'll play along this time, for you. But don't think I'm OK
with it."
"Look, for what it's worth, we don't have to be celibate for a
week," Clem said, leaning over to give Lang a quick peck on the cheek.
"After all, he's got to sleep sometime."
Cliff arrived at Clem and Lang's cramped midtown apartment the following
weekend. As Clem headed for the front door to let his brother in, he
made one last visual sweep of the apartment, making sure he hadn't
overlooked any "incriminating" evidence when he'd "straightened" up (and
"straightened" out) the apartment. No Playguys lying on the
coffee table, no rainbow paraphernalia, no posters of scantily clad men
on the walls. Satisfied, he opened the door.
Clem's brother strode in, dressed in a T-shirt and denim shorts, topped
off with a baseball cap. He immediately dropped an overstuffed gym bag
and large canvas suitcase onto the floor. "How're ya doin'?" Cliff
drawled, giving Clem a quick hug.
Lang stood in the background, watching as the brothers greeted each
other. He couldn't help but appraise Cliff's appearance. The brothers
had similar facial features — same deep-set eyes, same full lips, same
squared chin — but on the younger brother these features were softened.
Cliff was cute rather than handsome. Still, cute was very nice to look
at, and Lang would be looking at him for a full week. Yet, there was
something else about Cliff's appearance that struck Lang and gave him an
eerie sense of déjà vu.
"Cliff, this is my roommate, Lang," Clem introduced them.
Cliff stepped forward and offered his hand. "Hey, nice to meet ya...
Lang?"
"Short for Langston. My parents were kind of pretentious," Lang joked as
they shook hands. Then, their eyes met and Lang saw the same flash of
recognition in Cliff's eyes that he knew Cliff would be seeing in his
own.
"You look awfully familiar," he said. "You ever been down to Florida?"
"Um, not in quite a while," Lang answered slowly as he began to realize
where their paths had crossed....
_____
That marketing seminar in Tallahassee, eight months ago. Lang had gone
to the queer bar next to the hotel. He was sitting at the bar nursing a
gin and tonic when this cute young man sat next to him. Had to be at
least twenty-one to be in here, but this guy's twenty-first birthday
couldn't have been too long ago. Must be a college student, Lang
surmised. Lang was twenty-three, and he felt like a dirty old man when
he lustily appraised the younger guy's lean, athletic physique,
displayed to its best advantage in a tight T-shirt and even tighter
jeans.
They sat next to one another for several minutes, not speaking, though
Lang sneaked glances at the college dude when he thought he wasn't
looking. Then, the guy tapped him on the arm.
"'Scuse me. I need to use the rest room. I'll buy you a drink if you
save my seat for me."
Lang agreed, saying no drink was necessary. He watched as the guy wove
his way through the growing crowd. Lang admired his firm ass in those
faded blue jeans.
When the younger man returned, they began a conversation. The young guy
was a junior who didn't come here much at all for fear his classmates
might find out. When Lang asked him if he wanted to dance, they
undulated on the dance floor together, their bodies getting closer and
closer. Lang embraced the guy and kissed him. The guy was resistant at
first, but soon opened his mouth to let Lang's tongue inside. They ended
up making out in a dark corner of the bar for some time before Lang
asked if the guy wanted to go back to his hotel room. He accepted the
invitation quickly, as if Lang might rescind it if he pondered it over
too long.
Their sex was urgent. The college guy was obviously inexperienced but
eager to please, trying to take as much of Lang's cock as his virgin
mouth would allow. Lang could feel the man's body shaking nervously as
he kissed and licked and nibbled every square inch of it. "Don't be
nervous. Just relax," Lang had said several times. Lang asked the
college guy if he could fuck him, and the guy said yes. Lang tried to be
gentle, but could tell that his young trick was unprepared for the
initial shock of having his ass invaded by Lang's stiff prick. He cried
out in pain as Lang buried his cock inside him. Still, he didn't ask
Lang to stop.
The student lay on his back, his feet resting on Lang's shoulders as
Lang rammed his dick through that tight hole. He stroked the guy's
swollen cock as he fucked him, and they came almost simultaneously.
And then their night together ended. The young man got dressed quickly,
saying he had to be up early the next morning. They parted with a brief
but probing kiss, their night together to become nothing more than a
fine faded memory....
_____
Until now, when it all came flooding back to Lang as that trick from his
past stood in his living room, his identity as his lover's brother
revealed. Neither of them had changed much in appearance. Cliff's hair
was shorter, and Lang had grown a goatee and mustache, but these changes
weren't enough to disguise the past they shared. Suddenly, pretending to
be Clem's roommate seemed the least of Lang's problems.
The first couple of days of Cliff's visit were uneventful. On the night
of Cliff's arrival, the two brothers stayed up late talking about old
times. The second day, Lang and Clem drove Cliff around Atlanta,
pointing out various clubs he might want to go to while he was in town.
Of course, Clem was only pointing out the straight clubs, but neither
Cliff nor Lang dared correct him. They went out to dinner, then returned
so the brothers could talk some more. Again, it was late when they all
went to bed. Clem and Lang managed to sneak a conversation while Cliff
was in the bathroom brushing his teeth.
"I'm really too tired to do anything tonight," Clem whispered. "Maybe
he'll do some club hopping during the week, give us some privacy."
Yet the next day, it was Lang and Cliff who got the privacy. Lang came
home from work to find a message on the machine from Clem, asking Lang
to call him at the office.
"What is it?" Lang asked when Clem picked up the phone.
"Look, I'm really sorry, but I've got to work late on this project if
it's going to be ready by deadline. Do you mind entertaining Cliff for
me?" Clem asked as if this would be a chore. "Um, no problem."
"Is he there?"
"No, I just walked in. He must be out or something." Just then, he heard
the bathroom door open. Cliff appeared in the living room wrapped only
in a towel. Lang immediately averted his eyes, focusing intently on the
end table.
"Well, I'll see you later this evening, probably around eight. You two
have fun. Love you."
This was Lang's cue to say, "Love you, too." But with Cliff standing
there, he said, "OK, see you tonight."
Lang looked over at Cliff, who was standing next to his luggage at the
opposite end of the sofa from where Lang sat. Cliff ran a comb through
his light brown hair — which seemed unnecessary, considering his hair
was clipped close to his skull, with only enough length on top to allow
for a few wisps to fall across his forehead.
"How's it goin'?" Cliff asked casually, seemingly unconcerned by Lang's
presence.
"Uh, OK. 'Fraid Cliff has got to work late, so it's just me. You want to
go out to dinner?" Lang was trying to act nonchalant, trying not to
stare. Cliff, however, was hard to ignore, especially when he was just
wearing a towel. Lang let his eyes drift from Cliff's face to his taut,
muscular chest, down to his compact torso, following the trail of silky,
brown hairs that started at his navel and disappeared beneath the towel.
"Sounds good," Cliff said, dropping his comb onto the coffee table.
"Where're we going?"
"Hmmm. You like Chinese?"
Cliff made a face. "How 'bout Mexican instead?" Lang agreed, though he
wasn't in the mood for Mexican. "Just give me a few minutes to get
dressed," Cliff said, pulling some clothes out of his suitcase.
And then, the towel came off. Lang looked away, but not without first
getting a good eyeful. Cliff's flaccid dick was about six inches long,
curving slightly to the left. His balls were nearly hairless, dangling
heavily between his legs. The sight, though brief, was enough to cause
Lang's own cock to stir within his pants. Standing up from the sofa, he
announced, "Well, I'll give you some privacy."
"Doesn't matter," Cliff said, stepping into a pair of olive green
boxers. "I've got nothing you haven't seen before."
Lang left the room, anyway, wondering if "nothing you haven't seen
before" was meant to be as suggestive as he was taking it. Was it a
fucking invitation?
Dinner went smoothly enough, though Lang felt nervous alone with Cliff.
Every time Clem's brother opened his mouth to speak, Lang expected him
to mention that night in Tallahassee. The topic didn't come up — until
they went to The Duke for drinks afterward.
"I think I remember where I met you," Cliff said as they settled into a
booth near the back of the dimly lit bar. He had an impish grin on his
face. "Do you?"
Lang's heart seized up in his chest. At first, he considered pretending
he didn't know what Cliff was talking about, but thought better of it.
"Yes," he answered softly. "That bar, next to the hotel I was staying
at."
Cliff's grin became a full smile. "You remembered!" Then, sounding a bit
panic-stricken, "You didn't tell my brother, did you?"
"Jesus Christ, no!"
A sigh of relief. "Good. He doesn't know about... what I am. I know I
should tell him, but every time I plan to do it, I chicken out."
"Well, he might be more accepting than you think," Lang offered.
"Does he know about you?"
"I think he has a good idea," Lang answered carefully. "We've never
discussed it, though."
They were silent for a moment. Then Cliff leaned forward. "So, when do
you think Clem's gonna get home?" he asked, his eyes brimming with
lascivious intentions.
Well, this is no longer the nervous closet case I deflowered less
than a year ago, Lang thought, feeling his face grow hot. Cliff was
coming on to him! This was unnerving enough. But even more unsettling
was that Lang found himself wrestling with temptation a bit more
strenuously than he'd expected.
"I'm glad you reminded me," Lang answered quickly, then he gulped down
his drink. "Cliff is going to be home any minute, and I'm sure he'll
want to see you. No need for me to monopolize all your time."
When they got back to the apartment, Clem was there, scarfing down a
microwave dinner. "You guys have fun?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah," Lang replied. "Dinner and some drinks afterward."
Cliff, who had grown quiet after Lang ignored his advance, excused
himself to use the bathroom.
"Tonight," Clem said with a wink when Cliff was out of the room.
Lang only offered a wan smile in reply, too preoccupied with Cliff to
get worked up over sex with Clem.
When Cliff came out of the bathroom, Clem did his best to persuade him
to experience Atlanta's nightlife, but Cliff was less than enthused.
"Maybe tomorrow," he said. "Think I'll just hang out here tonight."
The three of them stayed up until 11 o'clock. Clem was the first to
announce he was going to bed. Not trusting himself alone with Cliff,
Lang also excused himself.
In the privacy of "his" bedroom, Lang stripped and settled in beneath
the covers. He lay in bed reading a horror novel, wondering how long
Cliff would be awake. He was really getting horny — only Cliff, not
Clem, inspired his desire. His cock grew rock-hard as he remembered that
night in Tallahassee. Then, seeing Cliff naked earlier this evening.
Lang hoped Cliff went to sleep soon so Clem could sneak across the hall.
Lang was about to give up waiting for Clem when he heard a light tapping
at his door. It was nearly midnight. He hopped out from beneath the
covers, fluffed the pillows and arranged himself on the bed, naked and
ready for sex. "Come in," he said seductively.
The door opened. Only it wasn't his lover, Clem; it was his lover's
brother, Cliff.
"Oh, hi!" Lang said, trying to sound pleasantly surprised rather than
mortified. Quickly, he grabbed the bedspread and sheet and pulled it
over his naked body. "I was just getting ready to go to sleep," he
added, like this might obliterate the eyeful Cliff had got of his
hard-on.
Cliff stood at the foot of the bed. He wore only those olive green
boxers that Lang saw him stepping into earlier. Lang could tell by the
tent Cliff was pitching in his shorts that Clem's brother wasn't just
here to say good night. Finding Lang reclining naked on the bed did
little to discourage him.
"Hey," Cliff said sheepishly, looking at the floor, then up at Lang.
There was a partial grin on his face. "Couldn't sleep."
"There's some wine in the fridge," Lang suggested, his tone so
artificial it could cause cancer in lab rats. "Couple glasses should
relax you."
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