The New Guy In My House 04: Pool Time (Patreon)

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Chapter 4: Pool Time

My family came back over the day after Thanksgiving for what we call "leftover lunch," a tradition where everybody picks at the same food reheated and nobody admits it tastes better the second day. Afterward everyone has to take something home, whatever Mom presses into their hands at the door. Bran and I had to help clean the house and then try to act normal during everything while the taboo thing between us pulled our dicks toward each other like magnetism.

And Bran was everywhere. He had a quick recharge rate, fully reloaded an hour after emptying himself, and he aimed every bit of that energy at me. Each pass through the kitchen he brushed against me. Every time I looked up from my plate he was already looking. I even got a foot on my balls just as I was mid bite, his naive attempt at footsie, going straight for the nuts, which I kind of liked. 

And my balls still ached from not unloading that morning after the ruined finish the night before. They were heavy and full, and for the first time in my life I actually felt them with every heartbeat. There was some brand new rush of feelings riding on top of the ache.

And I was quietly desperate. What I wanted was simple, but insane. I wanted to pick up Bran. He weighed nothing. I had basically bench-pressed him once already. On my face. And I wanted to pin his light little body against the nearest wall and fuck him right through all the boring family small talk. Aunts, uncles, Ken, my mom, the whole room could watch, and I wouldn't care. 

I almost thought I was hallucinating when Bran bent over right in front of me to pick up a serving spoon somebody had dropped, and his shirt rode up in the back while his pants shifted, and I saw the waistband of his underwear. I narrowed my eyes at the grey cotton, sitting above his jeans against that pale strip of skin. The fabric was blotched lighter in patches where obvious cum stains had dried into it. It was my underwear, the pair we had ruined together. But then I grimaced. 

That pair was nasty, probably crusty enough to stand on its own, and he had pulled it on to eat reheated stuffing with the family. My jaw actually dropped. He straightened up slowly, tugged his shirt down, and carried the spoon to the sink. He glanced back at me, and saw my face, and the back of his neck turned pink when he realized exactly what he had just shown me.

After that I was useless in conversation. Flashes of my dick in his mouth kept appearing across my brain, his watering eyes, the string of spit still connecting us, the warm stripes of his white juice he had left on me, my balls resting on his forehead while he ate out my ass. And I would surface from one of them and find somebody at the table waiting on an answer to some question I had been asked. 

My uncle leaned back in his chair with his plate balanced on one knee, wiry gray hairs sticking up out of his collar, and asked me what I liked best about school, mentioning that Cornell had been in the news recently. I had not read any news in days. I had been busy getting my ass eaten by the new boy in my house.

"I believe the women," I said as a reflex, not even sure if that was in the ballpark of what he was talking about.

He paused with his fork in the air. "I was talking about the hockey team."

"Them too," I said.

My uncle made a face and nodded like I had said something profound, and across the kitchen I heard Bran choke quietly on his water. We made eye contact, and shared a smile.

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Ken checked his watch in the middle of something my uncle was saying. "Bran, don't you have a shift at the pool today?"

"Oh shit, I do," Bran said.

"Language," Ken said flatly, and turned right back to my uncle.

Bran looked at me from across the kitchen and held it a second, and we had a little telepathy. We did not want to be split up, not right now. He looked at me almost longingly over his plate, and my dick jumped in my jeans. Maybe I was about to get some alone time with him.

"I'll go too," I said. "I'll swim some laps."

"What a lovely idea," my mom said. "You can drive him so he doesn't have to walk. I love seeing you boys getting close."

I changed quickly in my room, and dug his underwear out of my bag, the white pair with dark blue trim I had taken off his floor. They were two sizes too small for me. I pulled them on anyway, working them up my thighs until the elastic bit into my hips. The cotton stretched thin over my gym-built ass, nearly see-through, and the back rode up until it sat almost like a thong. My heavy balls barely fit in the pouch, cupped warmly, still throbbing with every heartbeat. I turned once in front of the mirror, decided nobody would know but me, and pulled my speedo on over them. That's how small these underwear were on me, I could fit the whole suit on over them. I threw shorts on over that and headed back down.

Bran was waiting by the front door, spinning his lanyard around one finger, red lifeguard shorts already on under his hoodie. We got in the car and pulled out for the short drive, and his underwear pinched into my hips every time I shifted my foot between the pedals.

"I'm so fucking horny," I said out loud as I put a hand on his thigh.

He didn't answer right away. Pink blushing climbed up the back of his neck and into his ears, and he looked out his window at nothing. This was the same kid who smelled my armpits like a maniac in the dark. Maybe it was different for him out in public.

"Sorry," I said, pulling my hand back slowly.

"No," he said. "It's hot. I just hate getting a boner in public."

"I get that," I chuckled. "Until college I wouldn't even talk about boners with my friends. But my freshman roommate and I ended up making it a whole, funny... thing."

He looked over at me, and his eyes dropped to my lap and climbed back up, like he was checking whether I was telling him the full version of that story or not.

"Well, I've done more than talk about it with friends," he said, right as I turned into the pool parking lot.

I wanted the rest of that sentence badly. Before I could ask about it, somebody shouted through the open window of the guard room.

"Bran! You're late!" Some tall blonde dude hung halfway out of it, blonde hair sticking up.

"No I'm not," Bran said, smiling back at him. He unbuckled, hopped out before I even had the car in park, and jogged across the lot to the lifeguard room on his skinny legs, and I sat there with his waistband biting into me and my balls still throbbing with every heartbeat.

I started swimming laps while Bran sat in the tower in his red shorts, both of us acting normal for a pool full of strangers. The water helped my aching genitals. And it gave my hands something to do. But on every flip turn, in that half second underwater, I caught a glimpse of him up on the stand, whistle resting against his lips, watching me and nothing else in that pool. I wondered if the other swimmers were safe today. But then again, a bunch of athletic swimmers in a pool are not likely drowners. My boy was getting paid to sit around.

A guy slid into my lane at one point between my sets, the same tall blonde dude who had yelled out of the guard room window. Up close he was lanky in a built way, long arms, flat stomach, and he pushed off the wall and matched me stroke for stroke for a lap before we both stopped at the shallow end to breathe.

"You came with Bran, right?" he said, pulling his goggles up onto his forehead. 

"Yeah," I said, "You go to school with him?" 

"Yeah," he said, "I'm Tommy."

I introduced myself as he hauled himself halfway out of the water to grab a kickboard off the deck, and his bright red speedo turned out to be pretty revealing. A fat bulge pushed out the front of it, and behind that he had a big bubble butt perched high on his tall, thin frame, round like some thot girl, or maybe just a much thicker dude. He was tall, fit, AND his speedo was filled out on both sides. I think he noticed as I eyed him unashamed, taking in the visual with a nod of respect.

"Water polo," he said when he caught me looking. "It builds the legs," he said as he pushed off the wall for another set. I followed him quickly, trying not to lose the burn I had going.

“So be honest,” he said at one point between sets, casually hooking his elbows back over the pool gutter, like we had known each other for years. “Cornell girls. Any hotties among all the nerds?”

I smiled. It felt weirdly normal to talk about girls after the last couple days. 

“Both, definitely," I said. "There was this girl on my floor freshman year who studied in the common room in a sports bra, like, every night.”

“Shut up.”

“I swear. I failed a quiz because I just... didn't study. All I did was spank it thinking about her on the other side of my door.”

"Did you ever talk to her?"

"Yeah. She was actually only into girls."

He laughed at that, head tipped back against the deck. He was a guy I would normally be a little jealous of. Tall and fit, lean without being skinny, every muscle defined under the wet skin, with cheekbones that were honestly intimidating, even to other guys. His blonde hair spiked up on its own as it dried, even in the pool, good genetics. And the fat bulges filling out both sides of that red speedo only added to his list of assets. I started thinking about those toxic male looks influencers. They would love this dude. Or hate him. He mogged. Water polo had clearly been good to him.

And I caught myself studying his form mid lap, the long reach of his stroke, his high, round butt breaking the surface on every kick, and halfway down the pool I almost felt guilty for thinking about it. I glanced up at the tower, where Bran sat with his whistle resting against his lips, and I wondered if he would be jealous, and of which one of us.

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Bran had the closing shift, so I swam until the pool emptied and floated around while he stacked kickboards and herded the last people out the gate. By the time he snapped the lock shut, the whole place belonged to us, nothing but the pump hum and my wet feet slapping toward the locker room.

I peeled the speedo down and his underwear appeared underneath it, the white pair with the dark blue trim, soaked through and stretched nearly transparent across me. He stared with his mouth open. My dick and balls and even my pubes were fully visible through the wet, white fabric.

"You wore those all day?" he asked, and his body physically shuddered.

"Fair's fair," I said, and worked them down my thighs too.

Those showers are one open room of tile, no glass, no curtains. I turned the water hot and stood under it facing him.

"You can look this time," I said, and the tile echoed it back at us, as my body rattled. "I'm so fucking ready to cum, dude."

He did better than look. He dropped his red shorts, already hard, kicked them toward the bench, and knelt directly on the wet tile in front of me, and the spray flattened his curls while he took me in his mouth. 

"Not too public for you?" I asked.

"Nuh-uh," he grumbled with me still in his mouth, his eyes looking up at me for a second.

He worked slowly, taking his time, and I could feel the energy that had built in him all day, the tension dissipating out of him. He pulled off to breathe, and sank back down deeper with each pass, his grip snug at the base exactly how I had asked him to do it in my old bed. 

A day of ball ache rolled up out of me and I tugged his hair in warning, and he stayed on me, humming, and I finished completely for the first time since he had moved into my life, long heavy pulses into his warm mouth, nothing ruined, nothing wasted on the air. My knees nearly buckled on the last one. He swallowed what he could and tipped his face up into the spray for the rest, grinning like he had just heard good news.

I stayed hard. I pulled him up by the arm and turned him toward the wall, and he braced his hands flat on the tile without a word and arched his pale back for me. I spread his bouncy little round globes apart with my thumbs, spit on him, and worked a finger against his pink ring until he quit clenching and started pushing back. It didn't take long until his breathing was high and ragged, echoing off the walls.

"Are you gonna..." he started. 

I tried not to overthink it. I pressed into him as an answer to what he was about to ask. I wrapped a tight arm around him and felt him groan from deep in his skinny chest. I felt his body give around me a little at a time, tight heat and the stretch of it, his whole body opening up. I held his hips and sank in while he panted against the tile.

"You're actually fucking me," he said in a high voice, and I just grunted in response.

I had barely found a rhythm when flip flops smacked the concrete behind us.

Tommy stood at the entrance with a towel over his shoulder, blonde hair still dripping.

I stepped back so fast that the sound of the running water shifted noticeably over us. I grabbed the soap, and scrubbed my chest, turned mostly away from the unlikely intruder while Bran did the same. We were obvious, but our best bet was still nonchalance. Bran faced the showerhead and washed his hair with tremendous focus, but both our dicks were hard enough to hang a towel on, and I honestly felt like we were cooked.

"Huh," Tommy said as he approached the shower heads. "Do you guys need a minute?"

"Shut up," Bran said, but his face didn't show the shame I expected. He was almost grinning. 

Tommy smirked and took a shower not far from us. He dropped his speedo and the big sausage plopped out, moving with its own inertia as he stepped into the water.

“You don’t have to stop on my account,” he said, scrubbing shampoo into his blonde hair, like he walked in on this every shift. "Or actually, yeah you do."

I chuckled. Bran smiled a little. 

"At least I got to cum before we got interrupted this time," I said. 

"My turn to have blue balls," Bran groaned, grabbing his nuts.

Tommy laughed. "I knew it."

He grabbed his own dick and swung it around like a helicopter. 

I narrowed my eyes, glancing at Tommy's oversized boy hog, then back at Bran, who was now wiggling his own hips back and forth.

"How well do you know each other..."

"We were, uh... pretty close for a bit. Us and a group of guys."

"Oh yeah?" I said. "Did you play a sport together?"

They both chuckled on either side of me at the same time. "Um..." Tommy said, "If gooning is a sport, I guess."