WATCHING BRAD
Part 147
Part 147
By Friday night, I had completed all the honeymoon confirmations and had exchanged the cash I would take along. We would use credit cards for the most part, but it was always good to have some cash at hand. Brad, of course, was still trying to pry out of me where we were going, but all his efforts were for naught. He even threatened to cut me off from sex. Not that we had much energy or time to even have sex. In fact, we hadn't had it all week after that blowjob I received on Tuesday morning.
Something had happened that Tuesday morning which I'm still trying to figure out. Brad's attitude didn't change, but mine did. The things Brad had said to me finally sank in, especially that part where he said that he didn't know why he loved me either, and the fact that he couldn't understand why I would love him. I realized then that my thoughts and fears weren't my own, that he shared them as well. I realized that he was just as frightened that I would leave him for someone like Barry, mainly because Barry would be more comfortable to have sex with. The sex between Brad and I arose out of our love for each other, not the other way around as it might have been with Barry. For Barry, I felt only physical attraction. I loved him as a friend, but I didn't ‘love' him. What I did to prepare myself for Brad was done because I loved him, not because I wanted him to make love me. I didn't have to make Brad love me. He already did, and he would have continued to do so even if I were never able to take him sexually.
I realized that, if either of us was ever to blame for trying to break us apart, it was I. I was the one who had been tempted by Barry and I admit that freely. It is not a secret. The fact that I had asked Barry - practically begged him, in fact - to wear his new swimsuit for me just so I could see bulge his rolled-up cock made in them confirms that. I love Barry as a friend, but I certainly can't deny being seriously turned on by him. I've seen what he hides inside that swimsuit. I've seen what he does with it when he sees me. I've seen what Nathan gets to see and enjoy every day. I've even seen him have an orgasm. I can't deny wanting it. And I also can't deny that I have never had a problem understanding why Barry could jerk off looking at me and finding me sexually attractive. In fact, it flattered me to know that he did and served only to make me want him more. It wasn't until that Tuesday morning that I finally understood why Brad's attraction bothered me while Barry's attraction didn't. With Barry, it was the fact that I could turn him on. With Brad, it was the fear that he would leave me if he found another man who turned him on more than I did. Someone younger and more attractive. I didn't know what it was about me that could turn either of them on, but when I made the connection with Barry, my attitude toward Brad changed. I didn't have to understand the attraction to accept it.
I've often said that Brad could have anyone he wanted, and that was true. Other people had been after his cock for years, and he didn't have to do anything more that unzip his pants, whip it out, and he'd have guys crawling on their knees to get at it. But that wasn't what switched on the light in my brain. A guy like Brad could get blowjobs any time he wanted, and a lot of guys would bend over for him in a heartbeat. But I don't think any of those guys would ever have a chance at Brad's ass. Guys like Brad don't get fucked. Guys like Brad do all the fucking. The fact that Brad had offered his ass to me long before I was ready and able to offer mine to him told me something. He did it because he loved me. He did it to make me happy.
Yes, indeed. Something changed that Tuesday morning. The splatters of Brad's dried-up cum which still coated the carpet in front of the closet mirror was testament to that. Brad had wanted to clean it up immediately, but I wouldn't let him. I wanted it to stay there for awhile as a reminder to me, to tell me every time I looked at it that I excited Brad enough for him to have an orgasm simply by pleasing me. He didn't have to do a single thing to himself to cause it, and neither did I. I still wasn't entirely happy with my age or my body, but I accepted the fact that it was good enough for my Tiger.
I had often told myself over and over again that I wanted Brad to be with me forever. For the very first time, I honestly believed that it very-well might happen.
* * * * *
Jeremy's appointment with Dr. Blair on Wednesday afternoon came and went. X-rays were taken of his foot and examined meticulously with a magnifying glass. The doctors in the emergency room at the hospital had done a wonderful job and Dr. Blair could find nothing they had missed, but he noticed a small spot which gave him cause to think that there was still some lingering internal infection and prescribed another round of oral antibiotics for my son.
"If he isn't walking on it comfortably by Monday morning, make another appointment with me. Either way, continue to give him the full prescription whether or not he's walking on his heel."
* * * * *
I suppose it was only fair for Brad to keep a secret from me. After all, ever since our engagement, I had been keeping our honeymoon a secret from him. I suppose, had I been less caught up in the hectic wedding preparations and taking care of the family, I might have noticed that he actually had a secret to keep, but I was totally clueless. He'd worked late Tuesday and Wednesday at Mom and Dads, and was late getting home for supper on Thursday.
Thursday evening, before the twins went to bed, Dad phoned us and invited the kids out to the house for the weekend. The kids were only too eager to go. "Pack their swimming costumes," Dad told me. Dad was a good swimmer and, although Mom wasn't completely comfortable in the water, she could swim well enough if it was required of her. I had no concerns leaving them to watch over the children when they were in the pool.
"Bring them after you finish work, Theodore," Dad told me. "Mother will have dinner prepared for you."
Brad was waiting at home when I got there after work on Friday. Terry had been sent home and Brad had helped the kids pack their suitcases for the weekend. He'd even remembered Jeremy's prescription. Not surprising, since it had been Brad who had been administering it these past few days. He had it tucked inside the pocket of his T-shirt when I arrived home. It poked me in the chest when he grabbed me in his arms and hugged the heck out of me and kissed me.
"Everything's ready, Pops," he told me with a wide grin. "Go grab a quick shower and get changed. I'll start loading up the van."
By the time I was showered and dressed, everyone was waiting for me. As I locked up the house, Brad loaded the kids into the van. Minutes later, we were on our way.
Brad noticed my reaction when I pulled into the Dad's driveway and parked. "What's wrong?" he asked.
I looked into his eyes. I could see some mischievous there. "Doesn't look like you and Mark have made much progress on the garden," I accused him.
Brad simply smiled at me and gave me that beautiful chipped-tooth smile of his. "We had other things to do first," he said. "Come on."
By the time he got out of the van, the twins were already out of their car seats and waiting for the side door to open. Brad grabbed them out and set them on the ground and they immediately started off for the front door. "Hey!" Brad shouted as I opened the rear door to get the luggage. "Get back here and carry your own suitcases!"
"Aw, Brad," the twins whined.
"You're old enough to carry them by yourselves now," Brad continued, "so get your lazy little butts over here."
I looked around the back of the van and was about to mention to Brad that he was being a bit harsh with the boys, but he looked at me and told me with a smile and a wink that I should keep my mouth shut. I did.
Dad and Mom greeted us at the door, giving the kids their hugs and kisses, before allowing us inside. The twins, of course, dropped their suitcases in the entry hall and began to head for the kitchen, but Brad stopped them.
"Suitcases belong upstairs in your bedroom," he told them.
"Bra-a-a-a-ad!"
"Don't ‘Bra-a-a-a-ad' me," he warned them. "Upstairs. Now."
The boys grumbled to themselves, but did as they were told. I was still perplexed at Brad's attitude and the way he was ordering the twins around, but he tossed me another wink. Lindsay followed the boys upstairs, carrying her own suitcase.
I leaned into Brad and whispered, "Gee-sus, Murphy, Brad. What in hell are you doing?"
Brad was still looking up the stairs. "Wait for it," he said slowly and softly, his voice rising in pitch with each elongated word.
I didn't have to wait long.
"Daddy!!"
The twins' scream startled me and I reacted accordingly. With sheer and utter panic. I practically stumbled up the stairs as I cleared the steps three at a time. My heart was pounding in my chest as I tore into the twins' bedroom. They were standing at the window, their sister standing beside them, and staring down at the back yard. I quickly stepped up behind them, putting my hands on their shoulders. I was breathing hard and fast, but it caught in my throat when I saw what they were looking at.
The boys looked up at me. "Daddy," Justin said, his voice soft and filled with amazement. "Look."
I looked, and then I squatted down and grabbed the twins in my arms. "Come on," I said to them "Let's go outside and see it."
Lindsay followed us out of the room and down the stairs. Brad and Mom and Dad were waiting for us at the bottom. Brad reached out his arms to Jeremy, who went to him without hesitation.
"Come," Dad said, a wide and happy smile on his face as he led us toward the back door. "There is time before dinner is ready for my grandchildren to inaugurate it."
We stepped out the back door and crossed the yard to the right of the swimming pool, heading for the two large maple trees. A nine-by-three metre patch of sod beneath them had been removed and a shallow pit dug out, then filled with fine playground sand. Standing there in the shade, rising out of the sand on thick, wooden stilts, was an enormous play centre.
The floor of the main clubhouse stood almost two metres off the ground and had a solid cedar ramp angled up to the open doorway. Artificial ‘rocks' attached to the ramp offered foot- and handholds for the more adventurous climbers. An attached, knotted nylon climbing rope gave yet more assistance to the less adventurous. A wooden ladder rose from the ground behind the ramp to a trapdoor in the floor above for those who preferred the easy route. To the right of the open doorway was a small arched window carved into the wall beneath which stood a small activity table. There was a peaked and shingled roof on top, open at the front and back to allow the children to look over the wall.
The back wall of the fort was solid wood and painted on the inside with chalkboard paint, but the right side opened to a plastic ‘wave' slide which curved to the front of the fort. Another opening to the left side gave access to a set of monkey bars - a horizontal ladder from which the children could swing from rung to rung, hand over hand, to reach a wooden ladder to the ground on the other end.
Dangling from the monkey bars frame were two belt swings and a glider swing upon which two children could sit back-to-back. The play centre was a full seven metres wide and almost two metres deep. The peak of the roof easily stood four metres off the ground.
We set the twins on the ground and they headed for the rock wall ramp. Justin went first, showing Jeremy the way. Jeremy followed his brother up the ramp, pulling himself up using the rope. Lindsay headed for one of the swings. The boys soon reached the clubhouse floor and, moments later, two very happy and grinning little faces peeked out at us through the arched window, screaming with excitement and calling out to us. Seconds later, Justin came sliding down the slide, squealing with delight as he came. Jeremy followed him down. Then up the ramp and down the slide again.
When they tired of that, they headed for the glider which hung by four chains attached to the handles rather than double central bars like their swing set at home. It confused them at first, but only for a moment as they figured out that they were to sit on it backwards. The handles and the footrests were solid plastic and, as soon as Justin figured out that you got on as you would mount a pony, he was soon in his seat and Jeremy was sitting behind him. Before long, they were gliding high into the air, back and forth, and screaming in happy hysterics.
We watched them playing for a few minutes before Mom put her hand on my arm. "I'm going in to serve dinner, Teddy," she said. "Bring them in soon. They can play again after we eat."
Mom returned to the house as I looked at Brad. "No wonder Mom doesn't have a garden out front yet."
"Surprise," Brad said, his grin wide and proud. "Mark and I met your Dad at Canadian Tire on Tuesday at noon. He bought it and we brought it home in my truck."
Dad took over the story. "I measured out the sand pit and painted the pattern on the grass and marked where the six poles would go whilst Bradley and Mark began removing sod. They dug out the pit and the holes on Wednesday and chopped out the larger roots of the trees which might cause injury if the children were to fall. I called in two friends on Wednesday evening and we assembled what we could until it became dark. Bradley and Mark continued construction yesterday along with one of my friends and we took over again in the evening. Two of us worked on the frame whilst the other shingled the roof."
"The sand was delivered this morning," Brad said excitedly. "We finished assembly this afternoon, then we worked our asses off pouring Quikcrete around the stilts and hauling sand to get it all ready for tonight. Poor Mark. His hands are full of blisters, but he kept at it until we were finished."
"He was paid adequately for his efforts," Dad assured me. "I expect the lad is either languishing in a hot bath at this moment or is fast asleep in his bed."
I hugged Dad then, holding him for a long time and gripping him tightly in my arms. "Thanks, Dad," I said.
"It is our pleasure, my Sonskyn," Dad replied, patting my back with one hand. "It is worth the effort to hear and to see the joy in my grandchildren. This alone makes moving here well worth while. I shall enjoy many hours of watching them play."
Brad got a bigger, harder hug from me.
* * * * *
We left for home after Brad and I put the twins to bed, promising them that we would be back to get them on Sunday. They promised to be careful and good and to do whatever Ouma and Oupa told them to do, and they promised to stay near the shallow end of the pool. Dad had also bought pool noodles and attachments and Brad and Mark had made a number of colourful, neon rings for the kids. Mom and Dad promised to keep a close eye on them. A very close eye.
As we rode home into the setting sun, Brad put his hand on my thigh. Very high on my thigh to be more precise. In fact, it was so high that he could tickle my right testicle with his baby finger.
"Brad? What are you doing?"
I could see him turn his head to look at me, so I gave him a quick glance and was met with a beaming and rather mischievous grin. "Just letting you know I'm still here."
I looked back to the road, chuckling. "You don't have to tickle my nuts to let my know you're here."
"Want me to stop?" he asked.
I gave his question some deep and serious thought - but only for about a second. "No," I replied.
Brad didn't stop. "Barry and Nathan are in Toronto tonight, right?"
"As far as I know," I replied. "Dinner and a movie. Why?"
"Let's go skinny dipping when it gets dark."
"Are you nuts!?" I laughed. "Right out there in the open!?"
"Aw, come on, Pops," Brad teased. "Live a little. Who's going to see us? Mrs. Simm?"
"Or your parents," I reminded him.
"Yeah, right. When was the last time you saw them wandering around our back yard?"
"It could happen."
"So could whacking off on the stone wall together or giving me a blowjob in the hot tub."
"Okay, you got me there," I said in resignation. "But I was younger then."
Brad squeezed my thing light-heartedly. "Gee-sus, Murphy, Pops. You're so uptight it's a wonder your asshole doesn't squeak."
I couldn't help myself. I had to laugh out loud at that one. When I finally calmed down enough to speak, I did. "I'm not uptight. I'm cautions."
"You're boring, Pops. We've got the whole house to ourselves. No-one is around to bug us. Come on. Live a little."
Brad was making jokes about it, but I could tell that he was entirely serious.
"What's the matter?" he asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Don't you want to see me naked?"
"You know I love seeing you naked, Brad, but. . ." I suddenly realized that I didn't have a ‘but'.
"Come on, Ted," Brad said more seriously and softly, squeezing my thigh again with his strong fingers as he did so. "There's no-one else in the world tonight. Just you and me. I want to be alone with you and I want us to be naked. And I want to go skinny dipping."
When I didn't respond right away, Brad added, "I'll give you a little show if you do." My head whipped around to face him. "Just pretend you're looking through my bedroom window."
A bolt of electrical excitement shot into my groin and my cock responded accordingly. Brad's hand slid off my thigh and onto my crotch, pressing against my stiffening cock.
"Does that mean yes?"
I smiled. "It doesn't mean I'm hungry for cake and ice cream."
Brad gently squeezed my cock, then leaned across the console and kissed me on the cheek. "How many times can I tell you that I love you before you get sick of hearing it?"
"I don't think I'll ever get sick of hearing it."
Brad let me hear it one more time.
* * * * *
Brad wouldn't even let me wrap a towel around my waist when we ran outside and across the yard to the pool. I stood naked inside the patio doors, holding the towels in my hand and gathering my courage. Brad's courage was already gathered and he stood there beside me, his cock already rock hard and standing out from his crotch. It bounced slightly as he shifted about, but always returned to its resting position, virtually horizontal to the floor, but angled slightly upward.
As he moved in front of me in order to put his hands on my waist, trying to calm me and to give me a bit of his courage, his cockhead met with my lower belly and slid upward to come to rest at the base of my rib cage. There was nothing sexual in the move. He didn't do it intentionally just so he could rub himself against me. It simply happened because it must. I certainly didn't object to its contact with my body. I was quite used to it. There was very little chance of the two of us being in close proximity without coming into contact with it. To me, his cock had become as common and acceptable as his hand on my shoulder or his lips on my cheek. There was also the fact that I rarely made a big deal of it, or even acknowledged it for that matter. It was a part of Brad that came with the territory, and I think that Brad was so comfortable with me because I was comfortable with him. He's a very sexual creature and his whole life could have revolved around that magnificent cock of his, but Brad's life wasn't all about sex. Truth be told, I'm certain Brad didn't get as much sex as he might want, but he was very content with what he got and he enjoyed those moments when they presented themselves. He never complained and rarely asked for more.
As we stood there, I saw a little boy in the dazzling, green eyes when I stared into his face. They were full of fun and mischief, much like that of a little boy who was going to run through the neighbourhood knocking on doors and hiding himself in the hedgerows when the homeowners answered his knock. I saw a little boy who was going to put a thumb tack on the teacher's chair. I saw a little boy who was going to tie his brother's shoelaces together.
Brad was everything I was afraid to be. He wanted to do so many things which I was terrified to do. There was so much little boy in those eyes that night, belying the man to whom they belonged, and, that night, the little boy eyes with the big man's body wanted to go streaking in our back yard.
"Are you ready, Pops?" he asked, his chipped-tooth grin taunting me.
"I'll never be ready for this, Tiger."
"You're not going to crap out on me now, are you?"
I remained silent and stood there trying to swallow my fear.
The look in Brad's eyes became suddenly adult and the grin disappeared. "If you really don't want to do this, Ted, we won't."
A new look came into Brad's eyes then. It looked like concern. Brad was worried about me. As much as he wanted to do this with me, he was just as concerned that I didn't want to. But it wasn't so much that I didn't want to as it was that I was scared to death to do it. This was something Brad wanted to do, and we were in this relationship together. There was no more ‘me'. There was only ‘us', and if there was going to continue being an ‘us', I had to swallow my pride and do things I didn't want to do.
And, suddenly, I remembered that day a year ago when Brad slipped his hand into mine for the first time, riding in the elevator up the CN Tower. He had gone somewhere he didn't want to go. He had done something he didn't want to do. He had done it because I wanted him to, and he stuck to it.
I slipped my hand between my skin and Brad's palm, grasping his hand tightly in my own. Brad smiled as if he understood what I was thinking and quietly opened the patio door.
* * * * *
Brad's talent as a masturbator is unsurpassed. Unlike most other guys, myself included, who simply masturbate with the sole intention of causing an orgasm, Brad masturbates to make love to himself. Every movement, every touch, and every sound has a purpose. He doesn't do anything just for the sake of doing it. Everything he does to himself makes love to himself a little bit more. A touch of his fingertip to a nipple, pressing into it, swirling around it, or tweaking it when he brings his thumb into play. A lick of his lips with his tongue. A press of his palm on his skin. Cradling his balls in his hand, teasing them with his fingers. There is no urgency in what he does. There is only the happy feelings he gives himself when he does them.
He knows precisely how high or how low his right hand should move over his shaft. He knows precisely how tight he must grip it. He knows when to touch the smooth, inflated head of his cock, when to trace the expanded ridge with a fingertip, when to run that same fingertip over the slit at its tip. He knows when to bend himself over to do with his tongue what he could do with his finger, and he knows when his mouth must do more. There is a purpose in everything.
We sat there, side-by-side, on the edge of the swimming pool. The air was what I would consider ‘sultry' - warm, humid, not much of a cooling breeze. The moon darted out from time to time, peeking at us through the clouds as they floated above, allowing me to see the beauty that is Brad. He had promised me a show and I sat in awe watching a performance which was only for me. Did I feel left out by not being involved? Not in the least. Brad's performances were exciting and intoxicating. They grabbed my attention and they held it fast. They made me forget the world around me. In those moments, there was only Brad.
Except for my left arm around his back and my side pressed against his, there was no other contact between us. Still, I knew exactly what Brad felt when he stroked his cock or held his balls in his hand. I knew what he tasted when he bent himself over to place his lips around his flesh. I knew everything that he did because I had done it many, many times before.
The minutes ticked by in the darkness and the silence of the night, and still Brad worked to please not only himself, but me as well. Several times he brought himself to the brink of orgasm before he stopped himself and squeezed it back, groaning a tiger growl in his efforts to do so, and then he would begin again. His hands and his fingers, his lips and his tongue, continued their practiced play, bringing him closer and closer until, finally, he spoke the first word since he had begun. "Now," he whispered silently.
He bent himself over one last time and sucked the head of his cock into his mouth. A moment later, his cheeks exploded with the first blast of semen which pumped out of his cock and back into him again. The tiger growl returned as his body quivered and shook with his climax. Over and over again, he swallowed his cream, allowing some to escape his lips and to flow in thick streams down his shaft where it sparkled and glistened in the moonlight. The sound of the breath being sucked into his lungs through his nostrils tore through the silence of the night. And on it went. I knew very well the amount of semen Brad was shooting into his mouth. I knew the texture and the taste. I knew the heat and the scent. I knew how it felt when it hit the top of his mouth. I knew how it would flow on his tongue and I knew what it was like to feel it sliding down his throat and into his stomach. I knew it all, and I was the only one.
I could see his cock swelling and contracting in his hand as it pumped out each blast of cream and I knew what his hand was feeling. His orgasm seemed to go on for hours, but it was, in fact, only a matter of a minute or so. Finally, it was over and Brad sat up again, releasing his cock from between his lips with a wet slurp. His chest was heaving and his breath was coming in rapid bursts through his open mouth. A mixture of his sperm and saliva dribbled over his lip and onto his chin and I leaned forward to tenderly lick it away before bending myself over so I could lick his cock clean of the streams he had allowed to escape. When I was certain I had collected it all on my tongue, I moved my lips up his shaft and over head, allowing my jaw to open as I sucked first the head and then the entire shaft into my mouth and throat. Already, Brad's cock was beginning to shrink and grow softer, and I held him there until I was certain he was completely cleaned of every single drop of semen there was to be obtained.
When I was finished and sitting up beside him once again, Brad turned his head to kiss me, and, as he did so, he stood up to move between my legs. With his hands on my upper thighs, supporting himself against me, he broke the kiss and knelt before me as his arms fell to the outside of my legs and suctioned my cock into his mouth where his own cock had been only moments earlier.
My orgasm was quick to arrive and Brad made it every bit as powerful and enjoyable for me as his had been for him. He took everything I had to offer and didn't object when I grabbed his hair and held on in fear that I would fall over backwards if I didn't. People like Brad should be selfish in their orgasms, forgetting their partner when they were finished. But not Brad. When he sucked me like that, he didn't suck age or size - he sucked me, and I was the most important thing in the world to him at that moment.
He held me in his mouth long after my orgasm was over, keeping me there until I had grown completely soft inside him. Only then did he release me, and only then did I let go of his hair. Without a word, he stood up once more, bending over me and blocking out the moonlight with his body as he kissed me long and hard and passionately. And then, with very little effort and a great deal of tenderness, he stepped to one side as his left arm came around my back and the other arm slid carefully under my legs. He didn't even strain as he lifted me easily into his arms and stood erect in the pool. I wrapped my arms around him as he kissed me again, and then he stepped out of the pool and carried me into the house, locking up as we went, and into bed, leaving two neglected towels lying on the ground near the pool.
To Be Continued
