Page 6 of Party of Three

“Well,” Mateo whispered, stroking Buckley’s cock in the space between them. “We hooked up twice. The second time, it was just us, and it didn’t really pan out.” But Mateo’s eyes were downcast when he said the wordspan out, suggesting a night more complicated and painful than his word choice implied. “But the first time was…”

“What?”

“Better. A lot better.”

“Why?”

Mateo brought his lips to Buckley’s ear. “Because we shared a bottom,” he said.

Buckley shuddered, heard Mateo let out a grunt at the feel of slick pre-cum in his hand.

“You want me to keep going?” he asked.

“Yes. Tell me everything.”

Mateo was also ragingly hard. Buckley started stroking him inside the tent he’d made of his pajama pants.

“We went out clubbing in San Diego one night, and there was a little go-go boy who caught our eye. Jeff’s got hardcore daddy energy. I mean, he can make a twink drop their undies in ten seconds flat with one look. So the guy’s dancing over us for the rest of the night and we only tipped him once, but he’s still hanging out. When his shift ended, Jeff asked him if he wanted to come with us, and he said yes, so we took him back to our motel in Pacific Beach.”

Mateo’s voice was soft, gentle and sweet, like he was telling Buckley a naughty bedroom story.

Buckley pushed Mateo’s pajama pants down past his hips and began caressing his balls in time to the strokes he gave Mateo’s cock. With his free hand, Mateo gripped Buckley’s chin, pushing him gently backward across the kitchen floor, a slow salsa dance that ended when Buckley’s bare ass hit the table’s edge.

Maybe Mateo was making the story up, or embellishing it some, for Buckley’s smutty benefit. Either way, he didn’t care. Hell, he’d never been a pesky Mormon missionary in tight black pants, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love playing one face down on their living room sofa.

“What did you guys do to him?” Buckley asked in a breathless whisper.

“Second the door closed he hit his knees and started sucking our cocks. The whole two Marines at one time thing got him sohot he even sucked our dog tags. It was crazy. I’d only fooled around with a few guys, but Jeff was an expert. He taught me a lot of things that night.” Mateo stroked Buckley’s cock while giving him an open-mouthed kiss. “All the things I do to you I learned from Jeff.”

Buckley shuddered, worried suddenly he would blow right there. And that wouldn’t do because he wanted to hear the entire story.

It was like the picture of Mateo and Jeff hanging on their living room wall had come to life and taken them both back to a hot and sweaty motel room where the surf whispered outside, barely audible over the grunts and curses of men being very, very bad. The fantasy of his sweet Mateo, as buttoned-down and nervous about sex as when they’d first met, being guided in the ways of the bedroom by an experienced, confident older man was like liquid lust coursing through Buckley’s veins.

“Like what?”

“The rim parade, that was him,” Mateo answered. Buckley groaned. Therim paradewas Mateo’s nickname for the sequence of tongue strokes he’d first unleashed on Buckley’s hole to see which one gave him the most pleasure—he’d started with long and wide, then switched to mad flickers a few seconds later, before ending with slow, wet circles that had done Buckley in. And apparently it was Jeff Braxton’s nickname for it, not Mateo’s.

“Twisting your nipples until you can’t take it anymore.” Mateo spun Buckley around and bent him forward over the kitchen table, one hand on the back of his neck, throbbing cock pressed against Buckley’s hole. The strength of his erection told him that Mateo wasn’t faking this for Buckley’s benefit. This fantasy three-way was driving him wild as well. “It was my first time topping a guy. He gave me instructions.”

“Like what?”

Mateo pressed the head of his cock against Buckley’s hole. “Don’t rush.” Mateo replaced his cock with gently circling fingers before pressing the tip of one digit gently inside. “Warm him up, take your time.”

Mateo’s cock returned. He pressed it slowly inside Buckley’s hole, still yielding and slick from their laundry room lovemaking. A little raw, too, but the thin edge of pain it added to the slow and steady entrance of Mateo’s cock only turned Buckley on more.

“Watch the way he moves, his breaths, as you slowly slide your way in. Take your time to let him settle, adjust.” Mateo increased the rhythm of his thrusts. “Jesus,papi. You’re on fire,” he added in an awestruck whisper, like a man seeing the Sistine Chapel for the first time.

“Is this how you fucked him? Is this how you fucked that twink while Jeff watched?” Buckley sounded drunk with lust, face half pressed to the kitchen table. Maybe because for the first time Mateo was pulling a fantasy out of his deepest core and not the other way around.

“Exactly how. I wanted to make him proud.”

Mateo’s thrusts turned hard and forceful, then long and slow. Buckley could feel himself on the verge of boiling over.

“Where was Jeff?” Buckley asked breathlessly. “Where was your crew chief while you fucked that little go-go boy?”

Silence. Had he gone too far? He hated the thought, but Mateo hadn’t stopped fucking him, so maybe not.

Suddenly he felt pressure against his lips, foreign and strange. He parted them, opening his eyes to see one end of the zucchini Mateo had been chopping earlier press into his mouth. “Right here.”

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