Things I like: Hair pulling. Nasty sex. Rough sex. Getting pissed on. Love a golden shower. I love getting choked. Slapped. Spit on. Spit in. Pushed. Pushed down. Held down. Did I mention getting choked?
He used to be like that.
Vick Kennedy was as sexy as his named sounded. I remember when I met him in the gym. Back then I was a bit on the heavy side. Hell, let’s just say it. I was fat. Working in an extremely high paid corporate advertisement sales jobs made it important to look the part. We lived in DC. The corporate men that got it were tall, slim and good looking. People like my best friend Jean. Jean was the one who paid for me to get a personal trainer. So, I end up going to the gym and I see him.
And there he was. Vick Kennedy. The sexiest man I’d ever met.
He was bald. I’d never been attracted to a bald person but this was different. He has a beard. The beard is shaped up to the point I think some mathematician has carved it with algebraic preciseness. Every hair is in place. I’ve never seen a beard flourish in the way his thick black beard flourished. He was clean as fuck. He’s in a skinny tank top with sweat shorts that hugged his thighs. I’d described him as beefy. Not one of those muscular guys that had a skinny waist. He was thick. Strong looking. Solid as fuck. No one’s thin male model. More like a football player straddling the line between thick and muscular. I saw both men and women checking him out. I strode into the gym and he looks me up and down without really seeming to care.
“Indigo?” he asks.
“That jawn is nice.”
I had no idea what he was saying back then. It wasn’t until later on that I’d find out that he was from Philly. I’d hear it several more times when he says “Yo, that jawn is decent!” when he is referring to my time on the treadmill. Then he’d start using other Philly terms that I had no idea what he was saying. He was rough around the edges. I wondered at first what street corner he was from. Jawn is an ESSENTIAL part of the Philadelphia vernacular. Jawn is used as a noun – a person, place, or thing. He was telling me my name was nice basically. By the time the day is over, I’d probably hear it a couple more times.
He had strange eyes — a clear, pale brown—-that didn’t really focus on me. It made me feel somewhat invisible as though I was just another fat kid he’d have to slap a Doritos away from during breaks. He was tall of course but not just tall….almost statuesque an old unmovable forest tree.
I nod, “Yeah. Vick.”
I remember how masculine he was thinking there was no way this guy could get down. I usually had the best gaydar but honestly, right now I had no way of telling. He had that deep voice, masculine walk, sturdy-build, broad shoulders and was high-boned.
It wasn’t until after three sessions that I start thinking he might dabble when I catch him looking at my ass when I’m on the elliptical or when he gets hard as I am bench pressing below him as he looks down making sure I’m not crushed by the heavy bar.
It isn’t until he gives me a compliment that same day that I make my move.
“You doing a good job,” he says in that deep sexy accent handing me a towel.
“I’m fat man. You don’t need to sugarcoat the shit, because I’d eat that too.”
He laughs, “You don’t need to lose a pound if you didn’t want to. You a fine boul either way.”
I had no idea what he was saying. I’d find out that boul was just another way of describing a male. I felt like a lame. He was clearly younger than me. I was 30 and I’d been concerned he wasn’t even 21. I’d find out later that he was actually 25 but at that point, I felt like I was robbing the cradle. He was so goddam sexy that I couldn’t help it though.
“You think I’m fine?” I ask.
Shut me down, why don’t you?
“…I think you damn fine,” he responds. That’s when he grunts giving me a teasing sneer and sexing me with his squinted eyes all while his hands run through his flourishing beard.
That’s when he goes on to say that if I don’t come out with him that night I’d be drawlin’. I guess that means acting out of character. Again, weird ass slang. But I thought he meant drawing so I told him that the only thing I knew how to draw were stick figures.
Well, long story short, later on, that night he showed me his stick figure. And let’s just say we been together ever since. That’s what important. Of course, there was a little time where I stalked him like a fucking psycho because I was addicted to the bomb dick, but we don’t have to go into much detail about that.
It’s also been a while since I’d gotten some bomb dick.
“Stop playing baby. I’m trying to drive…”
I’m his baby now. He’s my daddy. We got married 2 years ago. Even though it’s four years after we met and I’m clearly still very much older than him. He never called me weird for it. I’d lost some of the weight but not all of it. Vick refused to let me get too skinny. Said he liked his guys thick. It turned him on.
“Daddy, I warned you to pull over.”
I grab his 9-inch dick and let it flop out of my face.
“Just so you know, after I finish sucking your dick, I’m going to ride it,” I promise him.
He serves, finally taking my advice and pulling over. There are no cars around us anywhere. It’s the middle of the night and we are in the woods.
“Tell me when you’re close, so I can let you cum on my face,” I whisper to him as I go deeper down on his dick. He tries to push me off a little bit while looking around desperately to see that no one was coming. I deepthroat going as deep as possible and he lets out this deep sexy moan which seems to be confirmation that he’s giving in.
I let his dick hit the back of my throat. I push him with the tips of my fingers so that he knows that his only job is to sit back and cum as hard as he can. Before I know it his deep moaning is making me wet and my pants are sliding down just so low that my ass is exposed. I begin to finger myself as I slob down his dick.
“Smack me…” I’m telling him.
He socks me on the side of my face. I let out a quick yelp as I go down deeper onto his dick. I stop sucking up his shaft long enough to kiss his thighs. It is in short order while he’s looking down at me that he starts to cum.
I leave scratch marks on his thighs and in return, he leaves cum all around my lips as though he is painting my face. I guess he knew how to draw after all.
I look up at him scooping the nut in my mouth as he looks down, “I hope the taste of your cum stays in my mouth for the rest of the night, so I don’t forget about how good this felt.”
Things like that used to turn him on. Back then he would have pulled me out of the car, pushed me face down in the bushes and fucked me until I bled telling me things like “Take that dick and don’t look at me. That’s an order.” Shit like that would have turned me on. Shit like that is what the old Vick would have done.
This new Vick gives me a look.
It’s the strangest look. It’s a look that tells me he’s disgusted.
“You’re a dad now,” he tells me, “You can’t do things like that. What if we got arrested for indecent exposure. What if I—what if I swerved into oncoming traffic.”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“That’s not the point,” he tells me, “The point is that we can’t just keep worrying about ourselves anymore. You can’t keep acting like a…”
“Like a what?”
Vick shakes his head.
“Say it, Vick.”
“I said nevermind.”
“You don’t want me to keep acting like a freak.”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” he explains, “Let’s just be more careful, OK? I wasn’t going to call you a freak. I don’t look at you that way. You’re the father of my son.”
Maybe that was the problem.
Maybe the problem was that he didn’t look at me as a freak anymore.
The cabin is nice as hell. I have no doubt Jean booked it. Jean and I had met at work a while back. Jean was tall, good looking and just an overall catch honestly. We worked the same firm still. Jean was also incredibly bougie which made this location ideal for something like him.
“Can you try with…you know who…” he asks me as we walk through the door.
“Vick, you can’t force me to be friends with…”
My conversation with Vick is broken up by the same person we are discussing. The voice isn’t coming from Jean. It’s Skylar. Skylar happened to be Vicks’ annoying little brother. On paper Skylar and Vick had a lot in common—-they were around the same age, they were both into fitness, both were quite attractive—— but in person, it was a completely different thing. Skylar was loud, obnoxious and irritating. He was also surprisingly feminine. He didn’t look like it of course. He was very muscular. But when he opened his mouth all lady came out. The only one more opposite of Skylar than Vick is Skylar’s boyfriend Martin. Martin barely speaks. He’s into sports and has like four kids that Skylar is helping to raise. He treats Skylar like a goddam princess and I think Skylar has gotten used to it.
“Oh my god. You guys made it,” Skylar is saying in this high pitch valley girl voice, “I thought you weren’t going to make it. But you made it. We need to play some football and go kayaking and oh my god…Martin, did you bring the spades table like I told you to?”
We haven’t even walked in and we were in a bad mood from the argument earlier. Hearing Skylar talk in his loud valley girl voice is irritating. I’ve asked Vick a million times where his brother got the accent from when they both grew up in West Philadelphia. Vick swears the real Skylar must have been kidnapped by replaced by the spirit of a Kardashian. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
“Oh my god…Skylar take a deep breath and hold it…” Jean joins us, “For like 20 minutes.”
Jean says the things to Skylar that I couldn’t get away with being that he was my brother-in-law. It’s not like Skylar could tell that he was getting dissed. He laughs saying, “That’s impossible Jean!” as though Jean is saying a joke but I’m pretty sure he means it. The last time we had a movie night and watched Inglorious Bastards, the boy literally asked what Hitler is doing nowadays. He was dead serious too.
“Hey Thing 1,” I tell my best friend.
He smiles, “Hey Thing 2…”
He reaches over and smiles before whispering, “Thank god you came here. I was one ill-fitting glove away from going full OJ on Skylar…”
I don’t blame him. Skylar is literally attacking his brother right now asking him about our ride up. Vick looks like he wants to do anything but deal with Skylar at a time like this.
Vick mouths the words “Help me” when Skylar starts showing him pictures of Martin’s kids. Martin is standing there silently off to the side. He barely does anything but gives me and Vick quick hugs before returning back to his phone trying to get some sports game to pull up. Truthfully I think Vick would want nothing more than to join Martin with his endeavors. That is definitely more his speed.
I normally would help Vick with his brother but right now I’m pissed.
“Show me my room,” Vick states.
The cabin trip is normal for us. We do it yearly. We take multiple trips every year. It’s just our thing. This had to be one of the nicer ones. I know my best friend is going to make sure Vick and I at least got a better room than Skylar, which I appreciated immensely. When we get to the room Jean helps me unpack my stuff without even asking like he normally does. The guy knows how I like everything.
“Are we the last ones?”
“Louvell coming?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I told him about it like you did,” Jean tells me, helping me with my bags, “After Vegas, he hasn’t really been keeping in contact.”
Louvell was always on the trips with us. Louvell was an old friend of ours. The funny thing is I had met him through Jean but we all became rather close. Louvell was the more mature friend that we had. He was the designated driver when Jean and I wanted to turn up on the weekends. That was until our last Vegas trip.
“I don’t get what happened,” I explain, “I just remember passing out one night and Louvell was gone. He just left Vegas.”
“What do you think it could have been?” Jean asks.
I shrug, “Something must have pissed him off.”
I’m trying to remember what happened in Vegas. I remember I was way too drunk. I remember everyone else went out to have a good time. Ever since then I’d talk to Louvell one other time and he just seemed to be really awkward when it came to speaking to me like he had something to tell me but he wasn’t letting it out. I thought it was weird but I didn’t really bring it up.
“Well he’s single so maybe he didn’t want to come on a couple’s trip.”
“Bitch you single too.”
“Barely. I got a new boo. He’s taking a nap right now. That irky bitch Skylar wore him out with questions as though my baby was on Who wants to be a millionaire or some shit. I had to curse Skylar out. So now the new bay is asleep. You guys will get to meet him when he wakes up.”
I roll my eyes, “You got a new man for every trip we go to Jean.”
He sighs, “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m not trying to call you a hoe,” I say, “I’m just saying if your cakes have an access password it would be: password.”
He grunts taking one of my shirts and throwing it at me, “Just because you don’t get dick like that…”
Just as he says that I realize the door was slightly open. It opens all the way and in walks Vick. Fuck. I look over at how awkward it is knowing that Vick heard the comment that Jean just made. I shoot Jean a look. It’s one of those looks that tells him he just fucked up big time. Jean knows that look way too well because he literally does a moonwalk out of the room.
“I’ll go ahead and help Martin start barbequing,” Jean says.
Vick is just shaking his head as soon as Jean leaves the room. His look says it all.
“So you telling your best friend about our sex life?” he asks.
I’m dead wrong. I’m the type of dead wrong however where I don’t feel like I should be apologizing. The truth was the truth.
“Listen ever since we adopted Nevada things have not been the same.’
“So you think it’s OK to let Jean into our bedroom and what we are doing because we spend more time parenting than fucking?”
“It’s not about our sex life. It’s about our life period. Nevada has changed things…”
Nevada. Our 8-year-old son. We’d gotten him 2 years ago. He was the joy of our lives. The truth was though it was a lot more than I had ever expected. It wasn’t my idea to get Nevada. I never wanted kids. I was content with traveling the world maybe or just getting a dog or something. Nevada was completely Vick’s idea. Well, Vick and his god-awful overbearing mother who had pressured him into taking the next step to secure our marriage.
I was the breadwinner in our family making the real money while Vick spent time pursuing his ‘career’ in bodybuilding—-whatever the fuck that meant—-but still managed to not be able to fuck me when I needed it.
Things had changed.
“You regret Nevada?” he asks me.
A part of me knows he’s been wanting to ask me this for a while now. I have never shown it to Nevada. At least I never thought I showed my doubts to Nevada. For a while, it had bonded me and Vick in a way that nothing else would. But then it became overwhelming. It became all Vick worried about.
Then he started putting me on this pedestal I didn’t want to be put on. I was the son of his father so he wouldn’t choke me anymore. He wouldn’t deep fuck me like I wanted to. He started treating me like glass. I never wanted the pedestal. I wanted deep dick, goddamit.
He was my heart.
I shake my head, “Of course not. Listen. I’m wrong. I’m sorry. Let’s just make the best out of this couple’s trip. OK?”
I wait for the response. I wait for some sort of peacing out. The last thing I wanted on a couple’s trip was to be beefing with my lover. Instead of responding to me though Vick rubs on his beard. I know Vick does that when he isn’t feeling something. He does it when there is something that is on his mind. It can’t be something good either. He gives me a hard stare, opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, closes it back up and walks out of the room.
I hop in the shower and take a long hot bath specifically trying to soak all that drama out of my system. I spend time looking through my clothing for the next few minutes trying to find something to wear to dinner when I get a knock on the door.
I think it’s Vick coming back so I head to the door with nothing but my towel hanging from one hand dangling in front of Mr. Jimmy. Mr. Jimmy was the name of my dick. I felt every man should name his dick because half of the time it had a mind of its own.
“Vick can we talk—-”
I open the door. Problem with standing in the door basically naked talking to Vick was that Vick wasn’t the person behind the door. It’s this guy. He’s tall as hell…maybe 6’3”. He’s thin with this lean swimmer’s body. He flashes me a quick smile.
“Oh damn, my bad,” he states.
I quickly wrap the towel around my waist and blush from wondering how much the guy could have seen. He immediately bites on his lip. This guy seems to be cornering the market on juicy lips. I notice the brown of his skin as well. He seemed to have style standing there with his Supreme jacket and ripped up jeans. He’s sharp too with this slick temple fade that is tapered to line up his temples. The top of his head has so many waves that I think I get seasick. He’s fly as fuck and clearly not shy because he hasn’t turned away even for a second.
“You ain’t see shit, did you?” I ask.
He laughs, smirking showing off this deep dimple in the side of his cheek before shrugging, “Nothing at all…”
“…nothing much. Just your dick.”
“Relax man,” he states, “I’m joking. I’m Khyree. Jean sent me to let you know dinner was ready—-”
“You must be Jean’s date,” I realize.
He reaches his hand out at that moment, “You must be Indigo. Heard so much about you.”
I reach over and shake it looking up at him as he domes over me. He’s definitely Jean’s type. Tall, model looking guy that probably wanted to be an actor or singer or a model or something where he basically made money off his looks. I look down to see that Jean has on some Balenciaga sneakers. He has big feet. Definitely Jean’s type. He fits the 10 rule. Jean literally required that someone be at least be 5”10, at least a 10-foot shoe, 10 in the face, and a 10 in the pants to take someone seriously.
I had to admit even for Jean and his high standards this guy was a catch. That was saying a lot. But I just smoke and shake his hand. It was pointless remembering his name even. I’d give this guy 2 months max before Jean was onto another guy.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” I tell him.
He smiles at me. A warm smile friendly but damn near dazzling, “I’ll save you a seat.”
I get downstairs to see Vick and Martin having a conversation most likely about sports drinking beers. They were really close. You would think they were the brothers instead of Skylar. Speaking of Skylar he walks over to me almost immediately when he sees me coming down the steps. All you see is white teeth and all you smell is Bath and Body Works Cherry Blossom. Skylar smells like he bathed in the stuff.
“Finally down slowpoke,” he is telling me, “I got a partner in crime.”
“I’m so excited…” I state, forcing a smile.
I look over at Vick. How the hell did I always get stuck with his annoying ass little brother? I cross my arms and try to pretend like it doesn’t bother me.
“We have to catch up over some sparkling cider.”
“Sparkling cider, Skylar?” I ask, “How old are we like 8? I think we are legally old enough to drink.”
“I’m just concerned about you,” he states.
“Last time we were all together you got really drunk. Don’t you remember? I understand that it’s hard having those sorts of conditions—”
“You know. Alcoholism.”
“Nigga—EXCUSE me?” I ask.
“It’s OK,” Skylar states, “That’s what family is for. I made sure to tell everyone that if they really cared about you that this would be a dry trip. No alcoholic beverages at all. But guess who brought the non-alcoholic margarita mix!”
I open my mouth ready to tell Skylar to go fuck himself but luckily Vick seems to tell that shit is about to hit the fan and walks over there. They join us putting their hands on each other.
“You two getting along right?” Martin asks.
I take a deep breath, “Of course. As always.”
Vick nods, “Great. What do you guys think about Jean’s newest toy?”
Martin shrugs, “If he likes it, I love it.”
“He’s cute,” Skylar states, “Am I allowed to say that? Oh, my god, Martin was that offensive to you?”
Martin shrugs, “No, bae. It’s common sense. He is attractive, but then again did we expect anything less from Jean?”
The four of us look into the kitchen to see the new guy with his hands all over Jean. My best friend is giggling about something. I don’t think I ever saw Jean giggle. It’s really weird.
“All I’m saying is sooner or later he’s going to have to settle down,” Vick explains, “I don’t want Nevada growing up thinking it’s OK to hop around because he sees his Uncle doing it.”
I shoot Vick a glare, “Vick not now…”
I’m lucky I say it then because Jean and the new boo walk into the room to join us. Vick looks highly annoyed as he takes his seat at the table. I join them. This wasn’t the first time that Vick had an issue with Jean. Truthfully it was an issue before Nevada was around. Now he keeps saying Jean is going to be a bad example for Nevada but before he was complaining that Jean was going to be a bad influence on me. Sometimes I think Vick judges me. I met him when he was the younger less experienced guy and I was the one with their shit together. Since then he’s come up financially starting his own fitness business doing fitness videos and even selling merc. I guess now he feels like he has the independence he always wanted and he’s definitely expressing it by judging every aspect of my life…including my friends.
“Thank you guys for inviting me,” Khyree states, “Jean has told me so much about all of you guys. You really all mean a lot to him.”
“No doubt Steve. We try to do a trip every year,” Vick states.
“Oh shit,” Vick states, “Wrong guy…”
I elbow Vick. Steve was the guy Jean had brought over to have dinner with us two Sundays ago. Jean shoots Vick a stare. I think he feels that Vick did it on purpose but I honestly don’t really blame Vick. Jean does have a lot of guys in and out of his life.
“I need a drink…” Jean states.
“You brought alcohol?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Fuck yeah,” Jean reaches under the table and pulls up a bottle of Hennessy as though he’s pulling a rabbit out of the hat. I swear I could kiss him right now.
“Jean!” Skylar states, “We were supposed to be supporting Indy’s habits.”
“His name is Indigo, not Indy. That is a nickname between him and his husband. He doesn’t like you using it,” Jean puts Skylar on blasts, “Besides I’m supporting my friend, Indigo, by getting him laced the fuck up.”
Skylar looks irritated but we’re already drinking by now. It’s way too late… I can see him struggling to maintain control of the trip in common Skylar terms by getting up and making one of his grand announcements that no one gives a fuck about but possibly Martin. I say that loosely too because I think Martin’s way of dealing with Skylar is ignoring about 90 percent of the bullshit that came out of his mouth and just nodding in agreement.
“I made an itinerary for this weekend so we can all be prepared. I color coded everything so it makes sense. Also, I made sure to notate the timezone is not CPT. This is not colored people time—I’m looking at you Jean—-so please be prompt for…”
There is a knock on the door that breaks up Skylar’s speech that might as well been him jerking off to his own ego. We all look over at the door confused on what the hell is going on.
I’m the one who gets up.
“Anyone expecting someone?” I ask.
They shake their heads.
I walk over to the door confused at what’s happening. When I get to the door I open it and I’m shocked to see who is standing behind the door.
Seeing him at the door is almost like seeing a ghost. Louvell was never this super attractive guy like Jean. It wasn’t that he was ugly. He just carried himself differently. He had always been awkward and a little bit out of it. Not the kind of guy that other guys just dropped their panties for. Right now it wasn’t how he looked though. It was something else. The look of someone who hasn’t been getting any sleep. It’s the look of someone who had been a little stressed or something.
“We need to talk,” he whispers.
“Everything OK?” a voice calls out from behind me, “Bae you good?”
It’s Vick checking on me to make sure I’m OK. I turn at that moment and announce, “It’s just Louvell.”
I turn back to Louvell to see if he had something to say but I can tell he’s uncomfortable. He starts the thing where he gets to stuttering trying to get it out.
Then he randomly says, “Later.”
Louvell joins us at the table. Louvell was usually talkative. He usually had a lot to say. He was just a likable guy. He was the kind of guy that was always responsible. He always made sure Jean and I were taking care of. Everyone liked Louvell. It wasn’t normal for him to show up on one of the couple trips alone. That wasn’t what was making this weird. What made this weird is how uncomfortable he looks. He doesn’t eat when he joins us. He’s just sitting there.
“We missed you Louvell,” Skylar states.
Louvell doesn’t respond.
Jean adds in, “Haven’t seen you really since Vegas. You never got a chance to meet Khyree. Khyree this is—-”
“Not in the mood,” Louvell states.
This was definitely not Louvell. I feel bad for Khyree who just got shut down for no reason at all. Jean looks over at me trying to understand what the hell was happening with Louvell. I had no idea though. All I knew was that he was being really weird.
“Maybe we should give him some time,” I state, “And space.”
“We’ve given him enough time and space,” Jean answers back seeming annoyed, “I know I’m not the only one wondering what the hell is going on with my friend.
“Oh please,” he states, “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” Jean asks.
Louvell looks over at him, “I tried to stay out of it. It’s been driving me crazy what happened in Vegas. I think it’s about time it came out because I can’t hide it anymore. That’s why I came down here.”
Louvell looks over at me, “It’s about you Indigo. Something you need to know.”
Everyone looks confused. No one is as confused as me though.
“That night you passed out Indigo, I remember going to the Blackjack table alone. I came back to the room. It was really late. I remember you were asleep. Then I remember going to one of the other bedrooms. I remember hearing moans. It was from Jean’s room.”
“I don’t get what this has to do with me?” I ask.
Knowing Jean he’d found one of the local vegas boys or something. What the hell did that have to do with me?
“It’s because of who had sex. Vick fucked Jean in Vegas.”