Seeing is  . . . Fucking Unbelievable!



It was early afternoon when Trent pulled into the Matthews’ driveway. He immediately noticed the silver Lexus with California plates parked beside Blaine’s truck.

“How much you wanna bet that beauty belongs to good ole Uncle Dan?”

Blaine had told him a while back about his father’s former lover coming for a visit. The man had arrived earlier in the week, but Trent had yet to meet him. To say he was curious as all get out was an understatement.

What was the dude like? For some reason he couldn’t see Sean Matthews hooking up with a guy who was the classic ‘limp wrist’ fag, and yet, according to Blaine, ‘Uncle Dan’ was one hundred percent, no doubt about it, gay. Men only for him.

Trent looked toward the house while mentally kicking himself about his preconceived ideas concerning homosexuals. Blaine was one hundred percent gay and masculine as hell. The teen grinned. He’d most certainly explored every inch of his boyfriend’s muscular frame and had yet to find anything that could be classified as limp.

“Man, I wonder who tops and who bottoms?” Trent tried hard to picture Mr. Matthews making out with the man he recalled seeing in a picture Blaine had shown him years ago. The dude was a tad shorter than Sean, wore wire-rimmed glasses and looked somewhat like an older Colin Farrell. He wasn’t exactly handsome like Blaine but did possess what he would call a geeky-type sexiness about him.

The image of the two men fucking took shape inside his mind. Trent contemplated the illicit vision for several minutes and groaned when a certain muscle below his belt began showing interest. He quickly changed mental gears.

“Do you think ole Uncle Dan will let me pick his brain?” Trent asked aloud. “Give me some real ‘been there, done that’ advice about men loving men?” He slipped a hand between his legs and rubbed his softening dick. “The more I know, the better boyfriend I’ll be.”

Exiting his truck he glanced once again at the unfamiliar car and couldn’t help but heave a frustrated sigh. The Lexus was one fine piece of Japanese engineering and only served to draw attention to the pitiful condition of his own vehicle. Rusted and dented to the max, the ten year-old Mazda truck had been a gift from his dad. It looked like shit, but, fortunately, got him where he needed to go, and that’s what was important, he kept reminding himself every time he cranked the obstinate engine.

Reaching through the jammed passenger window, he collected the package he had brought with him and headed toward the house. He was halfway there when he heard his name called.

“Hey, Trent! Over here.”

Looking in the direction of Blaine’s voice, he saw the older teen waving at him from the window of their treehouse. He jogged over to the giant oak and hustled up the new ladder they had installed right after school let out for summer vacation.

“What’cha doing up here?” Trent asked. “Thought we were gonna watch the race on TV.” Setting his gift for Blaine on the floor, he scrambled through the open doorway. “Dad says Kenney’s the odds on favorite to win.”

Blaine met him at the entrance and kissed him thoroughly before answering. “AC’s out,” he explained, “and the house is hot as hell. Figured the treehouse would be the coolest place to hang for the day.” Blaine pointed to the far corner of the wooden structure. “Dad helped me rig an extension cord so that we could watch the race up here.” He shared a grin with Trent. “Whatever you do, don’t say a word to Angel. I snagged the TV from her room, and you know how territorial she is about her stuff. She’d probably kill me if she knew.”

“Speaking of your sister, where is she?” Trent looked toward the house. “She’s working on a project for me.”

“What project would that be?” Blaine yanked his t-shirt off and wiped the sweat from his face. Instead of putting it back on, he tossed the garment over to where the TV rested on an overturned milk crate.

“Uh, uh, uh.” Trent made the locking key motion in front of his mouth. “Lips are sealed, Budman. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Strolling over to the TV, Trent noted the ice cooler and the two lawn chairs that sat in front of it. “So, where is Angel?”

Blaine followed right behind him, kissing the back of his neck the second he was close enough to do so. “Mom and the girls have fled to the mall, leaving us poor men folk to suffer in this god awful heat.”

Chuckling, Trent copied his boyfriend and stripped off his shirt. “Wimps.” He tossed the well-worn LSU jersey aside before returning to where he had dropped his package. “Here,” he said, holding out the box to Blaine. “Thought you might like to take this with you when you leave for college next week.”

Trent wouldn’t admit it, but he was still scared shitless about his boyfriend attending college out of state. Yes, Blaine had declared he loved him and proudly wore the ring given to him two months ago. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Blaine; it was everybody else that he didn’t trust -- specifically every girl and boy attending the University of Alabama.

Trent shook his head. He knew the answer to his problem. Faith. He had to have faith. And no matter what his fucking brain kept telling his chicken-shit heart, he would just have to trust in their love, pure and simple. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to call Blaine on a regular basis, like every day, maybe? That, along with frequent emails and webcam dates, might keep him from freaking out between visits home.

Rubbing his forehead, he slammed the lid on his insecurities and concentrated on the package Blaine was ripping open.

“Shit, Trent,” Blaine exclaimed, taking a seat on the nearest lawn chair. “What’d you do? Raid the family photo albums for every pic ever taken of you and me?”

Page after page of photos was closely examined, and Trent felt his good mood restored when Blaine fell out laughing.

“Man, does this bring back some memories.” The high school graduate held up one particular photo that showed the two of them whitewater rafting in Colorado. “Remember that trip?” Blaine chuckled. “I can still hear the sissy way you screamed when the raft went over that mini-waterfall.”

Trent echoed Blaine’s laughter. “Hell, you know I can’t swim worth crap. I seriously thought we were goners.”

Blaine slipped the photo back into its protective sleeve. “It took me forever to get you to let go of the rope. Talk about white knuckles.”

“Hey, the guide said hold fast.” Trent punched Blaine on the arm. “I was only following instructions.”

“Uh huh.” Blaine flipped through several more pages, and Trent knew the moment his boyfriend found the surprise tucked at the back of the album.


Reaching a hand over Blaine’s broad shoulder, Trent tapped the photo his boyfriend was staring at open-mouthed. “If I was you, I’d probably keep this one out of sight. It might stir up some trouble.”

“No shit, Einstein.” With a hand that was visibly shaking, Blaine freed the picture in question. “Nude? You posed nude?” He turned in his seat and pinned Trent with a glare that screamed jealously. “Who the hell took this picture?”

Trent blushed. “Don’t get your briefs in a wad. I snapped it myself.”

When hit with the idea of putting together a photo album, Trent had gone straight to Blaine’s dad and borrowed the man’s new digital camera. It had taken him hours to get the lighting, his bedroom, the pose as near perfect as he could make it. The photo of him sprawled naked on his bed hadn’t turned out half bad, especially considering he was a complete amateur.

“Ummm, in case you’re interested, there’s a flip side,” he huskily informed his boyfriend.

Blaine looked up at him, his eyes growing even wider. “A flip side? Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“Turn the page and see for yourself.”

Blaine cautiously slid one finger along the edge of the page. He did it so slowly it was almost as if the mere act of turning the page would set the entire album on fire. “Fuck me stupid!” he exclaimed once he did.

Blaine blinked rapidly for a full five seconds. Tearing his gaze away from the photo, he stared at Trent, his blue eyes huge with utter amazement. “Is that a string of anal beads coming out your ass?” Blaine looked back at the picture. “Where in the hell did you get your hands on something like that?”

“Same store I got the butt plug at.” Trent took the photo out of Blaine’s hand and shoved it inside its sleeve. Closing the album shut, he carefully placed it back in the box. “Budman, you would not believe the shit they carry at that store. Nipple clamps, cockrings, vibrators, dildos of *all* shapes and sizes. Not to mention tons of other weird stuff.”

Trent hunted for the top to the box. “I mean, if you want to get kinky, and I’m hoping that maybe in the near future we might consider trying out a couple of those items, that’s definitely the place to--- umph!”

Locating the missing top flew right out of his mind when a ravenous mouth latched onto his. Within seconds Blaine had him pinned to the wall that was next to the window.

Muttering something about measuring a certain someone for a cockring, the older teen attacked the zipper of Trent’s jeans. “Do you have any idea how fucking horny I am right now?” Blaine asked. “Seeing those naked pictures of you, those anal beads you crammed up your ass . . . Jesus, Trent, it almost made me cream my shorts.”

“Too bad you couldn’t have been there in person to help me,” Trent said with a naughty smirk. “Bet you would have creamed your jeans for sure.”

Blaine shoved his hand inside Trent’s open jeans and took hold of his dick. “Damn it, Trent,” he growled. “Are you trying to drive me insane?”

“Is it working?” Trent flipped the two of them around and went to work on Blaine’s denim cut-offs. A guttural sound caused him to look up.

Chest heaving, Blaine was clinging to the leather straps still nailed to sides of the window frame. He stood with his legs spread wide, the stance pulling his shorts tight across his groin, leaving absolutely no breathing room for his raging hard-on.

Trent was glued to the awesome sight of his boyfriend’s arousal when another hungry sound drew his attention upward. He immediately started hyperventilating when he saw Blaine’s eyes. They were as blue as the summer sky behind him and as blazing hot as the sun. Hell, they nearly gave him third degree burns when their heated gaze dropped to the open crotch of his jeans.

“Get ‘em off,” Blaine hoarsely demanded.

Trent wasted no time in obeying. His jeans and underwear flew through the air, and he didn’t care where the fuckers landed.

“Mine. Get my shorts off.”

Trent took hold of Blaine’s shorts and yanked them down his muscular thighs. He got as far as the knees when all of a sudden he forgot what he was doing.

“Oh, fuck! You’re . . . you’re . . .” Jerking the shorts off, Trent slipped between Blaine’s thighs and shoved his high-flying dick against the older boy’s crotch.

Blaine was wearing the g-string he had given him for graduation. The cherry-colored silk not only looked good but felt fucking fantastic against his dick. He continued to hump the miniscule piece of silk while making a mental note to buy himself his own g-string just as soon as he saved up enough money.

“Promise . . .” Trent licked the sweat off Blaine’s upper lip. “Promise me you’ll wear this on a regular basis once you get to school. Thinking of you wearing it . . . oh god . . . it’ll be so fucking hot.”

Humping just as furiously as his boyfriend, Blaine grabbed Trent’s ass. “Whatever.”

Trent grinned. “Getting a little impatient, are we?” Frantic fingers gripped his dick and balls, causing him to swear. “Shit!”

“In me,” Blaine demanded. “Now.”

Trent answered with a kiss that devoured their air supply. Tearing his mouth free, he panted, “Need some lube, a condom.”

Blaine, who had somehow gotten the g-string off while they were kissing, tossed the scrap of fabric in the direction of the ice cooler. “Ov . . . over there.”

“Tell me you didn’t put the lube on ice, Budman?” Trent yelped when his ass was rudely pinched. Rubbing his abused tushie, he stumbled over to the igloo and discovered the requested supplies piled beside it. “Why do I have the feeling you had something besides watching the race planned for this afternoon?” He chuckled when he saw the pile of condom wrappers. Collecting them all, he held the foil wrappers up for Blaine to see. “Five? What? Two for you, three for me?”


“Maybe all five are for me?” Trent smirked. “Mr. Fantastic is certainly up for the challenge, especially considering the mega dose of vitamins I took this morning.” Snagging the lube, he swaggered over to where his boyfriend was impatiently waiting. “What about it, Blaine? Want to go five rounds with my bad boy?”

Blaine twisted around and mooned him. “Five, five hundred, five thousand. Fuck me already!”

Trent lost his breath when he caught sight of the rosy pucker winking at him. Immediately the article about rimming he’d read last night while masturbating in bed snagged his brain, and for a second he wondered if it was something he could do. Blaine had already confessed he would like to try it, but Trent wasn’t so sure. Assholes were okay for fucking but to actually put his mouth there? Ick, major ick.

“What the hell are you doing? Drawing a picture?”

Trent tucked the thought of rimming away for later and plastered himself to Blaine’s back. “Just admiring the scenery, Budman.”

“Fuck now. Admire later,” Blaine ordered.

Leaning his chin on one broad shoulder, Trent glanced through the window at his boyfriend’s house. “Race is on in ten minutes. Think we can . . . HOLY CRAP!”

Openly staring, Trent directed Blaine’s attention to what was going on in the house. “Do you fucking see what I see?”

“What the hell?” Blaine exclaimed.

Trent wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s naked chest and held him tight. “Man, I can’t believe what I’m looking at. Talk about an eye-opener.”

The two of them stared at the house below. All windows were open and all shades pulled, allowing the maximum flow of air through the large dwelling. It also provided the boys with a clear shot at the master bedroom and the two people inside. From where they stood, they could easily see Blaine’s father. Sean was naked and standing with his hands braced on the dresser behind him. Kneeling at his feet was another man, equally naked, his head moving back and forth.

Trent was trying to figure out something to say when the stranger stopped what he was doing and rocked back on his heels. He remained absolutely still for a good thirty seconds before enthusiastically attacking the erection that pointed straight at him.

“Shit!” Trent couldn’t help it; he openly gawked at the monster dick he’d glimpsed riding high between Sean Matthew’s muscular thighs . ‘Un-fucking-believable,’ he thought. ‘I’m watching my boyfriend’s father get a blowjob.’

“I take it that’s your Uncle Dan?” Trent asked once he was able to coax his eyeballs back inside his skull. “Damn, the dude must be starving. Look at the way he’s eating your dad’s dick.”

Trent inhaled sharply when his right hand was yanked down to a rock-solid rod that matched the one being voraciously blown by the owner of the high-priced Lexus.

“Blaine?” Trent looked up at his boyfriend and saw that he had his eyes scrunched tightly shut and was gnawing on his bottom lip. If it hadn’t been for the way his hand was being furiously humped, he would have sworn Blaine was totally embarrassed by what he had seen.

“Seeing your dad go at it with that man . . . it’s got you all hot and bothered, doesn’t it?” he asked incredulously.

With a groan, Blaine rested his head back on the shoulder behind him. “I shouldn’t . . . It’s wrong for me . . . how Dad could . . . Trent, please.”

Trent knew what his boyfriend was pleading for. He quickly prepped the both of them and slid inside Blaine’s ass with one powerful shove. The older boy hissed in pain but kept him from pulling out by reaching back and grabbing the cheeks of his ass.

“Okay, baby,” Trent said. “I get the message.”

Sucking on the side of Blaine’s neck, he got busy distracting his boyfriend from the unbelievable scene playing out below. “Gonna love you so good, Budman,” he declared.

“Please, yes, so good.”

Trent chuckled at Blaine’s mumblings. Seconds later his laughter mutated into a groan. Blaine’s ass was incredibly tight and hot and clutching at his dick like it never wanted to let go. He knew he wouldn’t last long, and his endurance was threatened even more when both his hands were taken hostage.

“Touch me,” was whispered in his ear.

Trent did as instructed. He stroked, squeezed, scraped with his nails the dribbling dick slapping the underside of Blaine’s belly. It wasn’t enough.

“More. My nuts, my tits. Touch all of me.”

Wishing he had at least ten more hands, Trent went on the attack. He kept one hand north of the border, tugging and twisting Blaine’s pierced nipples while fondling everything he could reach down south. When he felt his boyfriend’s balls draw tight, he couldn’t help but take a peek at the occupants in the house below. What he saw had him thrusting for all he was worth.

“Look, Blaine. You gotta look,” he instructed hoarsely.

Trent distantly heard Blaine growl his name and couldn’t decide if it was because his boyfriend had gotten a glimpse at the way his dad’s dick was pistoning in and out of his former lover’s ass or because his own ass was being ridden in the same manner. When unbearable heat seized his balls, Trent suddenly didn’t care what exactly was driving Blaine crazy. All he could think about was shooting his load.

“Come . . . coming, Budman,” he managed to warn through clenched teeth.

Unmistakable groans of completion made their way through the air and were clearly heard by both Trent and Blaine. The two boys echoed those sounds an instant later.

Blaine was the first to collapse to his knees, and when he did so, Trent’s dick slipped out of his hole with an audible pop. Bracing his hands on the floor, the older teen struggled to breathe. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered in between breaths.

Trent shucked off the semen-filled condom and tossed it aside before collapsing down beside his boyfriend. Spooning in behind Blaine, he licked a long line up the boy’s spine and once he reached his neck, reapplied his mouth to the hickey he had given him earlier.

“That’s one down, four to go,” Trent jokingly said. “Think the old guys are up for another round?”

Blaine didn’t answer. Instead he got to his feet, pulling Trent to his once he was standing. Silently, he guided the two of them over to the TV and took a seat in the largest of the two lawn chairs. Spreading his legs, he looked up at Trent. “Come here,” he whispered.

Realizing his boyfriend wasn’t quite ready to discuss his father’s shocking behavior, Trent dropped to his knees. He was promptly pulled forward and hugged. The top of his head, his forehead, his eyes and finally his mouth were treated to countless feather-light kisses. Wanting more, he moved closer and moaned when both their groins and chests made contact. God, he loved being naked with Blaine. He absolutely loved cuddling next to him and feeling the heat that radiated off the boy’s larger frame.

Dammit, Trent cursed silently, he was so going to miss this.

As if reading his mind, Blaine tilted his head up and kissed him hard. “I’ll come home as often as I can afford to do so,” he promised solemnly.

This time it was Trent’s turn at silent communication. He burrowed his head against Blaine’s chest and squeezed as hard as he could. Time passed while he once again fought with his insecurities. Finally he loosened his rib-crushing hold and took comfort in the fingers threading soothingly through his hair. A long, shuddering sigh slipped free when those same fingers slid up and down his back. “Love you,” he mumbled to the spot where Blaine’s heart beat.

After several minutes his boyfriend’s voice teased his ear. “How ‘bout we turn the race on?” Blaine asked. “See if your dad’s prediction comes true?”

Dismissing the lawn chair next to him, Trent turned around and settled down between his boyfriend’s open legs. He hooked an arm over each thigh and hugged them close. “Ready when you are, Budman.”

Using the remote control, Blaine clicked the television on, and soon both were caught up in the race.

An hour or so later Trent was reaching for a soda when he heard an unfamiliar male voice scream, “SEAN! FUCK, YES! SEAN!” He looked up at Blaine but not a word passed between them. The older teen cleared his throat several times, then increased the volume on the TV.

Grinning, Trent turned back to the race and, after a moment, kissed the hand that tenderly caressed the side of his face. When a second yell, louder than the first, drifted up to them, he choked back his laughter.

‘Man,’ he thought, ‘what a fucking soap opera this would make.’

End of chapter 15