Faced with few options to turns his grades around, Gage Houston was desperate to put his fate back into his own hands. The high school senior was failing his two least favorite courses. However, he planned to walk alongside his graduating classmates, no matter the cost. It was a good thing, Gage thought, that he’d put in the necessary hours to ensure he left his instructors, Mr. Berry and Mr. Honeycutt, impressed with his desire to bring his grades up.
Once Gage turned eighteen, back in mid-February, his social calendar filled up fast, which allowed him to hone the skills that would make him popular in some of the seedier bars outside of town. The teenager made sure to maintain a tight lid on his social engagements, as he wanted to keep this side of his life under wraps for the time being. In the case of his teachers, Gage wasn’t worried. He knew neither would risk his career to boast about a remarkable blowjob received from a failing student.
Mr. Honeycutt, Gage’s Algebra instructor, was an easy negotiation. For one round of oral sex, the instructor promised to update the student’s grade from a D to a B-minus. Though Gage was attracted to older men, he never shied away from a good-looking one. Mr. Honeycutt fit that bill in spades. The young teacher was a surfer type, not more than twenty-eight years old, with an auburn polish and wavy, bleach blond hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in years. He was tall, muscular, and wore clothing that fit so snug a person would half expect to hear the seams ripping when he passed.
They met after Mr. Honeycutt’s last period, in the young teacher’s locked classroom. As expected, the teacher’s dick was eleven-inches when fully erect, but Gage didn’t let that intimidate him. The student had gone to all of the trouble to convince the by-all-appearances-straight-instructor to enter into this situation, so he knew he had proved himself or the only thing he’d successfully blow is an opportunity for a better grade.
It wasn’t easy for the teenager to make his way down his teacher’s shaft, but after a few bobs, his nose was finally pressing against Mr. Honeycutt’s trimmed pubic hairs. More importantly, the instructor was moaning in a way that told Gage he’d be bringing his grades up too. Looking up toward his instructor, with his shirt wide open and revealing a tanned, athletic build covered in moderate hair, Gage wished he’d get a chance to sit on his cock.
Cum shot inside the young man’s mouth as the instructor attempted to steady his desk chair, which was rattling below his convulsing body. The force and volume were indicative of a man who badly needed to get off, Gage thought. There was no mess on Mr. Honeycutt’s pants or anywhere else; the teenager made sure to dispense of any evidence.
“We could do more,” Gage said, licking the side of his teacher’s glistening rod. “Whatever you want.”
“I’m married,” Mr. Honeycutt responded. The student had heard this before a few times and didn’t understand how that was crossing any more of a line, but he wouldn’t push it. Nor would he question the A-minus he was promised by the attractive young teacher before leaving the classroom.
Later that evening, after dinner with his mother and stepfather, Gage drove to the Mortimer Hotel, which was twenty miles north of his home. He told his parents he was going to hang out with friends for the evening, and then probably catch a movie. This gave the teenager enough of an alibi depending on how much time it took to increase his GPA with Mr. Berry. Gage worried the hotel would be dodgy, but his instructor selected a rendezvous point that could almost be described as upscale.
“I never do this,” the instructor assured as he pulled his student to the bed. The lack of nerves and hasty approach told Gage that this probably wasn’t the case, but he was there for a grade and not to examine the man’s moral compass.
“Me either,” Gage replied.
Mr. Berry was the type of man Gage fancied. The instructor was in his late thirties or early forties, with salt and pepper hair and a frame that loomed over Gage. His jaw was square and his features strong. If the man, who wore a perpetual glower, ever had boyish looks, they had long vanished. But this is what appealed to Gage. As many classmates as he’s been with in the last few months, his most memorable encounters were with more rugged types. The kind of man who effortlessly stood with purpose, upheld a constant sense of strength and quiet, and spoke in decisive terms without being superfluous. Based on outward appearances, Mr. Berry ticked off most of these boxes.
The man knew how to fuck. Gage’s body, which was 190 pounds of solid muscle, got tossed around the bed like a dog’s play toy as Mr. Berry made the teenager prove he was deserving of a B in Geology. While the instructor didn’t reference his marriage, there was a constant reminder during their lovemaking. Mr. Berry’s wedding ring was stroked across Gage’s body multiple times, pressed against the teenager’s wrist when the instructor held him tight, and it’s cold surface slid against the student’s face while they kissed. It was as though Mr. Berry got off on flaunting his marital status.
Gage didn’t expect the night to go as long as it did, but Mr. Berry’s endurance was not to be underestimated. The instructor banged his student on the bed, a desk chair, a loveseat, the floor, the room’s bay window, and finally in the shower as they cleaned themselves before sneaking back to their homes. The A grade Gage received ultimately brought his GPA up to a 3.7, and there was no worry about attending a summer session or missing the graduation ceremony.
Life was good.
At the end of the week, Gage returned home from school, and there was a noticeable funk in the air. His mother and stepfather, Rachel and Tanner Drake, were standing in the kitchen and attempting to change the subject to something banal, but their expressions could not mask that something weighed heavily on both of them. Rachel offered a weak smile to her son and asked about his day.
“Fine,” Gage replied. “What’s wrong?”
The husband and wife stared at each other, communicating in a silence that only longtime spouses or the best of friends can do. After a few nods and furrowed brows, Rachel turned to her son and said, “Honey, your father is finally going to be released from prison. Tanner and I have talked about it and, well, we agreed he could stay with us until he gets back on his feet.”
Brock Houston was imprisoned almost eighteen years ago after a string of burglaries and drug deals finally caught up with the man. Gage hadn’t yet learned to walk, nor had he spoken a word, when his father kissed his forehead for the last time. As a parent, the man made few attempts to be present in his child’s life prior to being locked away, and only endeavored to foster a relationship in the years that followed. It was Tanner, Brock’s close high school friend, who helped Rachel raise Gage from the age of two. If there was any animosity between the two men, it had been laid to rest years ago. Brock conceded that he was not the paternal type when he got Rachel pregnant, and he worried that he still was not. Regardless of this, it was important to him that he maintained a relationship with his son.
“Is that okay with you, Gage,” Tanner asked.
Gage sat his backpack on the ground and looked out the window. “How long?”
“That depends on him,” Rachel answered. “If it’s not okay, we can always—“
“No,” Gage replied. “It’s okay. It’s just, I don’t know, kind of weird.”
“It’s definitely unorthodox,” Rachel said. “And we probably wouldn’t have done this if you were younger, but your father needs us, and any bad feelings we had between us are… well, we’ve let them go.”
“For sure,” added Tanner.
It occurred to Gage that after a week with his father, he would have spent more time with the man than he had in his entire life. And that thought was almost too much to bear for the teenager. Before he could absorb the enormity of what was happening, he moved to the closest chair at the kitchen table, placed his face in his hands, and became an emotional wreck. His mother’s warm hands circled across his back, something she did whenever she tried to comfort him.
“I… I don’t even, um, know why…” Gage started.
“It’s a lot to process, honey,” Rachel said.
“You may have become a man, but he’s still your father,” added Tanner, also with his hand on Gage’s back. But there was something different about his stepfather’s touch. “It would be unusual to react any other way.”
“You know that doesn’t change how I feel about—“ Gage said to his stepfather.
“I’ve always considered you my boy, Gage,” Tanner replied, giving the teenager’s shoulder a squeeze. “Nothing will change that.”
“So when does he get out?” Gage asked.
“In two weeks,” Rachel answered.
Early the following Saturday morning, with just a week before Brock’s release from prison, Tanner came to Gage’s bedroom and sat on the edge of the teenager’s bed. “Hey… ‘sup?” the teenager asked.
“I was going to go for a swim,” Tanner said. “You want to come?”
“Sure,” Gage responded, stretching his long muscular arms from beneath his blankets. “Mom at work?”
“Sadly,” Tanner said. “She’s got a lot of casework to catch up on. She should be home in time for dinner. We were thinking about going to Café Lola tonight. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect,” Gage responded. “Give me five minutes.”
It was seven in the morning when Tanner and his stepson walked into the Aquatic Center and began their laps. This was a staple of Tanner’s regular workout, but it wasn’t often that he asked Gage to accompany him. The teenager figured his stepfather was merely trying to reaffirm that nothing would change once Brock was under their roof.
After thirty laps, Gage was too tired to go on and stepped out of the pool to rest and watch the other swimmers in and around it, each wearing nothing more than a revealing pair of speedos. As Tanner continued on like a machine, splashing from one end to another, Gage enjoyed the view from the bleachers beside the pool. He couldn’t help but give his cock a quick tug every now and again, wishing he and several of the men could enter the locker room and toss their inhibitions aside.
Tanner eventually climbed out of the pool and started walking over to Gage, when the teenager came to a realization: his stepfather was hot. Like, really hot. At thirty-nine years old, Tanner Drake had a fit, trim frame that was covered in sculpted muscles as a result of a disciplined workout regimen. The stepfather kept his athletic frame well groomed and smooth. The purpose was there. As was the strength and decisiveness. “How have I never noticed this?” Gage thought to himself.
“You finished?” Tanner asked.
“Yeah, I was just resting,” Gage replied.
“Everything but your eyes,” Tanner laughed, causing Gage to become flush. “I don’t blame you, kiddo. It’s like someone just dropped off a busload of male models. Ready?”
The two drove home, and for the first time in his life, Gage couldn’t stop thinking about his stepfather in a way that he had never done so before. He kept looking over at the man, who had placed short running shorts over his speedos but left plenty for Gage to ogle. And there was something about his manner at the pool. Was he being flirtatious?
“You okay?” Tanner asked.
“Hmmm… oh yeah,” Gage replied. “Fine.”
“That was a good workout,” Tanner replied, placing his hand on his stepson’s muscular thigh. He kept it there, which wasn’t abnormal for the man. Not until he started moving his hand in a circular motion, which caused a shot of electricity to run through Gage’s body.
“Yeah,” the teenager agreed.
The two stopped at a red light and the teenager, not taking the time to think things through, pulled his stepfather’s hand to his crotch. Tanner gripped his son’s hard on and then ran his hand across the ten-inch shaft. They looked into each other’s eyes. The lust was explicit and understood by both. A horn honked, alerting Tanner and Gage that the light was green. Indeed it was.