This fictional tale is intended for readers over the age of 18. Sigh.
Okay, I can't help it Jude has to be heard. He stomps around if he isn't. Trust me.
I am at a place where I have to write the middle of the story now. So, I suspect for a couple of weeks I might manage 1 or two updates a week at best. I am very excited about the feedback I have gotten and it worked as I had hoped. I am excited to finish the story!
Thank you all,
Chapter 3 Jude
I hope that one day you'll come to realize,
How perfect you are when seen through my eyes.
- Ashley Borden -
I was already in college when Aunt Ellen, Mom, brought Jude home. I was about to graduate from the Academy and be deployed and I went home for Christmas. He had only been out of the hospital eight weeks then. He was fragile. He had the room we transformed into the boys room back then. He was a tiny little thing then, and hardly spoke to me. He weighed nothing and still couldn't maneuver his wheelchair he was so weak. Loud noises made him jump, and he slept with his lights on. I remember the huge incisions on his thigh, and his stomach. I remember helping him in the bathroom and he kept his eyes anywhere but on me.
He went inside of himself, so afraid of me I was awestruck by the way he held himself so still. I remember kissing his cheek and telling him, "Hey Andy, we are family now kiddo, Troy and you are my little brothers. Big brothers always look out for little brothers." And his arms went around my neck as I lifted him out of the tub. He was thirteen but looked eight. Troy was seventeen and had been in the house for a year. He was a little shit, but he treated Andy great so I put up with his smoking and skipping school.
Andy never got into trouble. He missed almost a year of school but still managed to graduate from High School on time. As he got older I thought I would get uncomfortable about his sexuality. But, my best friend Matt came home for the summer one year and announced, "It would be weird if Andy wasn't gay, it's like it is just right somehow." He shrugged it off. If Matt, the all American jock, wasn't disturbed by it, I sure as hell wasn't. Andy is really gay. He giggles, and squeals. He "tsks," at the boys, and while he isn't flamboyant, he is effeminate. His clothes are always neat and clean, and he irons his t-shirts. The way they cling to his lightly muscled chest is ... well fuck, it looks good on him.
Yeah, I have had my share of male sexual encounters. I am in the fucking Navy. I know exactly what he is talking about, gay guys and blowjobs. Cocksucker. I've used the word and it shames me now. I like to think that the few guys who have expressed an interest and the fewer still, like two, who have sucked my cock, wanted it and weren't emotionally attached to me. Maybe I like to think it was good for them because for me it was hot and satisfying. The two best blowjobs I have ever had and they weren't earth shattering. In Manila I even watched as a friend and fellow sailor fucked one another when we were wasted in a brothel. They did it on a dare, but they were into it. I was into it. Because I was married it was the closest thing to sex I got that week.
I want to say last night happened because I haven't had sex in months. I want to write it off as stress induced. But, I keep seeing his face, when he told me he was going to cum. The shock, the need stamped there, the emotion, and I fucking get hard. I wanted to see him cum for me. For me. I wanted to see him let go of that one last bit of resistance to me and lose his mind for me. And when I pushed my finger inside of him, and his eyes flared open so wide in shock and his voice erupted, and he screamed into me, I was fucking so aroused it pushed me over the edge. I have never cum fully clothed and without a hand or a mouth or a pussy wrapped around my dick for a long stroking time. I came so hard my dick hurt two hours later it was throbbing, as I lay in bed unable to sleep.
That orgasm has been building for days, but my affection for Andy has been building for years. It was two days ago that it struck me, with savage masculine satisfaction, that he was mine in some very critical ways. He took care of me Friday morning. When I got out of bed, and he saw me naked and bolted from the room, I nearly chased him down. It was instinct. And then I looked around.
The house was clean. There were fresh towels in the cupboard and food for the boys. He'd mopped the bathroom and scrubbed the changing table and taken out the trash. It looked like any other morning before Kelly left. Except, there was no Kelly. She had confessed everything to me over the phone in a rage, and as morning came I saw my home in an entirely new light. I saw my sons, whom I adore. I saw the emptiness of Mom's room. I saw the evidence of Andy's strength everywhere I looked. He had neatly laid the mail on my desk, cleaned up the dishes, taken out the trash. I sat down to pay the bills and make some phone calls and the receipt from the cleaners stared up at me. He can't drive, so he was having the laundry delivered.
Where the hell was Kelly? He was doing the dishes at night. I knew that. But everything else? He even brought home some groceries on his bike. He never said a word. Kelly never said a word. There was a grocery list on the refrigerator, and it had his handwriting on it. Just his. Always his. When had it gone from Mom to Andy? And the boys, when he was putting Ethan down for bed the other night, my son had been completely natural in his arms. He had deftly changed him and clothed him for bed. And there was no doubt it was faster and more efficiently than I was able to do. In my minds eye I saw him doing this many times, as he had been since before they could walk!
Andy had been my wife's stand in. He was my son's nanny, my houseboy, and Mom's caregiver. I was staring at my neatly folded underwear and realizing it was Andy who put them in the drawer, and my dick got hard. Bam, just like that. I closed my eyes and saw him naked, yelling in the bathroom, soap running down his back over his tight round little bare ass. I had really looked at him. His butt was pale, his cock was pink and long, the head narrow and it looked too big for his body. I wanted to touch him, to lift his dick up and cup his soft balls in my hand and feel what he felt like. He didn't have any body hair to speak of. The hair under his arm was fine. He was blond all over; even his pubic hair was light. And there wasn't any chest hair or hair on his ass, and almost no hair on his thighs. He was sleek and soft looking. My fingers itched to touch his ass.
Apparently, I wasn't the only one to notice his dick, however. Here I am two days after my wife leaves and my mother dies, and my best friend and I are drinking beer in the dining room talking about my foster cousin's big ass dick.
"I was staring at it because ...hell, he has a big dick!" Matt blushed. "It was like, OUT TO HERE!" He gestured. We laughed. "I mean fuck, what does a gay guy need with a dick that...don't answer that. Fuck," He drank from his beer.
"He didn't seem to notice he was naked til you mentioned it. He was madder than I have ever seen him." I smiled, it made me feel good, Andy was mad for me, "and I wanted to shake him for being so I dunno, afraid of me."
"You scared the hell out of him! What are you talking about? He ran out of there laving a trail of water all the way up the stairs. I mean the poor kid, he must have been miserable in high school gym if his dick gets hard around any old guys." We both laughed and then looked at each other.
"It wasn't hard around just any guys, it was us."
"You." Matt replied. "You, it was hard when I came up the stairs. Cut glass hard."
"Shut up!" I laughed, " He has never, I have never... that was just a..." Matt wasn't buying it and neither was I. It was a totally out of the blue incident, but who were we kidding. Andy has always kept his eyes studiously OFF of me. He avoided my touch, never sat beside me on the sofa. Was never naked around me or around me when I was partially clothed. "He does everything around here." I said instead, rather grimly, "He does all the housework, the laundry, the mail, the. ...What the hell was she doing? Fucking other men while Andy was being my wife?"
"Shit, don't be pissed at him, Jude! He was doing what Mom taught him to do. I bet he doesn't even know..."
"I know! I know that!"
The back door rattled and we got quiet, until Matt started snickering as we both felt like we were gossiping about a girl. Jesus, my face was red and Matt was flustered too. Then we could hear Andy's side of a conversation. My stomach knotted. Andy came into view...and he blanched and reached for the door, shutting it. But the dining room door is thin, and the pass through to the kitchen is just four feet from it. So, we heard every word after he closed the door anyway. His boyfriend was pissed because Andy wasn't coming over to fuck or something. It made me furious.
Matt reached out to stop me but I opened the door anyway, I had to, and when Andy looked up at me, his phone in his shaking hand, his face devoid of color, such a look of utter shame on his face, I was frozen. He told me he was going to be sick and with horrible realization I watched as he ran to the bathroom. That expression, I knew it. It was humiliation. Hurt. Scott had used him, just like that prick Paul in high school.
But when Andy said it aloud, I saw him kneeling in front of that prick, and taking the other mans dick in his pretty mouth and I was profoundly jealous. When Matt said he deserved better, I wanted to say, "Yeah! If you want a cock to suck, you can suck mine, because I will fucking kill anyone else..." The doorbell rang, and I over tipped the pizza guy. Andy didn't come back into the kitchen.
Matt and I didn't talk about him again. I could see it on Matt's face. He saw what was changing and he didn't try to analyze it or judge it. It was a damn good thing I had decided to get out of the Navy. Had I ever loved Kelly? Yes. But there was no doubt in my mind that I should never have married her. Pregnant or not. She didn't want my boys, and even now, she was happy that I had agreed to settle with her, taking the children and giving her our considerable savings. My attorney had been horrified, but had quickly drawn up a temporary custody agreement and asset statement. She had signed it that afternoon.
The family had been distraught when she didn't appear for the funeral. But, I had been oblivious. Because all I could think of was Andy. The blush on his cheeks, the way he bit his lower lip when he looked at me now. His tight t-shirt and the hard points of his nipples in the cool air. I wanted to touch him, to lift his shirt and stroke them with my tongue. I was beyond questioning the future of what I was feeling. I love him. He is family, and he belongs in my bed.
But, don't think that that doesn't shock the hell out of me. I know exactly what I am thinking when I think of sex with Andy. It isn't just a quick blowjob either. I want to spread his legs, look in his eyes and fuck him balls deep right up his ass until he can barely walk. Til he forgets every other cock he has ever taken, and can only see me.
I am hard when he speaks at Mom's funeral and I wonder how mad at me she is right now. I am going to fuck her precious boy and it is as nasty and as raw as I can imagine. I want it so bad I am trying to figure out ways to get everyone out of the house. But, since I can't, I finally surrender to Jack Daniels and take cigarette from my other foster brother Mark and stand out in the damp night. The Jack actually makes me begin to reason with myself. This is a terrible idea. You are just horny, you can't make use of Andy this way. You'll hurt him. Yeah, physically too. Shit, don't think about his tight ass. And then he comes outside and I respond as if I had spent the last forty minutes convincing myself to go after him instead of the opposite.
And now, hours after the best orgasm I can remember, I lay on my bed trying to work out how long I will have to wait for him. How will I seduce him? He is going to fight it. It scares him. He is afraid if I don't want him, he will lose me. If we do this, and it doesn't work out we can never go back. It is too late. It is far too late for those fears. We won't be able to pretend it didn't already happen, the change in our relationship.
He manages to avoid being alone with me all day Monday, and disappears Tuesday morning as well. Finally, I take the boys to day care and wait for him after school that afternoon. He stops in the mudroom and automatically switches the laundry and adds more. This kills me. When he comes around the corner into the kitchen he has the mail in his hand and he looks up. I am leaning against the counter by the sink. He stiffens and looks around.
The house is quiet and it is filled with sunshine as it streams in bright on the clear breezy day. He sways. But, I hold on to the counter beside me. "Andy."
"Jude." He says and looks away and fingers the mail, "I got the mail."
"Don't." I say softly. Oh god, I want to grab him. Maybe I should. We'll see.
"Just, don't go there Jude. Please. It's okay." He starts to leave the room and I decide okay, I will grab him. I catch him around the waist and pull him up against my body and the sound he makes is a cry, a gasping cry filled with emotion, pleasure, pain and need. His hands grasp my arm and the mail flutters to the floor, his ass is pressed solidly against my hard dick and I am slammed with the need that has been haunting me for days.
"Andy." I say again, gently, firmly, and I turn him, slowly, because my dick just wants to be there pressed against his soft butt, "We have to talk. Have to. This can't be ignored and we are going to go there. So, for got sake, don't push me away. I can't handle it. I'll chase you down."
I knew when I walked in the house the boys weren't home. But in my minds eye I thought I saw Jude's truck. When I see him standing in the kitchen, in only the natural light from the window I am struck by how incredible he looks. OH shit.
No, we can't talk about this. Uh oh. I try, to say something meaningless and just leave the room. If I can get upstairs and disappear the moment will pass,. They will happen less and less, I have convinced myself, and we can ignore them.
But he moves so fast, had me, in a heartbeat and there is no mistaking the hard press of him against my ass. He isn't trying to hide it, to forget it. He is here to talk.
"Andy." He says my name into my ear, strong and sure. "We have to talk." My head starts to spin, as he turns me, his dick stroking over my ass, my hip, "Have to. This can't be ignored." He keeps one arm behind my back and the other slides around my neck, cupping my head and tilting my face up to his, "So, for god sake, " he growls, my god, what is that expression? "Don't push me away. I can't handle it. I'll chase you down." It is need. He wants me.
"What are you doing?" I gasp. "Oh god, Jude." And he kisses me. What? I thought we were going to talk?
Maybe that wasn't what he meant to do either. But suddenly my back meets the doorway to the living room and my front is pressed solidly against the wall that is Jude, and his mouth his touching mine softly, just brushing over my lips tasting me.
I don't think any of the guys I have been with have been so preoccupied with my mouth against theirs. Jude kisses me like it is an act of sex. The way kissing should be a part of sex. He is involved with my mouth, tasting, licking and biting. He explores my teeth with his tongue, dances with my tongue, sucks on my lips and tongue. It is wet, and hard, and soft and ...he tastes fantastic. Inside of fifteen seconds I have forgotten why this is a bad idea and wrapped myself around him and returning those mind numbing kisses for all I am worth. I love the feel of his mouth, and his tongue is an instrument of sexual torture that I work desperately to capture. His lower lip is slightly fuller than his upper lip and it feels good between mine, just like he takes mine between his. The hair on his face scrapes me, but when his mouth leaves mine to kiss my jaw, my throat and he pulls my shirt away returning to the mark he left on my I gasp out his name. He is set on keeping me marked, and there is something I need to...
This is Jude. We have to talk.
"Jude! Oh...fuck. Please, you said talk. We have to talk." I beg. My legs are shaking and when he looks down at me I wonder if my lips are that red from his kisses. I am sure they are. "I am a guy, Jude!" It sounds stupid, but maybe he subconsciously isn't really thinking about what he is doing. I am handy.
"You think I could have missed this?" He smiles and I jerk as his hand closes rather firmly with unerring accuracy around my dick outside my jeans. He presses for emphasis, "I have a pretty clear image of you naked in my head Andy." He rubs his cheek against mine, "And yeah, I know how crazy this is. But, I do know exactly what I am doing."
"Could you..." He cuts me off, brushing his mouth over mine, and hushes me. The kiss starts up again, that expression on his face was languid, sexual, determined. I am not that strong. But, he isn't holding me that tightly, and I am rather astounded by his fierce interest. He is going to fuck me, if I am not mistaken, and I have never ever been with anyone so willing to push that boundary. Here he is, the straightest man I know, deciding, without so much as a by your leave, he is going to fuck me and that is that. I don't think I have ever had a kiss taken without permission. I twist suddenly and sharply, Jude doesn't know what the hell he is doing. He staggers as I jump through the doorway into the living room, backing away. "No.'" I say firmly and he stares at me. Wow, male animal.
That is a male animal. Not just a man. I shiver, fascinated, thrilled. Terrified. "No?" He steps towards me and I back up.
"I am serious, Jude. No. You want to talk, we talk. But don't touch me."
He stiffens, but doesn't get angry. He just tightens his body as if restraining himself, and he nods. "Sit down then?" He says huskily, looking past me into the living room. I, wisely, do not turn around, instead I back into the room, choosing the chair not the sofa and he smiles at me amused.
He moves like a big cat, easily, light on his feet. He sits on the sofa, leaning back unconcerned about the heavy push of his cock against his pants. He is plainly aroused and it is the most mouthwatering thing I thing I have ever seen. I recall with blinding clarity the size of him. But, no details. I long for the details and to know if I can take him all the way into my mouth. He laughs suddenly and I look up at his face, my own flaming. Shit!
"Or we could just get naked and you could answer those questions." He reads my mind, I swear to god.
"No! Shit, Jude..." I say angrily. This is not fair. I AM gay, of course I think he is hot and I want his ...but no I don't. "This is a terrible thing for us to do! Why is it happening?" He moves suddenly and I stiffen, but he just scoots closer and his hand touches my arm on the chair.
"Is it so terrible?" he says quietly, "Maybe not. Is it so frightening because you are afraid of what will happen later?"
"Yes! My god yes. I can't just be a release valve for you, Jude." Even as I say it I feel guilty for thinking it. Looking at my hands I put them together, pulling my arm away from him. I can't do this. It feels great, and awful.
"I don't mean for you to think I am using you." He argues, "I hate it when that happens to you..."But he trails off hearing himself. Well, yeah, he is realizing that might be...
"Then don't do this. You have a lot of shit to deal with, with Kelly. It isn't right for us to-"
"Fuck right. Why isn't it?" He says stubbornly, and he sounds so young. God, if he could hear himself.
"What would Mom say?" I ask and finally I look at him and he definitely blushes and looks irritated.
"Well, yeah she'd be mad. Chase me out of the house with a broom probably." He acknowledged with a frown.
"You have to stop touching me. I mean it when I say no." Oh my god, where did I get the courage and the self-awareness to say no to the sexiest man I have ever known.
He stared at me. His eyes are on my face and then on my hands and all of me. We watched each other, and there was sadness, despair and hurt there for both of us. I want to jump onto his lap. But Commander Carlisle is out of my reach. His eyes close for a moment and then nodding he stood and left the room. I slumped in the chair covering my face. We didn't talk. And that tells me all I need to know. I need to get out of this house. I need to grow up. It is my fault this happened. He is suffering in ways I can't begin to imagine. He has children, is losing his wife. Yeah we both miss Mom, but Jude is taking care of everything. I am nothing.
I finally leave the room, realizing I can hear his voice in the office. He is on the phone. Resolutely I climb the stairs. I love him. Like, seriously, it changed, altered from being brotherly to being romantic. Turning that off while living in this house is impossible. I grab a duffle bag. I have a couple of thousand dollars in the bank. I am out the door and in the cab inside of twenty minutes.
I sat in that cab for at least a minute before I could summon my voice around the lump in my throat. Before I could hear myself think past the screaming in my head.
Never thought I was such a coward.