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Living Together

Category:  STRAIGHT MEN 

Cowritten with: Joe


    As I graduated high school, there was a lot to celebrate. Ending up on the honor roll. Getting into the college of my choice. But there was one thing I was looking forward to more than anything: living on my own in New York City!

    My parents owned a small apartment in the city, where they used to live before they had kids and moved upstate. All these years they'd been renting it out, but now that I was about to start college in the city, I would get to live there all by myself. To say it was a dream come true was an understatement.

    Truth is, I really didn't want to move to a dorm, which is what most of my friends were doing. There was a simple reason for that as well: I didn't want anyone to know I was gay. Not just yet. 

    That seemed like a secret that would be much more difficult to hide if I lived with other people (specifically: other guys). I mean, what if I ended up rooming with some hunky upperclassman? Even though it was a hot fantasy, I knew it would also be torture, having to hide my lust for him. No, I was best on my own! I was an introvert anyway. I spent most of my free time reading or playing video games. Maybe someday I'd put myself "out there" more. I was sure I'd come out to my parents and my sister eventually, and they wouldn't judge me for it either. I just needed a bit more time. And the right push, maybe.

    Then one day, just a few weeks before the start of the first semester, my parents sat me down in the dining room.
   "Casey… we need to talk," Dad said ominously.

    "Oh my god, is everything okay?" I asked, panicking. 

    "It's fine," Mom said unconvincingly. "We just have some news."

    "Is it bad news?"

    "Not really," she replied. "It's about Rachel."

    Ah, phew! What was my sister up to this time? Whatever it was, I wouldn't be surprised one bit. I didn't put anything past her.

    I wasn't close to my older sister, mostly because we couldn't be more different. She was always the popular girl (and like most popular girls, she peaked in high school and refused to grow up ever since). She didn't go to college. Instead, she moved to Australia, where our mother was from, to do a "gap year." Well, what ended up happening is she got knocked up. I seemed to be the only person in the family who wasn't shocked when we heard the news. It was totally what I expected from Rachel.

    In her defense, I couldn't blame her for not resisting the guy. I'd seen photos of the baby's father, Jaxon, and holy shit! He was beyond fucking hot. A blond muscle god with tattoos ALL over his body. He worked as a tradie, which is what they called manual workers down there. He was the embodiment of a bad boy, the kind you want to have fuck your brains out all night.

    "What about Rachel?" I asked my parents, feeling a bit more relaxed. 

    "She's moving back home," my father said.

    Ha! Again, no surprise there. Rachel's been in Melbourne for a while now, and she was probably running out of money. She had a decent job in retail, but spent all her money on things like fake boobs and hair extensions.

    "She's coming back to live with your guys? Great! J.J. can have my room after I'm gone."

    Even though Rachel wasn't exactly mother material, at least she seemed to take decent care of J.J., my little nephew.

    "No," Dad continued. "She got a job, and she's moving to the city."

    That ominous feeling returned in the pit of my stomach and started to rise and spread all over my body. Oh no, no, no…

    "She'll need a place to stay," I heard my father's voice through a haze, "so we think it's best if you guys live together in the apartment. At least for the time being."
   Fuck! I was so close! I was so excited to get to live on my own. Okay, granted: I was being selfish. That apartment was hers just as much as it was mine. Not like I could do anything about it anyway. And I guess it's better to live with my sister than with a complete stranger.

    "Okay," I nodded, accepting my fate.

    "There's more," Mom chimed in. "Rachel and Jaxon are getting married."


    "They decided to give it another go," Mom said of my sister's on-off relationship. "And the easiest way for him to get a visa to stay in the country is if they're married. So they're doing it soon, without a ceremony or anything. And he's coming to New York."

    "So that means…" I muttered.

    "You'd be living with Jaxon as well," my father confirmed.

    The photos I'd seen flashed through my mind. Images of Jaxon shirtless at the beach, his chest so big he almost looked like he had implants himself. His board shorts sagging so low, that my eyes had moved from his chiseled abs down to his obliques and lower belly. I knew nothing about the guy (except how fucking hot he was) and now… now we'd be living together?



    "Jaxon! Are you ready?"

    "Coming, Dad," I heard my son yelling from upstairs. 

    "Well hurry up so we can get going. I'll wait for you by the van."

    It was barely seven o'clock in the morning, but it was time to leave if we were gonna make it in time for Jaxon's flight. It was a long drive to the airport from where we lived. Out in the front yard, I lit a cigarette while waiting, before starting to cough and spitting out phlegm on the driveway.

    "You oughta quit smoking," my son's voice came from behind me. Jaxon closed and locked the front door, then walked up to me. "Let me have one."

    "Bloody moocher," I said, giving him a cigarette and a lighter. He lit up, and we stood in front of the house while we smoked. It was a cold August morning, and we both rubbed our hands.

    "Fuckin' freezing, ain't it?" my son said while blowing out smoke.

    "Yeah, well it's summer in America, so you'll be warm when you get there."

    "Yeah," Jaxon agreed, and we smoked in silence for a while. I wasn't sure what to say and I didn't want to get too emotional about him moving halfway across the world. Truth was, even though he was a royal pain in the arse, I'd miss my son.

    If it weren't for the age difference, he and I almost looked identical. Same paint-stained gray sweatpants that we wore for work. Same tattoos covering up our entire arms; mine going down to my wrists, Jaxon's extending to his hands and fingers. Same passion for pretty girls that got us in trouble.

    "Be nice to Rachel when you get there, aight? Don't fuck it up this time!" I offered my version of heartfelt fatherly advice. 

    "Aha," Jaxon nodded.

    As far as I knew, he and Rachel fought all the time but if they were anything like Jaxon's mother and me, they probably had the hottest makeup sex as well, which is what kept them together. She was fucking hot, that girl was. I'd blown quite a few loads, jerking off while looking at the slutty photos she posted online. I'd admitted it to my son as well, he and I were always close like that. He wasn't mad; instead, he shared some naked photos of her with me for even more of my wanking pleasure. Granted, back then the two of them were broken up, and no one anticipated that someday she might become my daughter-in-law.

    Rachel was already back in New York with my grandson, and Jaxon was about to go join them. Thankfully, my in-laws had set them up with a place to live, even if it came with an extra roommate.

    "And be nice to Rachel's brother, what's his name? The one that'll be living with you?"

    "Casey," my son answered, before spitting on the grass.

    "Casey. Be nice. Don't be a prick!"

    "Dad, what're you on about?! I'm always nice," my son smirked.

    "Yeah, yeah. Don't make yourself too much at home. The boy's what, 18?"

    "I'll be nice. I'll help him with his homework and everything."

    "Ha. As if you could ever pass a college class."

    "Fuck you," my son said affectionately, as we finished our cigarettes, threw the butts out in the street and got in the car. 

    We drove along the dark road for about half an hour. Both of us were tired and didn't have much to say. As I stared at the highway with my son in the passenger seat, my mind wandered to when he was a young boy and I used to take him to a few of my jobs to see how his old man worked. He was so little and skinny back then. Now, I looked over at him and saw a strapping young man. His muscles barely allowed his tank top to stay on. Tattoos covered his body. He was a good looking man, if I did say so myself. After all, he took after me.

    Jaxon was one of those guys that adjusted their junk every couple of minutes impulsively. Sometimes he even tucked his hands inside his joggers and left them there, even when other people were around. Today, he was even more fidgety than usual, probably because of the long drive. After a while, he pulled out his phone, and I noticed him scrolling through pictures of sexy naked girls. The usual stuff: big tits, legs spread open, long fingernails next to plumped-up lips. He had the same taste as his father.

    After a little while, I heard the sounds of some girl moaning coming from Jaxon's phone. Seems like he had moved on to videos. I kept on driving unbothered. This wasn't an unusual occurrence for us. One or both of us would often end up looking at porn when on a long drive or during an overnight trip; no big deal. I caught a few glimpses of the screen here and there. As I looked again, I noticed my son's sizable cock growing inside his sweatpants.

    "You getting hard, mate?" I asked him casually as I glanced over. He chuckled quietly and just continued watching his video. After a few minutes, he shifted in his seat again and pulled his pants down enough to unleash his cock. He hadn't bothered to put on any underwear this morning, so the job was even easier.

    "I need a wank," he said, and started pulling on his cock. I continued to drive as my son jerked off next to me, his movements getting faster and faster until he had found a steady pace. The sun was starting to rise and more cars were starting to appear on the road alongside us. Jaxon continued to pleasure himself, moaning every now and then over the sound of his cock being stroked. I heard my son grunt softly as he got closer, his foreskin covering and uncovering his head, making it more and more sensitive. I tried to keep my eyes on the road but I glimpsed at Jaxon every now and then, feeling curious. A minute later, my son let out a loud moan, followed by several shots of cum landing all over his hand and chest.

    "Cheeky fucker!" I said to my boy, as he reached into the glove box for a rag to wipe his hands. He exhaled loudly, pulled up his sweats, and settled into his seat as I continued to drive. A little while later, I felt my eyes starting to close a couple of times as the road faded in front of me. 

    "I'm gonna need you to take over for a while, Jax," I said, pulling over to the side of the road, and opening the door to get out and switch. The fresh air felt good on my tired face, and Jaxon came around the other side. I lowered myself into the passenger side and got ready to make myself comfortable for the remainder of the ride.

    "Ah! You dirty cunt!!" I called out in surprise. "You got some spunk on the seat!"

    Jaxon just laughed and started to drive, leaning back in his seat. I sat frozen for a minute with my hand in midair, my son's cum covering my hand. Feeling cheeky, I wiped it off the tank top my son was wearing, which led to us exchanging a few more profanities and laughing out loud.



    Despite our differences, my sister Rachel and I got along fine in small doses. She was self-absorbed and made bad choices, but she never did anything to me directly that was ill-meaning. Indeed, when we were in school together, everyone knew me as "Rachel's brother" and they never picked on me, no matter how nerdy or awkward I was.

    My sister was also the one who drove me from our parents' house to the city when it was my time to move. The drive went by without incident. We caught up a bit on what she had been up to while she was living in Australia, and it was enough for me to forget that as soon as we got to the apartment I would be meeting her husband, Jaxon. Whenever I thought about it I felt... nervous, which is why I preferred to avoid those thoughts completely.

    When we arrived at my parents' apartment in Brooklyn, my sister parked the car and we began to unload my boxes. It was a swelteringly hot day, and I instantly became sweaty and uncomfortable, my small frame struggling to lift the heavy cases up a set of stairs and into the elevator. Finally, we got up to the door and my sister opened it. Our first set of boxes came down with a thud.

    It was then that I heard a toilet flush and, out of the bathroom came Jaxon. Somehow, he looked even better than in those pictures! He seemed somehow bigger and more handsome, and he had a sort of down-to-earth charm that you picked up when you met him in person and saw his smile. Not that it was easy focusing on his smile without looking down. Jaxon was wearing a fairly tight pair of gray boxers and nothing else! He hobbled out of the bathroom with the kind of lack of grace that men of his size usually had. For a split second, I could actually see the outline of his cock in his boxers.

    "How's it going, mate?" he said to me casually, and I couldn't even imagine responding. I stood there like an idiot until Jaxon offered me his hand. I accepted it, and blushed as he gave me a nice, tight squeeze.

    "Oh my god, I can't do this," Rachel said loudly, ignorant of my awkwardness, "You help him with his boxes," she told her husband and threw him the keys, before disappearing down the hall. 

    I stood in stunned silence, unable to move now that it was just him and me. Jaxon just shrugged and made his way to the door. I couldn't believe what I was seeing: was he headed out the door in nothing but his clingy boxers?! I couldn't imagine going out in public in just my underwear, but then again I didn't have the body that Jaxon had. 

    After a moment of hesitation, I rushed to catch up with my brother-in-law. The elevator arrived and the two of us got inside, Jaxon walking in barefoot. The building was fairly old, and the elevator was small. As we stood inside the tiny, enclosed space, I could feel the heat from Jaxon's body radiating against me. My heart pounded. His body was massive. His chest and shoulders were unlike anything I had ever seen. His arms, with their intricately inked designs were bigger than my thigh. The fabric of his boxers clung to his ass, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. In this heat, his forehead was moist, and I could see sweat dripping from his hairy underarms as well.

    He turned to me with a pleasant, friendly smile and said, "Fuckin' hot today, huh mate?" I almost lost my breath.

    "Oh, yeah…" I said finally. ("What a clever response!" I thought.)

    We made about half a dozen trips like this, up and down and in and out of the elevator. Boxes in tow, we took as much as we could carry. Jaxon could always manage way more than I could, and made it look so easy. I was in awe. On our last trip up, we both were a bit out of breath and breathed in deeply. As we stood close together in the elevator, I could smell his scent and feel it filling my lungs. He smelled of sweat and cigarettes. It was intoxicating.

    As we made it inside with the last of the boxes, we placed as many as we could in my modestly sized room. The room was now full with towers of boxes filling each space on the floor, with barely any room to walk. I was suddenly overwhelmed.

    I sat down on the bed. Jaxon looked at me suddenly and said, "Ya need anything else, mate?"

    "N– No," I said, "Thank you!"

    "Aight," he said, and patted my shoulder fraternally, before heading into his and my sister's bedroom. I stood there, in our new apartment, and felt a jolt of electricity running through my body, from the spot where my near-naked brother in law had touched me on the shoulder. 

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