Sweat Page 4

  "You gonna shuck that shirt?"

  Carl sat down on the edge of the bed, Jackson already looming toward him with a bag of vegetables in his hand, straight from the icebox. Carl kept up the pretence, managing to drag off the jersey despite the gloves. It felt good to be half bare, with the gentle breeze blowing in through the partly open window on the park. He tossed the jersey toward the door, a reminder to put it in laundry. Jackson was close, his spare hand touching lightly over his wounded shoulder. Carl took in a tight breath, wondering if the lump in his sweats was any more obvious now his jersey was off.

  Carl drunk in the quiet, a total opposite from the football game. His tight chest and shoulders rose and fell slowly under Jackson's innocent touch. He kept his head down, staring down at the light dusting of curls on his chest, the same shade of the dreadlocks that fell loose about his shoulders. They contrasted against his light skin tone. Distracted by Jackson's touch, Carl almost missed stopping Jackson's hand as he moved to put the pack on his shoulder.

  "Nah, it's ok. I don't need that."

  "What?"

  Jackson was close enough that Carl could feel the heat off the big man's body. The fact they were both so close and scantly clad only further excited Carl. It was easy enough to grip a fistful of Jackson's worn hoodie and pull him the short distance he needed to get his friend's lips down against his own. There was an initial hesitation and resistance, only the briefest breaths, out of surprise. Then it melted into the same passionate need, as Carl mingled his tongue with his friend's. The heat there was an entirely more raw sensation, as smooth as Jackson's lips.

  "Didn't think you were hurt,” Jackson said, when they finally parted. Carl's gloved hands were up against Jackson's big chest, steadying him as he stood over him. “Fuck, don't tell me you threw the game just to get me up in here alone with you."

  "Okay, I won't then."

  "Carl...” replied Jackson. He wore that same smile that spoke of two kids getting up to no good. A sense of wrong doing, but a willingness to do it all the same.

  "I was having a fucked up game, Jackson. Not like it made any difference calling it off then. It was a done deal."

  Carl pulled Jackson back in close to let his lips linger on his again, and they shared hot breath. Their words hung between them in half whispers and murmurs. Carl could see the same arousal he felt, newly ignited in Jackson's dark eyes. Nothing felt better than having his friend this close. Carl kissed Jackson, feeling himself swelling quickly in his shorts, tenting them up. As Jackson replied so willingly, he let a hand wander, not surprised to feel the hardness in the front of his friend's game pants.

  "You cool, right?” Carl asked, suddenly attentive to the possibility.

  "I'm still here, ain't I? You should know you don't ever have to worry about this not being okay between us."

  Carl let himself feel the heft of Jackson's short, fat cock, locked tight within the Lycra of his pants. He kissed deeply at Jackson's lips, not even hearing the wet thump of the ice pack hitting the wooden floor. He spread his legs instinctively, as Jackson moved between them. Both of them were pushing back the light garment of Jackson's hoodie, letting it slip over huge shoulders, and thick arms. It puddled on the floor near the pack, equally forgotten as their passions deepened.

  "This what you need?” Jackson asked. Carl was already leaning backwards, clinging to Jackson's big frame, staring up at his friend's eyes. “Get that game out your mind, okay?"

  "Not even thinking about it."

  "Should have told me this was what you needed,” said Jackson. “It's what bein’ a good friend is about..."

  Carl ignored his friend, not bothering to fill him in on the reasons behind his sudden desires. He felt his gloved hands grip on hard flesh, hot on the feeling of them. Carl loved how gloves felt in sex, and Jackson didn't mind, always happy for an addition that would make Carl enjoy things more. Carl knew there was no turning back now that both of them had gone down this path. He briefly tried to remember the last time they had sex. Usually it was Jackson needing the relief, not the other way around.

  Jackson was going at him with all the sexual appetite of a married man with six kids. Carl found himself overwhelmed momentarily, losing his shorts in the brief moments. His jock came next, freeing his hardness to cooler air, and then Jackson's attentive grasp. Carl let out a tight moan as the two were lost in momentary struggle, trapped between lust and a want to get each other naked. Carl did a poor job of loosening Jackson's pants.

  It was always this way. Carl preferred it desperate, and hot. Like their forbidden passion might be discovered any moment if they didn't express it quickly enough. Jackson's short yet great girth bowed heavily beneath him, big balls hanging lower, as he got himself half out of his pants, and got Carl halfway into the middle of the bed. By the time Carl had managed to scramble back a little, the bed was mussed, and Jackson was naked and on top of him.

  Carl thrilled at the way his gloves gripped at Jackson's huge shoulders, and he drank in the sight of his closest friend's deep skin tone. He let himself think of Juan's flesh, close enough to it in its rich brown, warm and smooth like just stirred chocolate. Carl felt himself respond to the thought, his dick burning and hard in Jackson's renewed grasp. He was stroking him slowly, kissing at him as Carl stroked and touched his great muscles.

  Carl let himself murmur Juan's name as Jackson's kisses dropped inevitably. He sucked in a tight breath, moaning as Jackson took him, to cover the volume of it. He hadn't meant it to come out that loud. But he cared less as Jackson began sucking him, taking him in low, slow strokes.

  "Fuck, deeper,” Carl groaned, his hands on Jackson's head. His friend didn't need the encouragement now, as always, willingly going farther. “Ah, man ... fuck..."

  Carl bucked up under Jackson's big frame, stroking as Jackson stroked. His legs spread, the air already so hot between them, fired up like their passion. His head hung off the side of the bed where he lay, dreadlocks showering back, as he held onto Jackson's shoulders and rode. The release was dizzying, burning away the frustration of the game, and the past few weeks.

  Carl kept thinking of Juan, thought that he saw him bobbing there between his legs as he stared down with muddled eyes. He thought of the youth's tight, muscular body, his gloves gripped tight against Juan's skin. He wondered if the guy's game was as good in bed as it was on the field. Maybe he could school Juan on how to make love to a man.

  "I need to fuck,” said Carl, groggy with hormones. He looked down to see Jackson's already sweaty face, his wide grin.

  "Why you hittin’ it so fast? We can take our time if you want..."

  "I got to fuck."

  Jackson shifted upward, grabbing him by either leg. Carl felt the breath catch momentarily in his throat as he saw Jackson there above him. It was hard to think that a tower of muscle like him, as married and spawned as he was, would be into guys, let alone be a bottom to one. Jackson barely had to strain as he pulled him back along the bed to where he was kneeling, lifting him to turn about and dump him the right way along the bed. The breeze off the park felt cool on his wet dick. It was the only part of him that didn't burn feverishly.

  "You into that guy, ain't you, man?"

  The question came as a whisper when Jackson leaned down over him, and Carl's hands played up over that big chest. Carl thought to deny it, even though he wasn't sure why he had kept it hidden from his friend in the first place. Carl kept nothing from him, and Jackson was the same. Jackson's infidelity with his wife with him was a benchmark. Brothas this close didn't keep secrets.

  "I don't mind,” Jackson said, drawing a big hand up along Carl's body. It burned a path like hot lava across him, making him shudder in its wake. “Was he makin’ you think all sorts of crazy shit on the field? That throw your game?"

  Carl went with the throes of passion, groping down along Jackson's thick, ponderous ass. A few gloved fingers slipped within the moist crease there. He kissed along Jackson's damp flesh, “He was driving me
fucking crazy."

  "So you thought you'd come up in here and tap your brotha's ass."

  Carl's fingers played lightly across Jackson's hole. He forced himself not to be too rough in his eagerness. “I swear, Jackson. I would have fucking burst if he kept playing me the way he was."

  "No foul, Carl. No foul.” Jackson's kisses found his lips, and they locked tight for a moment, bodies as one. Jackson's breath was hot on his skin when he broke. “No secrets though. That's what we promised."

  "He twenty, Jackson. He made me feel like his dad."

  "But you ain't. And he made you feel like you wanted to fuck his brains out, too,” Jackson replied. Carl's chest was pressed against Jackson's massive frame, as he stared up into his friend's eyes.

  "You don't think that shit is sick? Me liking him like that?"

  Jackson paused, enough to pull back and look down at Carl. Carl saw the searching expression in the big man's eyes. The desperate assault of kisses and touching slowed, yet Carl didn't let his gloved hands stray too far from Jackson's ass. He felt the burn of embarrassment under Jackson's constant gaze.

  "You both adults, Carl. You both fuckin’ horny out of your brains,” Jackson remarked. Carl watched the playful grin spread across Jackson's features. “Hell of a way for him to throw your game..."

  "Tell me about it. Left me with a jock full of hard feelings."

  Jackson laughed, and the rich, rumbling sound and sensation vibrated through Carl's own chest. Carl grinned, slammed a palm up against the heft of Jackson's shoulder. It didn't do anything to the big man. “I'm fucking serious, Jackson."

  "Yeah, I know.” The kisses resumed again, big hands trailing down along Carl's body. He felt comfortable under his friend, despite how it might make any other top feel. “So take it all out on me, Carl. You know I'm cool with whatever fantasies you got in your mind."

  "Think your ass is bigger than his..."

  Jackson reached over toward the bedside bureau, already knowing where things were kept. He fished around inside, the afternoon air touching between their bodies as they parted momentarily. “Bet that ain't gonna hold you back. I know how crazy you get over a nice, tight ass."

  "Shit..."

  Jackson popped the cap off the tube of lube, kneeling up to squeeze a cold trail of it along Carl's length. Compared to the heat of their lovemaking, the lube was frigid, making his dick leap with the contrast. The sensations were lost as Jackson wrapped his fingers about him, and started milking him with a delicious firmness. Carl lay under him, moaning, feeling as if Jackson was pulling at his very soul, lubing and squeezing it up through his throbbing cock.

  "We need to get you hitched. Fuck you being shy with the boys."

  Carl let out a gasp, but he wasn't too sure if it was the pleasure, or what Jackson was implying. He tried not to let it show in his face, as Jackson slowly stroked him, the lubricant slipping and slurping about his dick. Some of it mussed his pubes. Jackson was always liberal with the lube. He was reaching back on himself, and Carl revelled in the parade of slight expressions he saw in Jackson's face as he slowly spread the lube about his tight ass.

  "Doubt Juan's the sort that likes to play with boys anyway, Jackson,” Carl replied. As exciting as the proposition was, it only complicated the status quo beyond what he was willing to think about.

  "Never know, brotha. You never know."

  Carl watched as Jackson climbed up off the bed, a tower of thick muscle, all brutal, blocky strength. He pulled more than his weight on the field, the backbone of their defensive line. As distracting as it was seeing Jackson dressed in half of a Chargers uniform, it was more so seeing him out of it. The dark girth of his dick made Carl wonder at how it made the man's wife feel. It almost made him feel guilty that he topped Jackson in bed. He wondered often enough how it was a man like Jackson would enjoy bottoming to another man.

  "You know I trust you, Carl,” Jackson remarked over a big shoulder, watching as Carl climbed up off the bed. “Don't let them fantasies stay in your head."

  Carl was quickly up behind his friend, feeling the burning press of that flesh against his own. Jackson's big frame relaxed back into his arms, and he could feel the intimate trust there. Carl felt his cock slip wet against Jackson's ass, as the thrilling thought of Juan crossed his mind. His length slipped between Jackson's cheeks as he put his arms up about his friend. A moment of basking in that glowing warmth, and then he started getting himself into place, breath raw with panting, mind rich with memories of the hard young athlete.

  "You ain't the only one needin’ this bad, Carl."

  "That isn't going to change."

  "Hope not,” Jackson said. His voice was lost almost as Carl felt himself move into the sweaty, burning place between Jackson's cheeks. Carl was always so eager, far too hasty to spend time loosening Jackson with his fingers. Then there were the gloves. It wasn't as if Jackson had any more patience.

  Carl rocked Jackson back against him, trusting the big man to hold the weight of his frame, even as he felt the power of it against him. A shared groan escaped him, as Carl felt his head nestle home, then press against Jackson's hole. Carl kept it slow by habit, at least at this point, but Jackson was pushing back, relaxing. Moaning softly. Carl felt the need almost vibrating in Jackson's huge form, something he felt within himself, tingling in his gut. He closed his eyes as he started sinking slowly home, and Jackson held him, as tight as only a man's ass could.

  "Fuck..."

  "Yeah, Carl ... c'mon, papi. That's it..."

  Carl's mind lost the deep sound of Jackson's voice as he painted it rough street Spanish. Carl heard the smooth, cool confidence of the Latino's tone. All too confident, to the point it was infuriating. He pushed forward, feeling the waves of emotion washing back over him. How he wanted to fuck Juan, with a force born of frustration and lust. He started rocking his hips, feeling Jackson grunt against him. He felt his skin pressing tight against the muscles there. He lost himself as he pushed too hard, feeling the tight and sudden clench.

  "C'mon, papi. School me. I know you want to. I seen you lookin’ at me."

  Carl's eyes shot open wide as Jackson sank back, lancing himself in farther. He saw the great muscles of Jackson's back, but the illusion of his voice wasn't lost. Damn. He didn't know Jackson was into it like this, playing with him only made it more powerful. It was a goading challenge that Carl couldn't help but accept. His gloves gripped on the wide curve of Jackson's body, taking easy purchase as he started to angle and stroke, feeling Jackson fall into an increasing rhythm against him, both of them fucking as much as the other.

  "Fuck you, Juan."

  "That's it, papa.” Jackson let out a tight grunt, as Carl shoved suddenly home. “Yeah ... you like that? Papa? Yeah?"

  Carl felt his pace gathering, his fingers working down along the length of Jackson's body. He felt the broad sensation of Jackson's deep, cut abs, and imagined Juan's more athletic frame. In his mind he undressed the thug, feeling the willingness in every stroke back against him. He set his gloved hand firmly against that low belly, nestled near the dense patch of pubic hair, pulling Jackson's ass back with every firm fuck forward.

  In his mind, the three of them joined in an orgy of sexuality.

  Carl's ears filled with the sounds of their groans, and the slap of wet flesh against flesh. Hard muscle pounded as they grunted, rutting in the bedroom with the same vibrancy and enthusiasm as they clashed on the field. As Carl's grunts turned to shouts, matched by Jackson's deep tones, he felt himself peak all too quickly in his excitement and fill his friend, in gasping ropes of come.

  Carl felt dizzied, saved by the grip of his gloves on Jackson's big, shining body. He slipped back and out, finding his friend next to him on the bed as they rested. It was only a moment. Carl knew he had far more in him, and that Jackson never did sex by half. His chest heaved, as he stared up at the ceiling and basked in the feeling of bliss and the breeze along his bare skin.

  Jackson was moving again beside h
im, and Carl thought to say something to stop him. He was horny, but he wasn't too sure even he could do it again this quickly after. Jackson grinned down at him, fishing about in his faded hoodie, before tossing a tiny corner of paper down on him. Carl picked it off his chest, as it lay against the dusting of hair there.

  "What's this?"

  It looked like a number, briefly scrawled.

  "Why don't you call and find out?"

  Carl looked up at Jackson, all sweaty muscle and mischievous grins. He willed himself to sit up, his hard dick still standing in his lap. “Serious, Jackson."

  "Looks like your brotha still got it,” Jackson explained. “Told him I wasn't into guys, but I had a friend who was. He gave me his number anyway. Told me to give it to you then."

  Carl started to connect the dots, looking at the slip of paper before searching Jackson's deep brown eyes. His friend clapped him hard on the shoulder, something that made a sharp sound.

  Juan?

  "I ain't gonna find you all your men, brotha, even if I am your homeboy. One these days you gonna have to get up your own nuts to do this shit."

  "Damn,” Carl remarked, not sure what to say. His body was tingling with the reality. Jackson's hand was on his shoulder again, rubbing slowly. “Don't know how to thank you on that one."

  "Sure you do. You can start by giving your new homeboy a call in an hour or two instead of right away..."

  Carl smiled, setting the paper aside on the bedside bureau. His lips found Jackson's again, the fire in his member still blazing hot, his body trembling as the thoughts of Juan filled him again. His slightly gummy fingers of his gloves bumped down Jackson's big chest. He felt Jackson responding to him in kind, great hands slowly stroking up along his sides to grip at him just under the arms. Carl soared, breaking his kisses just long enough to speak.

  "Done."