Chapter 3: Stepping Stones
“Well, my boy,” said Robert, a little dazed and clearly satisfied. “That has definitely earned you a little more access to my girl.” His face turned into a beam of pride, directed at Eddie.
Eddie grinned back, feeling a lightness and worthiness from Robert’s attentions. “Thank you, sir.”
“Not much, mind you,” said Robert, his face returning to a parental sternness. “A little extra. Some of that sweet wetness, that delicate little tongue for you to play with. But that’s all. Until you have proven yourself worthy.”
“I want to be worthy,” said Eddie, not sure if he meant for MJ or for Robert, and honestly not caring. He had never felt this way before, feeling like someone wanted him to win, but was going to make him work for it, whilst being supportive, but with strong boundaries. He would never have believed how much he would enjoy something like this. He wanted to show Robert he was worthy more than anything.
“Of course,” Robert continued, taking a seat and offering the other to Eddie. “You can always try to beat me again. That would earn you a little extra on top. But there’s no pressure. I am a formidable opponent.” Robert chuckled and gave him a broad, confident grin.
Eddie, now sitting opposite him, said he had been practising, trying out some of those techniques he’d seen Robert use.
“Excellent,” Robert said. “But, remember, there is so much more I can teach you, if you are open and interested.”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely. I… I really am interested,” Eddie stuttered, feeling the need to make his interest and admiration clear. “You are an excellent teacher, sir. I can’t thank you enough. Truly.” Eddie managed to stop himself, worried he’d said too much.
“Well,” Robert said, a thoughtful squint to his eyes, “you are welcome to stop by again after your date and we can continue.”
Eddie nodded. The men locked eyes. Both men’s hands were laying over their thickening cocks, gently rubbing them through the fabric of their jeans.
“Shall we?” Eddie asked with a cocky smile.
“Very well,” said Robert.
The two men unzipped and pulled their cocks and balls out through the fly. Both were more than half hard already. As Robert pulled his foreskin back, Eddie could see that they were both already sticky with precum, the slick fluid glistening in the firelight.
Robert narrowed his eyes. “3… 2… 1… Go.”
Both men started working their dicks again. This time Eddie was more restrained. Rather than stroking his whole cock with a desperate fist, he kept his movements to the top half, his thumb swiping over his swollen, leaking slit in tight, controlled circles. He watched Robert’s heavier, thicker shaft slide through his own powerful grip, the pace deliberate and steady.
This time, Robert didn’t keep quiet.
“C’mon, boy. Work that fat cock,” he growled, his voice a low, hypnotic rumble. “You want access to those beautiful tits? You want to see those pendulous, milky beauties? Do you think you’re worthy of caressing them, cupping them in your hand as you dominate her mouth?” Robert’s own strokes sped up this time, his fist a blurring, twisting symphony of motion. “You want to hear those sweet, quiet moans she makes as you work her into a state of dripping wetness? You want to suck and lick them until you can just slide your fat cock between them and—”
Robert came.
A sharp, guttural groan was punched from his chest. Thick, pearlescent ropes of cum shot from his pulsing cockhead, splattering across his Henley in hot, rapid bursts. But Eddie didn’t notice, so lost in Robert’s description of MJ’s breasts and what he had wanted to do to them since he first met her.
Robert continued, his voice husky and strained even as his orgasm crested, painting the picture. “—and fuck those titties, squeezing the fleshy mounds, tweaking those fat, hard nipples until your cum erupts all over—”
Eddie came.
The first spurt, sudden and violent, hit his own chin. The next shot over his shoulder. The rest, a voluminous, convulsive release, coated the front of his freshly ironed shirt in a warm, sticky web. He slumped back in the chair, panting, his heart slamming against his ribs.
“Fuck,” said Eddie, blinking dazedly at the ruin of his shirt. “I lost. And this fucking mess?”
Robert chuckled, a deep, rich sound of pure contentment. He was already softening, spent and satisfied. He stood, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to clean himself roughly, and tossed a second, clean one from the side table drawer to Eddie. “Use that for the worst of it. I’ll get you a fresh top.”
He went to the cupboard where he kept changes of clothes on hand and returned with two of his grey Henley's. It was soft, well-worn, and smelled faintly of Robert’s laundry detergent and that underlying, musky scent that was just him. Eddie sat for a moment, catching his breath, feeling more satiated from this jerking game than he had from any of his solo pleasures since their previous match. The profound release in his limbs was pleasant, a total surrender.
Eddie unbuttoned his ruined shirt, careful not to let any of the cum drip. He balled the shirt up and used it to wipe the splash that had gone over his shoulder. He stood there, topless, his well-toned and hairy torso settling, dazed from his orgasm, unsure what to do next in the quiet, firelit room.
Robert, having removed his own soiled shirt, took the wadded fabric from Eddie’s hand. “I’ll take that and launder it for you,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he walked to a discreet cabinet and stashed it out of sight. As Eddie went to pull on the borrowed Henley, Robert stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
“Hold on,” Robert murmured. He swiped a thumb over Eddie’s chin, collecting the thick, cooling spurt of cum hanging there. Eddie offered a quiet, “Thanks, glad I wasn’t about to ruin another shirt,” and pulled the soft garment over his head, the scent enveloping him.
As Eddie settled the fabric over his shoulders, Robert licked his thumb clean with a slow, deliberate pass of his tongue, almost as an afterthought, as if it meant nothing. Eddie was shocked, his stomach flipping, but he also noticed, with a jolt of electric shame, that his spent cock twitched weakly against his thigh when it happened. Was Robert gay? Was this leading somewhere further than these bro-like activities he had gotten himself involved with? Did he care either way? He wasn't sure.
Robert pulled on his own clean shirt, the domestic act a stark contrast to what had just transpired. He tapped on his phone briefly, the screen lighting his placid face. “So,” he said, not looking up. “The job. It’s going well?”
“Yeah, mostly,” Eddie said, finding his voice, grateful for the normal question. “Had a nightmare customer today. Wanted his alternator fixed for the price of a coffee. Told him I was a mechanic, not a wizard.” He gave a half-smile.
Robert chuckled, locking his phone. “The public’s boundless optimism. What do you think I do, Eddie?”
“I dunno. Something with… authority. You’ve got that vibe.”
“I’m semi-retired. I work as an advisor. Large corporations, mostly. Troubleshoot their financial issues.” Robert leaned back, spreading his hands. “And I support young men, not unlike yourself, in my spare time. A calling, I suppose.”
Eddie nodded, the pieces clicking into a strange, sensible mosaic. “That must be why you’re so good at helping me. I appreciate it. The free support.”
Robert’s gaze was unwavering, blue and clear. “It’s always free. I’m not interested in money. I’m interested in a world where people are able to understand, and be curious about, their own and other’s needs.”
The study door burst open without a knock.
“There you two are!” Mary-Jane squealed, bouncing into the room. She looked from Eddie, in Robert’s Henley, to Robert, in an identical one. Her eyes went wide with delight. “Oh my god, you look like twins!” She laughed, a bright, ringing sound, and surged forward, wrapping one arm around each man’s waist, hugging them together.
She lingered, becoming sandwiched between them. Eddie felt the soft pressure of her body, the swell of her breast against his side, the floral sweetness of her perfume cutting through the room’s leather and musk. His mind, traitorous and wired from release, instantly threw out a rapid, graphic image: the three of them tangled on the rug, Robert’s hands guiding his, mouths and skin and—
He banished it violently, his face heating. “We should get going,” he said, his voice slightly strained. “Movie starts in an hour. We still need to eat.”
Mary-Jane pulled back, pouting playfully. Robert’s hand gave Eddie’s shoulder a firm, paternal squeeze before releasing him. “Have a good night, you two,” Robert said, his eyes meeting Eddie’s over Mary-Jane’s head. “I’ll look forward to a full report. On how good the movie was.”
Just over three hours later, Eddie’s car idled softly outside the darkened house. The street was quiet. In the passenger seat, Mary-Jane was a warm, yielding presence, her mouth still sweet from soda and popcorn.
He kissed her, letting Robert’s lessons guide his lips and his tongue. He started slow, brushing his mouth over hers until she sighed, then tracing the seam of her lips with the very tip of his tongue until she opened for him. He didn’t plunge; he explored, a lazy, wet dance that soon had MJ whimpering lightly into his mouth, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders.
Her reactions were everything Robert had promised—the subtle arch of her back, the little vibrations of her throat, the way her whole body seemed to thrum with unlocked sexual energy. Yet, Eddie’s mind kept drifting, replacing the softness of her lips with the memory of rough stubble, the delicate cadence of her sighs with Robert’s low, approving groans. He found himself craving the heavier jaw, the stronger tongue, the taste of whisky and domination.
Then, Robert’s voice from earlier echoed, filthy and tempting: those pendulous, milky beauties… cupping them… Eddie’s eyes dropped to the shadowy cleavage revealed by MJ’s dress. His cock, which had been semi-hard since the kiss began, swelled and leaked against his boxers. His mind yelled at him to just move his hand, to let it ‘accidentally’ brush against the soft flesh, to slip his fingers under the fabric and feel her.
No.
The wrongness of it was a cold splash. The rules were clear, the boundaries Robert had set were non-negotiable. This was the test, and he would not fail it. He broke the kiss, pulling back.
MJ made a soft, frustrated sound, her lips chasing his. “Eddie…”
“It’s time to get you inside,” he said, his own voice rough with want he was choosing to deny.
She sighed, a long, dreamy exhalation. “Okay.”
They walked towards the house, her hand in his. On the front step, under the yellow porch light, she turned to him. “One more? Before you go?”
He obliged, leaning in to give her a kiss that was firm, skilful, and deliberately short. He pulled away while she was still rising onto her toes, her eyes still closed. A faint, wanting frown touched her lips. He liked that. He liked leaving her wanting more. "Sweet dreams, Mary-Jane," he murmured.
She smiled, a little dazed, and floated inside. Eddie watched her ascend the stairs, the sway of her hips under the fabric of her dress a fading echo of the evening's promise. He waited until he heard her bedroom door click shut down the hallway above.
He stood for a moment in the quiet foyer, breathing in the familiar silence of the house. The anticipation that coiled in his gut now was different, sharper, a clean blade of purpose. He knew where he was going.
The journey through the dimly lit halls to Robert's study felt ritualistic. The door was closed. He knocked.
After a long moment, where Eddie wasn’t sure if he should go, but remembered the sound proofing of the study, he heard the click of the study door latch. It opened, and Robert filled the doorway.
His cheeks were a little flushed. The collar of his shirt was slightly askew, and his thick hair looked as though he’d run a hand through it several times. He seemed to pulse with a latent, warm energy.
"Come in, my boy," Robert boomed, his voice rich with contentment. He stepped back, granting Eddie entry into the fire-warmed, leather-scented sanctuary.
Eddie wondered, with a sudden, vivid clarity, if he’d interrupted Robert in the middle of some private pleasure. The thought didn’t repel him; it sent a curious thrill down his spine. He wasn’t about to ask.
Robert closed the door and gestured to the chairs before the fire. "So..."
"We ate Italian. The movie was good. Funny. We both laughed a lot."
Robert settled into his leather armchair, steepling his fingers. His blue eyes were intent, the earlier relaxed glow now focused into a penetrating beam."And?"
"Just kissing. A little tongue. All the techniques you taught me worked better than I could have thought."
Eddie saw the ghost of approval touch Robert's lips, but it vanished into a stern line. "Go on."
"She wanted more. For it to last longer, for it to... deepen. But I pulled back. I brought her inside."
Robert studied him. The silence stretched, filled only by the crackle of sap in a log. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You denied her. And you denied yourself."
"Yes."
A slow, deliberate nod. "I am proud of you, Eddie. Truly. You are learning. Self-control. The language of sex, and of your own needs." Robert's voice dropped to a contemplative murmur. "Sometimes denying our immediate need is the only way to know what it really is. The shape of it. You may want something in a heated moment, but do you still want it in an hour? Do you still crave it the next morning?"
Eddie absorbed this, the concept settling into him like a new truth. It explained the strange, powerful satisfaction he felt now, still aching but somehow full.
Robert's gaze sharpened. "You weren't tempted to go further?"
Eddie decided on total honesty. "I was tempted. The words you said... when we were... competing. About her body. They came to my mind. I felt this pull, this physical pull, to just brush my hand over her breasts, or slip it under her dress. But I stopped myself."
"That," Robert said, and a genuine, appreciative smile broke across his face, "is very impressive." Eddie beamed under the praise, the warmth of it spreading through his chest. “They are incredibly hard to resist," Robert added, almost to himself. He stood abruptly, the moment of reflection severed. "Now, onto your next lesson, if you are ready?
"Ready. And eager."
Robert moved to stand before the fireplace, his broad back to the flames. "And it is to do with what you just mentioned. That next step." He placed a hand flat against his own chest, over his pectoral. "Breast tissue and nipples are very sensitive places. They can hold much more erotic power than many people, especially men, realise. For some, it takes time and conscious work to activate those sensitivities. For others, the wiring is just... there. Waiting."
He paced slowly, his voice taking on the cadence of a lecturer delivering vital information. "Learning to properly stimulate and manipulate that area is a phenomenal precursor to sex. A builder of incredible tension. And sometimes, it is a wonderful experience entirely on its own. A destination, not a hallway." He stopped and looked directly at Eddie. "Have you much practical experience with fondling breasts? Beyond a clumsy grab?"
Eddie almost laughed at the breathtaking directness. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I've just never been asked a question like that so...clinically."
"Answer it clinically, then."
Eddie took a moment to compose himself and think. "I've been with six women where it got to that stage. I like them very much. But the women I've been with never seemed comfortable telling me what they liked, or guiding me. I was never sure if I was doing anything for them, or just...groping."
"Ah, yes," Robert sighed, a sound of genuine regret. "A common issue. Women are not encouraged to explore or express their own sexuality in our culture. It's a huge shame. A missed opportunity for everyone." He paused, his expression turning proprietary. "I have taught everyone I have been with the particular joy of dedicated nipple play. It never fails to impress, and to unlock deeper responses."
Eddie's mouth was dry. "How?"
Eddie's question hung in the woodsmoke-thick air. The firelight carved valleys of shadow across Robert’s face, turning his thoughtful expression into something profound, almost grave.
“How?” Robert repeated, his voice dropping into a lower register. He let the silence stretch, his eyes holding Eddie’s. “I can show you, if you think you're ready,” Robert said in reply, his face serious. “But know you can always say no, or stop, at any time. My methods are intense and they are not for everyone. Although I feel like you’ve taken to them like a duck to water.”
Eddie smiled at the praise and found he was enjoying this clinical depravity. Why not learn from someone who knows more? Why not learn from doing? It was how he was learning mechanics—some theory and some practical, before moving on to the real thing. “Sir, I do think I'm ready and I think your methods are effective and considered. Just tell me what to do,” Eddie replied, equally as serious.
Robert took his seat in the armchair, his legs spread, his bulge perfectly outlined in his fitted jeans. He patted his left leg with a soft “Come.”
Eddie felt ridiculous, but he got up and moved to stand in front of Robert, then turned slightly and lowered himself onto the man's thick, strong leg, trying not to put too much weight on it. “Not too heavy?” Eddie asked, with a grin.
Robert’s hand snaked around Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer, taking more of his weight. “Don’t you worry about that, I’ve had heavier on here,” he mumbled with a half smile, as he turned Eddie’s head towards him. “We start,” Robert instructed, “with a kiss, as always. It always starts from there.”
He pulled Eddie’s face towards him, but controlled the distance, keeping Eddie just far enough that he could begin his gentle kisses, Robert’s other hand resting high up on Eddie’s thigh. The proximity to his cock made it twitch and leak slightly, causing him to moan before Robert’s lips had made full contact. Robert’s mouth started to close the gap fully, his tongue tracing Eddie’s lips and then gently sliding into his mouth.
As the two men made contact, Robert’s right hand moved up from Eddie’s thigh and under the hem of his Henley, making gentle circles through his stomach hair. Eddie’s abdominals contracted and released from the contact, making his cock throb even more, before the hand moved up, pushing through the hair between Eddie’s pecs. Robert’s fingers lingered there, playing with the hairs, making Eddie’s breath catch as Robert’s tongue delved deeper into his mouth, Eddie’s tongue reciprocating.
Then Robert’s hand moved to Eddie’s left pec, gently grasping and massaging, moving closer to the nipple. Robert’s left hand came up to the back of Eddie’s head and pulled him in deeper as his right hand found Eddie’s nipple and grasped it, rolling it between thumb and finger, firm but not pinching. Eddie was surprised by the groan that escaped him, the combination of Robert’s thick wet tongue and rough firm fingers causing him a new kind of pleasure. Robert slowly shifted his manipulations of Eddie’s nipple, flicking it, pulling it, twisting it, discovering what each reaction did to Eddie.
All thought had left Eddie’s head, replaced with need.
He was just a receiving instrument, a collection of live wires Robert was expertly splicing and connecting. Each deliberate tweak of his nipple shot a bright, jagged line of fire directly to the base of his spine, pooling into a molten ache in his balls. His cock was a rigid, leaking column trapped in his jeans. He rutted mindlessly against the rough denim of his jeans, using the solid muscle of Robert’s thigh, seeking a little friction, a little blessed pressure.