The Drunk Guy Ch. 04


My dreams that night were a series of heart-pounding crises revolving around Nick getting naked and my attempts to hide him from an increasingly bothersome House staff team. When I woke around 8:30, I was awash with adrenaline and my dick was achingly stiff.

As I lay there waiting for my consciousness to fully boot up, I took a mental stroll through the events of the previous evening. Had I genuinely fingered a sleeping straight guy? Did I really give him what was probably the most intense orgasm he’d ever had? I could scarcely believe this was my life.

But the thing my mind centred on was not that explosive finale. Instead, I found myself back at the point when Nick had willingly revealed his horse cock to me. With the objectivity brought by a brand new day, that moment felt like the bright heart of the whole fantastic night. I felt a surprisingly sharp sense of remorse that I hadn’t capitalised on the moment.

When my brain was sufficiently warmed up, I finally confronted the issue of the one who sees. Or, to be more precise, Kelly. Once again, an otherwise electric encounter with Nick had been marred by the presence of my blackmailer. I tried to imagine her next move and came up empty-handed, so at last I got out of bed and started up my PC. There was only one way to find out.

Sure enough, despite the early hour a new email awaited me. It was entitled ‘Tut tut tut’ and contained just one photograph: me kneeling on the floor in front of the slumbering Nick, one hand on his dick and the other probing his arse. It was more than enough to prove the point.

Along with the photo was a message.

Smooth move on the camera. Shame I was RIGHT OUTSIDE THE WINDOW when you turned it on!!! Ha ha! Loser! If you try to catch me out again you’re going to have a big problem. I liked what you did to Nick tho so I’ll let you off THIS TIME, but if you want to keep me happy you need to go one better tonight.

Tonight!? Kelly wanted me to have my way with Nick again, and take things even further than I had last night?

I felt a mix of emotions at that prospect: anger at the ongoing manipulation, fear of the mounting risk… and a rush of excitement at the thought of yet more time with Nick. I’d been pretty bold the first time I’d stroked his cock but I doubted I’d have gone back for seconds if Kelly hadn’t blackmailed me, let alone thirds. I was starting to regain some control of the situation at last but I can’t deny it, a part of me wanted to relinquish that control and let events continue to force me into actions I wouldn’t consider otherwise.

But no. Playing further into Kelly’s game was too risky. She was in my sights now and I had to break the hold she had on me, no matter what side benefits I stood to lose.

I didn’t respond to the email. Instead, I showered, dressed and gathered up an armload of things to take with me to the Cottage: Nick’s jogging bottoms, his wash kit, some breakfast muffins, my key. I was lost in my thoughts as I stepped into the private hallway outside my apartment, and I didn’t notice Sam approaching until she was right at my side. I flinched and dropped everything to the floor.

“Fuck, Sam!” I exclaimed as I squatted to palm the Cottage key and gather up the other items.

She laughed and chirped in a wry tone, “Morning, butt fingers!”

My head snapped up at her, my eyes narrowing to suspicious slits.

“What did you say!?” I gasped.

“Mor-ning but-ter fin-gers,” she repeated in a moronic monotone then made a well, d’uh face at me.

My heart began to beat again and I chided myself. This whole affair was making me paranoid.

Sam stooped to pick up the muffins. “What’s with all the stuff?”

“Don’t ask,” I said simply after failing to come up with a plausible explanation.

Now it was Sam’s turn to narrow her eyes as she handed the muffins over.

“Anyway,” I continued. “What brings you up here?”

Her face brightened. “Konrad’s going to cover my shift from eight tonight and be on call for me so I can go into town. Come along!”

It was a sweet gesture, and Sam and her friends were fun to go out drinking with. In other circumstances I’d have accepted the offer immediately but something made me decline and keep my night open. As it turned out, this was a wise decision.

“Your loss!” she said with a shrug.

Sam and I parted company and, when I was sure her thoughts had moved on from me, I slipped out of the building and made my way towards the Cottage.

I wasn’t the first person there. A man stood at the front door, a pushbike leaning against his hip. He lifted a fist to knock on the door, and the impatient way he did it told me it wasn’t his first attempt at summoning the occupant. I recognised him by his ponytail. This was Keith, or Keef as most of his colleagues on the maintenance team knew him, and he appeared to be working this weekend. For the past couple of years, Alan had scheduled one of his subordinates to work every Pendik Escort Saturday and Sunday throughout the winter. This made sure we always had someone on-site to grit the paths, sort frozen pipes, fix faulty radiators and tend to all the other issues that crop up in cold weather. The unlucky employee was at least rewarded with the preceding Thursday and Friday off, which meant this was Keith’s first day at work since Nick had lost his job. Keith had no doubt heard the news on the grapevine, but he was clearly hoping to get it straight from the horse’s mouth before starting his shift.

“Yo, Nick! Open up!” he called, and he stepped back to look up at the dormer windows in the roof.

After another five seconds with no response, Keith cursed, threw a leg over his bike and cycled away towards the Maintenance Hub. His ponytail fluttered out behind him as he picked up speed and his rucksack flapped against his back. I was still too far away for him to notice me. Before long he was out of sight and none the wiser to my presence.

I let myself into the Cottage and stood quietly, just as I had yesterday morning. The place was utterly silent. It appeared Keith’s knocking and calling hadn’t roused Nick from his sleep.

Then something soft and wet bounced off my head, making me flinch like a startled animal, and a deep rumble of manly laughter came through the open bathroom door on my left. There was Nick, sat in the bath at the far end of the room, wet hair pushed back from his forehead and a mischievous smile on his face. He’d thrown an old sponge at me.

“Morning Twinkletoes,” he grinned.

He was in good spirits and responding warmly to me. It seemed he had no recollection of the previous night.

I had no reason not to smile back at him. He looked so fucking cute. And hot too. His torso was somewhat bent in on itself within the narrow confines of the bath so his chest, shoulders and arms looked bunched up and extra bulky. The hair on his body was slicked against his skin, revealing the deep valley between his pecs and the twin nubs of his hard nipples. Everything south of his navel was hidden from my eyes by the side of the bath, and for that I was glad. My dick was already beginning to harden inside my jeans.

“You didn’t want to speak to Keith then?” I asked, nodding towards the bathroom’s frosted window. It was only a few feet from the front door. Nick and Keith could have chatted through it quite easily if Nick had chosen to reveal his presence.

“Keef is the last person I want to see right now,” said Nick, making a face.

I remembered something then: Keith was the colleague Nick had started a fight with back in the summer. The two men had got on well enough as far as I knew, but it seemed things between them had been decidedly frosty since the brawl.

To lighten the mood again, I bent to pick up the sponge and threw it back at Nick, aiming for his head. He plucked it deftly from the air before it hit its target and he made a that all you got? face, then he noticed what I’d brought with me.

“Ah, Dave, you diamond!” He held out one dripping hand for his wash kit.

Oh my.

I paused, indecisive. If I took his things over to him, I would be afforded a clear view of his entire naked body. As far as Nick was aware, this was a sight I hadn’t seen yet and he would no doubt expect a reaction to my first glimpse of his huge dick. I wasn’t sure how to play that. I’d been so underhand and manipulative lately that I couldn’t imagine what a natural response should be at this point.

He sensed my apprehension. The corner of his mouth rose the slightest fraction.

“Come on,” he said, making a clutching motion with his hand. “Bring it over.”

His voice had a reassuring it’s all right tone about it but there was a sudden atmosphere of expectancy in the room, as if this moment of exhibitionism involved some element of challenge. I guessed when it came to his straight acquaintances, the challenge was simply a contest of size. By virtue of a taking a piss at the same time or changing together or simply steering conversation, Nick would somehow engineer a moment for comparison and emerge the victorious alpha. No doubt he liked to confirm exactly how well hung he was, both to his buddies and himself, and embed that fact in the dynamics of the friendship. With me, although his desire to be known to be big was still strong, it was more a contest of nerve. The straight guy was about to show his godlike cock off to a gay guy. Who would remain unflustered the longest and claim the cool upper hand in our strange relationship?

I stepped through the doorway and walked towards the bath, taking more time than strictly necessary. Gradually, the lower half of Nick’s body came into view; the lovely patch of flesh beneath his navel, his pubes, a knee, a thigh…

I stepped up alongside the bath and handed Nick his wash kit. Then I glanced down between his legs, accepting the tacit Anadolu Yakası Escort invitation to confirm what everyone at the House strongly suspected. His cumbersome bollocks nestled in the gap between his thighs and there, jutting out boldly in front of them, was that glorious cock. Even flaccid it looked so big and blunt and club-like my heart swelled and broke a little, just as it had done so often these last few days. And here I was, looking at it again with Nick’s permission. His approval only made the moment all the more exquisite.

I needn’t have worried about rustling up a believable reaction: one came anyway.

“Oh my goodness…” I heard myself say.

Nick waved this away, striving for his usual casual demeanour, but he didn’t fool me. Perhaps I was getting to know him well enough, or maybe he was letting his guard down around me, but either way I could clearly see something in his eyes that was wholly cocky, arrogant and satisfied. I fucking loved it.

As I looked from his thick, floppy dick to that smug expression and back again, my own prick roused into an obvious lump in my jeans. Nick didn’t realise at first but then his eyes dropped to my crotch before glancing up at my face, the look he gave me conveying a smug uh huh, just as I thought. It was as if he wanted to be absolutely certain his size triggered a response from me and, confirmation gained, he felt he’d claimed a victory.

“Okay man, show’s over,” he said calmly, laying his forearms over his dick and concealing it from my view. “Stop boning up the place and get that kettle on.”

I hesitated, marvelling at the ease with which he accepted my obvious appreciation of him.

“Scoot!” he said, lifting one arm from his lap to gesture at the door.

And I complied, but not before cracking a huge grin. He’d given me a final glimpse of his cock as he’d lifted his arm to point and, unbeknownst to him, he’d also given away that upper hand. He was starting to get a hard on! Nick didn’t just enjoy attention when he was drunk; it aroused him even when he was sober and in full control of his faculties. It felt like useful information to know.

I sauntered into the kitchen to prepare some breakfast for us both. My mind explored this latest development like a child with a longed-for toy but, before I could work out exactly what it might mean, a bigger bombshell dropped.

Nick was out of the bath and getting dry. I began to transfer breakfast things from the counter to the kitchen table, which is where he’d left his mobile phone. An alert sounded and the screen lit up, revealing the words KEITH MOB and then the first two lines of a message in a small text box. Before I could catch the gist of it, Nick strode into the kitchen with a towel around his waist, plucked the phone up and walked out again.

But I’d had time to glimpse Keith’s salutation. What I read threw into doubt everything I thought I’d deduced about my blackmailer.

And everything I thought I knew about Nick’s role in things.

It said: Oi Oi Gaybait!

My mind span with confusion, trying to make sense of what I’d seen. Before I could study the problem, Nick returned to the kitchen to gather some clean clothing. Beneath his thick trunk and above those muscular calves, the white towel around his waist was a deliciously small concession to modesty, one that hinted at the dense globes of his arse cheeks and the length of meat hanging between his legs. I watched him for long enough to see that he was avoiding my gaze, but I caught his eyes flicking to me just as I looked away. All of a sudden, an awkwardness settled over our relationship like a heavy frost. For my part, it arose from a new sense of uncertainty and disorientation. But what made Nick seem so edgy? Was it what he’d given away in the bathroom? Or did he fear I’d seen Keith’s text message? Perhaps it was both those things.

Nick grabbed the jeans he’d pissed on the first night I’d been here, plus the tight white briefs, a tee shirt and some socks. He disappeared back to the bathroom to dress.

Alone again, my thoughts returned to Keith. Could he be the blackmailer? It definitely seemed possible given his pointed and derogatory text. Surely the ‘Gaybait’ term was a reference to my playing around with Nick, and the only person who had the inside scoop on that was the one who sees. The straightforwardness of this fact made my carefully-reasoned theory about Kelly’s involvement seem obsolete.

But why would Keith wave his knowledge in Nick’s face like that? Was he trying to make Nick paranoid about spending time with me, thereby making my instructions harder to follow and increasing the entertainment value? Or perhaps ‘Gaybait’ was some kind of in-joke between them, which meant Nick was more aware of events than he let on. Was it possible that Nick had been in on the plot the whole time? What could that mean?

I dropped my head into my hands and groaned out loud. Life had become İstanbul Escort so complicated lately. Nevertheless I quickly saw what I had to do. Yes, I could have questioned Nick right then and asked him what Keith’s text meant but I feared what that conversation might lead to. I didn’t think it was possible to open this particular Pandora’s Box a crack without the whole filthy mess spilling out. No, it wasn’t Nick I had to speak to but Keith. And there was no time like the present.

Unfortunately, Nick appeared to be operating on the same principle today. Fully dressed now, he strode back into the kitchen, sat down opposite me and began to pull on his boots.

“You ready to go?” he asked me in a way that was more statement than question. He was eager to get to Kelly’s house.

“Right now? Can you give me half an hour? There’s something I need to do.”

“Come on, mate. The sooner we go, the sooner you’ll be back.”

Nick downed the tea I’d made him, put a muffin in his mouth then stood. He pulled a zip-up hooded sweatshirt off the back of the chair and shrugged it on. It was light grey and the kind with the hemlines visible so it looked inside out at first glance. It was also more fitted than the tee shirt he wore underneath and it hugged his contours wonderfully when he zipped it up. The breadth of his chest and back were suddenly revealed, as were his thick shoulders and the relative tightness of his stomach. Below it, the fly of his old jeans bowed out over his junk and I imagined the snug white briefs beneath the denim, stretched taut around the heft of his nuts and his awesome cock.

Yet again, I let my own dick do the thinking. It would’ve had me follow Nick around all day long if I’d let it.

“Yep. Okay. Let’s go.”

I adjusted my hard on then stood. I felt reassured by the knowledge I’d at least get to see Kelly now. I could press her on any involvement in all this and either pin her or clear her as the blackmailer. I had a growing suspicion it would turn out to be the latter.

We left the Cottage, turned our cars around on the grass then headed down the drive with me in front. The narrow gravel strip wound through the manicured lawns and occasional copse of trees before linking up with the House’s own much grander driveway just inside the front gates. Here I pulled aside and let Nick’s Astra take the lead, then I followed him on the half-hour drive to Kelly’s house which, until recently, had been his home. He parked up on a sloping residential street and I found a spot just down from him. He waited for me on the pavement.

Kelly’s place sat near the middle of a long ascending terrace on the north side of the street. The houses there were higher than the road and separated from it by shallow front gardens atop a four-foot-high retaining wall. A small flight of steps led straight up to each front door.

Kelly’s house certainly stood out from the rest. A loving attention to detail was apparent in the restored sash windows and the beautifully pointed exposed brickwork of the facade. The front door was a striking telephone box red and fitted with gleaming brushed-silver furniture. The retaining wall had been reworked to provide a wide flight of steps that cut up through the little front garden on a bias, which a distant memory told me was good feng shui. The small garden had become a steep rockery filled with pretty alpine plants, still green and vital even on this dull winter morning. All in all, the place had fantastic kerb appeal.

“What a lovely house,” I said, then immediately regretted my lack of tact. It had been Kelly’s place long before Nick arrived on the scene, and he had no claim to it now they were separated.

Instead of lamenting his loss, Nick grinned. “Thanks, man.”

It took a moment to process his meaning, but then I understood. “This is all your handiwork?”

“Uh huh.” He gave a proud nod and crossed his beefy arms. “Kelly had the ideas, but I put in the graft.”

He certainly had skill, there was no denying it. Deep in my brain, cogs began to turn.

The front door opened. Nick looked up expectantly but it wasn’t Kelly who emerged on to the top step. It was a young man with dirty-blond hair and a pleasing face that would become only more handsome later in life. I reckoned he was in his early twenties now. His resemblance to both his sister and his father was undeniable. This was Kelly’s younger brother Chris. Despite the sombre circumstances, he beamed down at Nick with obvious affection and invited him inside. I followed.

I surveyed the hallway while Nick and Chris caught up with each other. The inside of the house seemed just as tasteful as the outside, with the same high-end finish evident everywhere. Nick was an unexpectedly talented craftsman.

At last, Chris invited us into the reception room overlooking the road. A tidy pile of boxes sat waiting.

“Kel and me have been sorting your stuff out,” Chris said.

He gestured towards the boxes then looked at his ex-future-brother-in-law, seeking his approval. I realised this impressionable young man idolised Nick and was struggling with the prospect of not having him around.

If Nick was aware of this, he was not in a frame of mind to recognise it now.

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