In the first installment of Summer Seduction

The week dragged by in a torturous haze of half-hard anticipation and crushing guilt. Every time I heard a lawnmower start in the neighborhood, my pulse spiked, only to crash when I realized it wasn’t Brandon’s. I kept replaying the shed in my mind—the tight, humid dark, the way he’d dropped to his knees like it was the most natural thing in the world, and how easily I’d let him. I told myself it was a one-time mistake. A moment of weakness.

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But my body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

My son, Jeremy, had been spending time with his girlfriend, Emily, around the pool and not inviting our neighbor over, which meant I barely caught more than a distant glimpse of Brandon. Once, when he was taking out the trash shirtless, our eyes met across the fence. He gave me that same cocky little head tilt and slow smile that made my stomach flip. I quickly looked away, pretending to be very interested in the weeds at my feet.

I was forty-two years old, for fuck’s sake. I should have more self-control than this.

Saturday finally arrived, hot and bright. Jeremy had left early for a day trip with Emily, telling me he wouldn’t be back until late. I was in the kitchen nursing a coffee when the familiar roar of the lawnmower ripped through the quiet morning.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I walked to the bathroom upstairs like a man in a trance, already knowing what I’d find when I parted the blinds.

Brandon was pushing the mower across our front lawn in nothing but those same red rugby shorts, earbuds in, muscles flexing under the morning sun.

Sweat already glistened on his skin. He looked up toward the house as if he could feel me watching, and even from this distance, I could see the knowing smirk that curved his lips. He didn’t wave. He didn’t need to. We both understood why he was here.

I stayed at the window longer than I should have, my hand absently pressing against the growing bulge in my shorts. The guilt was still there, gnawing at the edges, but it was no match for the raw hunger Brandon stirred in me.

When he finished the front lawn and disappeared around the side of our house toward the backyard, I forced myself downstairs. My heart hammered as I stepped out onto the patio just as he killed the engine.

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Brandon wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, his chest rising and falling. Up close again, he looked even better than I remembered—sun-bronzed skin, faint tan lines peeking above those low-slung red shorts, and a visible sheen of perspiration tracing down his abs. He pulled out his earbuds and fixed me with that same intense stare.

“Morning, Michael,” he said casually, like he hadn’t sucked me off in my shed just days ago. “Lawn’s looking good.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “You didn’t have to do the whole front. I could’ve helped.” The words felt ridiculous the second they left my mouth. We both knew why he was really here.

“Helped?” Brandon stepped closer, the scent of fresh-cut grass, sweat, and something unmistakably him hitting me. A mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” His eyes flicked down to the obvious tent in my pants, then back up. “Jeremy’s gone all day, right?”

“Yeah,” I rasped, my throat dry. “All day.”

Brandon didn’t waste another second. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his red rugby shorts and shoved them down, kicking them aside along with his shoes. His cock sprang free, already half-hard and curving upward. “Last one in the pool sucks the other off underwater,” he challenged with a wicked grin, then turned and dove cleanly into the deep end.

I stripped faster than I’d ever moved in my life, my own cock throbbing as I hit the water. The cool shock did nothing to calm the fire in my veins.

Brandon surfaced right in front of me, water streaming down his face and chest. Before I could speak, he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a hungry kiss, his tongue pushing past my lips while his other hand wrapped around both our cocks underwater, stroking them together.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all week,” he breathed against my mouth. He spun me toward the side of the pool, pressing my chest against the warm tiled edge. I felt his slick cock nudge between my ass cheeks under the water, teasing my hole as he bit down on my shoulder.

One hand gripped my hip hard while the other reached around to jerk me off in long, slow pulls. The water made everything feel slippery and urgent. When he finally pushed inside me in one jarring thrust, I groaned loud enough that I prayed the neighbors weren’t home.

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Drilling my son’s new summer friend

I noticed him quite by accident … the first time. Now, I feel like some kind of creeper. Peering through the blinds in my bathroom whenever I hear the lawnmower fire up next door.

He is pure sex.

Something I suspect he is well aware of, despite his youth, given his shirtless, confident stride as he mows a perfect pattern in his parents’ lawn.

When my son invites him over to go for a swim in our pool, my desire grows.

He’s even more beautiful up close.

And he’s offered to mow our lawn if I help him sort out our lawnmower in the privacy of the shed. He waits until my son leaves before he makes his true intentions clear.

He knows I’ve been watching him.

I noticed him quite by accident … the first time. Now, I feel like some kind of creeper. Peering through the blinds in my bathroom whenever I heard the lawnmower fire up next door.

He was pure sex.

Something I suspect he was well aware of, despite his youth, given his shirtless, confident stride as he mowed a perfect pattern in his parents' lawn.

We'd been in our new house for nearly three weeks, and my son, home from college, had yet to wander over there and introduce himself to our hot young neighbor.

I was desperate for Jeremy to make friends with the guy so I could see him up close. Hear his voice. Look into his eyes. Maybe catch his scent. All the things I shouldn't be thinking about.

"Dad," Jeremy called as he knocked on the bathroom door. "Did you die in there?"

"Just finishing up." I flushed the toilet and turned on the tap to simulate using the bathroom for its intended purpose. I'd only come in there to watch through the blinds.

A full-on Peeping Tom.

I flung open the door. "Sorry. Constipated. Ultimately unsuccessful."

"Gawd, Dad. Way too much information." Then he disappeared into the bathroom. It was the only bathroom in the house with a shower. And it was soon running.

Nearly half an hour later, Jeremy emerged wearing his board shorts for the pool.

"You going in the pool?" I asked.

"Yup."

"Why didn't you shower after you were in the pool? To wash off the chlorine?"

"I can shower again."

I rolled my eyes. Kids were useless when it came to saving money on hot water. It seemed that even at the age of twenty-three, Jeremy hadn't received the budgeting memo.

I worked two jobs to make ends meet and pay Jeremy's college fees. His mom, my wife, died six years ago. Taken out by breast cancer. I became a single dad that day.

Dating was non-existent. I spent too much time working. I didn't feel like I could offer a woman the attention she deserved. Maybe once Jeremy finished college and moved out.

"Why don't you ask the guy next door to join you in the pool? Might be a nice gesture."

There, I'd straight up asked for what I wanted. I just needed Jeremy to follow through and bring him into our yard, where I could enjoy him up close.

"I talked to him yesterday. He's only eighteen. Just graduated from high school." Jeremy shrugged. "Not sure I want to hang out with him. We'd have nothing in common."

Eighteen.

Jeezus.

He didn't look like he was eighteen. He was lean but muscular, like he worked out. Messy, dark blond hair that hung in his eyes. He would toss his head often to see as he mowed.

"You can't know that without talking to him more."

Jeremy sighed. "All right. I'll ask Brandon to come over."

Brandon.

It gave me a thrill knowing his name. My anticipation grew exponentially. Not sure what to do with all that pent-up attraction. I'd never reacted to a guy this way before.

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Jeremy turned on his heel and headed for the front door. Five minutes later, he had Brandon with him. Brandon was wearing snug-fitting, red rugby shorts and carrying a towel.

"Brandon, this is my dad."

I froze in place. Up close, he was even more beautiful.

Brandon smiled at me. "Do I call you Dad?"

"No, sorry." I extended my hand. "You can call me Michael." He gripped my hand and gave it a firm shake. One that was confident. He lingered with my hand longer than expected.

"It's very nice to meet you," he said, then turned to Jeremy. "Lead the way."

Within minutes, they were having a blast in the pool. Chucking a ball around and ducking one another under the water. They interacted like they'd known each other for years.

Lunch rolled around, and the two of them jogged into the kitchen, dripping water from their hair onto my clean floor. Jeremy got busy in the kitchen making those sandwiches.

I leaned against the kitchen counter and watched them with one another. Brandon kept giving Jeremy furtive glances. You could see the attraction building there.

Seemed my sultry guy next door might be gay.

I busied myself cleaning up after Jeremy's sandwich-making, all the while making sure to covertly glance in Brandon's direction. His skin was so sun-kissed, I knew it would be warm.

To have my lips on it would be sublime.

That's when he caught me staring. And he didn't look away. Just cocked his head as he carried on eating his sandwich. A glob of mayonnaise escaped and coated his upper lip.

My knees nearly buckled when he locked onto my eyes and slowly licked it away. I turned and went back to washing some dishes. I was being delusional. It meant nothing.

As I put a mixing bowl in the drying rack, I tried to bring life back to normal.

"I need you to cut the lawn this afternoon," I said to Jeremy.

"Dad … I told you I'm visiting Emily this afternoon. I told you days ago."

I turned to face them. "How about tomorrow?"

"Dad. I'm off on school vacation. Let me relax a little, would you?"

Brandon straightened up in his chair. "I can do it. I love mowing."

I smiled. "See that, Jeremy … enthusiasm."

"Which means, I'll leave Brandon to it." He clapped his hand on Brandon's shoulder. "Thanks, buddy. You've saved me from incredible tedium."

I questioned my parenting skills when my son rose from the table and left his plate behind. Brandon collected both and brought them over to the sink. He looked as if he was about to wash them.

"Leave those," I said. "I can do them."

"I don't mind."

"You're already mowing my lawn. The least I can do is wash a couple of plates."

Brandon shrugged, his bare shoulders glistening with a sheen of nearly washed-off sunblock. He and Jeremy had been in and out of the pool in between sunning themselves.

Share The Black Velvet Room

I'd gone out to sit at the table under an umbrella and pretended to read. In reality, I was enjoying the sight of Brandon lying on a lounger with his eyes closed. Occasionally, scratching his stomach and putting his arms above his head, exposing his furry underarms.

My gaze had wandered. From his chin, around his nipples, and down his firm abs to the obvious, ample package hidden beneath his shorts.

"Michael?"

I snapped back to reality. "Sorry, what? I was daydreaming. It's the heat."

"I asked you where the lawnmower is."

"Right." I cleared my throat. "It's in the shed in the back corner of the yard."

There was that head tip again. "Will you meet me out there? Show me how it works."

"There's nothing special about it. You should be able to figure it out."

"That's not what I meant." Brandon tugged on the edge of my shirt. "Jeremy will be gone soon, and I might need some help before I mow your lawn for you."

Jeezus.

My heart rate sped up. Was he implying what I thought he was implying?

"I've seen you looking at me from your upstairs window."

Oh, my god.

What did I say to that? At eighteen, he was so young. I shouldn't be craving him the way I did. Brandon went from tugging on my shirt to finding the band of my shorts and clinging to it.

"Okay, I'm off," Jeremy shouted from the front entry, then the front door closed.

"And he's off," Brandon said and moved closer to me. "Shed? Yes, or no?"

I swallowed hard. There was no ambiguity. He wanted something from me I'd never shared with another man. I'd fantasized about it, but never found anyone appealing.

Until now.

And he had come along in the body of a muscular young twink.

"I'll show you the shed."

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