Quillon's Covert by Joseph Lance Tonlet, Louis Stevens Page B

chuckle as it brushed against Marty’s back. “Who says she’s missing out?”
    “Damn,” Martin said over Marty’s shoulder.
    Marty opened his eyes and followed Martin’s stare. “What?”
    “I’m not sure, but I think I should start preparing my condolences now for your future boyfriend,” Martin said with a warm laugh.
    When Marty blushed, Martin asked, “Is the water too hot? ’Cause that blush is eating you alive.”
    “Har har!” Marty snorted. “You think you’re funny, don’t you? I’ll have you know, I think there are plenty of guys out there who’ll be okay with it…maybe even like it.”
    Martin chuckled good-naturedly and wrapped his strong fingers around Marty’s neck, guiding him forward under the stream to rinse his hair. “Oh, I have absolutely no doubt they’ll be lining up.”
    Martin’s powerful, sure grip on Marty’s neck offered him a deep sense of security. It easily brushed aside any remaining thoughts of Marty’s summer screw-ups. Martin’s confident hold communicated so much; that single touch held their shared history, it held their wonderful memories, and most importantly, it held his dad’s devoted love.
    “I see practice is paying off.” Martin pulled him from under the water’s stream.
    “Huh?” Marty asked, lost in thought.
    A soapy hand ran down Marty’s firm back. “These muscles are impressive. But then you’re a Quillon, aren’t ya?”
    Marty’s chest swelled a bit when his dad’s hands glided over his back. “Hey, don’t dis my hard work with talk of your good genes. I put a lot of hours in on the field, and even more in the gym.” Marty smiled over his shoulder. “Not that I don’t appreciate your contribution, but I deserve some of the credit too, ya know.”
    His dad gave him a wink. “That you do, Ace. That you do.”
    Martin’s hands dipped lower, smoothed over his ass, and then lifted his heavy cheeks. Marty’s breath quickened as his dad’s fingers slid beneath his glutes, ran between his crack, and then moved to his taint.
    God, his dad was touching him, and thanks to his lingering erection, he didn’t even have to worry about Martin knowing how much he was enjoying it. He closed his eyes again, relaxed, and immersed himself in the feeling.
    When Martin perfunctorily ran a finger across his hairy hole, his knees briefly shook before he willed himself to simply relax again and enjoy the sensation. However, he couldn’t hold back the spontaneous squeak when his father’s thick finger edged just inside before quickly moving back along his taint.
    “Sorry ’bout that…just tryin’ to be thorough…didn’t realize things were quite that slick down there.”
    Marty’s breath shuddered, but he managed what he hoped was a convincing “No worries.” Before trying to burn the memory into his mind. Fuck, that had been nice!
    Martin knelt to do the backs of his legs and his breath drifted over Marty’s ass. “You’re getting to be a hairy bastard, like your old man.” And just like that, Martin’s hands retreated and his dad was upright, towering behind him again.
    Marty kept his eyes closed and could still feel Martin’s thick finger dancing over his hole. Fuck if his dick wasn’t begging for some attention. But just as he foolishly tried to reposition the water’s jet toward his crotch, Martin placed sturdy hands on his shoulders and turned him around carefully. The pounding water hit his back and rinsed the soapsuds from his skin.
    He was caught by surprise when his dad didn’t seem to think twice and dipped his soapy hand between Marty’s legs, just behind his balls, and built up a frothy lather. When Martin’s slick fingers cupped his nuts, Marty wasn’t sure if his legs would hold steady. He fondled them as he washed them with one hand and Marty’s cock bobbed with the attention.
    Marty fought to keep his face neutral, while also being wholly determined to enjoy his father’s touch.
    “These still get sore?”