*This is a work of fiction, though based on real situations. All characters are over the age of 18.*
My husband, Brett and I moved to Hawaii three years ago so I could pursue a dream job. We had long planned to retire here, but when this opportunity came, we both agreed it was too good to pass up. And besides, we had become tired of the rat race in Los Angeles. It was a win-win, though not without challenges.
We met 25 years ago, and it was love at first sight. There was so much in common, and the differences seemed to only complement each other, so we bonded almost instantly. Brett was everything I’d dreamed of for in a life-partner: smart, funny, tall, fit, hairy, sexy as hell, and a great lover. And given our passionate sex lives, I guess I fit the bill for him too. Our friends and family call us the perfect couple, and I tend to agree. I mean, how many of us are lucky to find their soulmate? He’s my best friend and I can’t imagine life without him. It’s not like we don’t argue, but we always follow the rule ‘don’t go to bed angry’. We just work.
But…
There’s always a but, isn’t there?
Brett was a lot more sexually experienced than me before we met, and the fact that he’s ten years older is only a part of it (I was 25 and he was 35). To be honest, I was a bit afraid of intimacy and had only a handful of sexual partners before him. I’d been pretty chubby as a kid and although I lost the weight in high school and maintain a pretty fit physique, the emotional baggage stayed with me for years and still impacts my self-image Add in the fact that I reached puberty later than most of my peers and ended up with a very average 5” inch cock and I’m a bit insecure as a sexual being.
Brett made me feel special, sexy, and desired from our very first date. It took a few of those before I was willing to go all the way, but he proved to be a patient and caring lover who opened up the world of sexual joy in a way no previous partner had done. I learned so many things from him (including that I’m a very talented bottom) and taught him a few tricks of my own (note same comment…).
Our sex life was terrific until about four years ago – almost exactly a year before we moved to Hawaii. We maintained a loving intimacy, but Brett seemed less and less interested in sex. Intercourse went from every day to every few days to every few weeks. And it slowed to just a trickle about a year into our life in Honolulu. I became suspicious that he was cheating on me but could find no evidence (and I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I snooped…). When I brought up our lack of sex, he brushed it off as just part of getting older. I was dubious, but the love was clearly still there and when we did have sex it was still amazing. So, I reverted to the near addiction to porn I’d had prior to our relationship. It never occurred to me to cheat, though I did have fantasies.
Brett and I have long enjoyed checking out hot guys. I never thought it meant anything except that we were horny, and it was a source of harmless amusement. But as our sex lives dwindled, a different undercurrent developed, though neither of us put it into words. I was yearning for new sexual experiences – to somehow catch up on what I had missed in my youth. Lord knows there’s an abundance of eye-candy in Hawaiʻi, with hot, ripped guys seemingly everywhere, and rarely wearing more than board shorts. I had always been drawn to older, hairy, muscular guys, like Brett, but in Hawaiʻi I found myself more and more attracted to younger, smooth-skinned surfer types, in particular Asians and Pacific Islanders. Part of my own aging factor? Who knows, but it was becoming an obsession.
We live in a quiet neighborhood in Honolulu, filled with mostly older couples. It suits us well, but it can feel a bit isolating at times, especially since we’re one of the few couples who aren’t already retired. So, it was nice when a couple around my age with a teenage-looking son moved in two doors down from us a couple months back. We quickly became friendly and get together for drinks and pupus every couple weeks and walk our dogs together most evenings.
Wayne is a total Asian Daddy – late 40s or early 50s but already rocking silver hair he keeps in a buzz-cut hair, chiseled features, about 6’2” and built like a linebacker. It came as no surprise to learn he played football in high school and college and still serves in the Navy. His wife, Marcy, is of Italian descent and is what I can only describe as mousey. Although Wayne is definitely hot, it’s their son Ethan who ties my stomach in knots whenever I see him.
We learned that Ethan just turned 21, even though he looks 17, and is living at home while finishing up his degree in business at the University of Hawaii. He is everything I lust after in the surfer culture here: smooth skin bronzed by hours in the sun (and of course his Chinese heritage), absolutely ripped (seriously, not an ounce of fat), and a complete lack of modesty about his body or concern about people staring. Like I do…way too often. And who can blame me when his usual attire is shirtless and a pair of board shorts that dip down to reveal the hint of muscular butt cheeks? Brett has actually humorously accused me of drooling, which probably isn’t an exaggeration. And based on the small smirk Ethan wears when I see him, he’s caught me at it too. Dammit!
I’m home alone one evening a few days ahead of my big 5-0 birthday. Brett has volunteered for a local non-profit and they meet Monday evenings. I’d just finished tidying up from our quick dinner before Brett had to leave when the doorbell rings. I’m surprised to find Ethan outside, wearing the usual board shorts and a zip-up hoodie mostly closed but still revealing his tantalizingly smooth neck and upper chest. I nearly have to shake my head to break the spell.
“Howzit, Mr. Moore! Can I come in? I was here earlier and your husband told me to come back around 7pm and chat with you. Is this an OK time?”
“Sure, Ethan, but please call me Jason. Mr. Moore makes me feel even older than I actually am.” I open the door for him, and as he passes I hear him mumble something that sounds like, “you’re not that old.” What does that mean? And what would Brett want him to discuss with me? I can’t help but glance down as he walks into the house. Damn his ass looks fine in those shorts, even with the hoodie partially covering it.
Get a grip, Jason: you’re the same age as his dad! Shit, I am old…
I close the door and gesture for him to sit on one of the counter stools at the kitchen island. “Can I get you something to drink? I have a couple of soft drink options, but they’re all diet. Maybe a beer?”
“A beer would be great,” he replies with a bit too much enthusiasm. Strange – he seems nervous. But I shrug it off and grab us two bottles of Longboard Lager, one of my favorites.
I sit down across from him on another stool. “Cheers”, I offer, and we clink bottles before taking a long sip. We shoot the shit about his school, surfing, and whatever else comes to mind. But eventually curiosity gets the better of me, so I ask, “Ethan, what did you want to discuss with me?”
“Well, my mom…” he stammers. What is making him so nervous? He clears his throat, takes another swallow of his beer, then continues with more confidence. “My mom told me I need to earn my own cash this summer, so I was wondering if there’s anything I can do to help you guys around the house. I’m pretty handy, and don’t mind getting dirty.”
Why did the pitch of his voice just lower?
“Maybe yardwork, cleaning, or walking your dog? I’ll do anything.” His beautiful brown eyes are now looking directly into mine, and I can feel myself getting aroused. How had I never noticed those long lashes before? And is he smirking again?
This is like some sort of cheesy gay porn set-up. “I’ll do anything…” Jesus, Jason…you’re acting like a dirty old man. But I’m also confused. If he already discussed this with Brett, why would he need to chat with me? And why hadn’t Brett mentioned anything before heading out for the night? Very odd.
I’m flustered and can feel my cheeks flush. “Um…” I stammer, “Brett does the yard work for us, and we already have a housecleaner. So, I’m not really sure what we can offer you. I’m confused why Brett didn’t just tell you that himself.”
Ethan is acting more confident now, his mouth curled in a smirk and his eyes twinkling with mirth. He tilts the beer bottle up to finish the last few sips, and I’m transfixed: his exposed neck, the beautiful, smooth skin, the large bicep that his snug sweatshirt only enhances, the way his prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks, his long fingers gripping the bottle. I want to run, but I can’t stand up or he’ll see that I’m absolutely rock-hard. But he already knows.
“There are other ways I can help around the house, Jason,” he murmurs sexily. The hairs on my arms are standing up like I was just electrocuted. Ethan stands up and slowly unzips his hoodie revealing the deep ravine between his defined pecs followed by the most ripped 8-pack and V-line I’ve ever seen, and leading to an impossibly small waist. He’s like one of those young bodybuilders who post thirst-traps on TikTok.
He steps around the counter and turns my stool out so I’m facing him. His hands reach for mine and places them on his hard chest, encouraging me to push the hoodie off his shoulders. As if in a trance, my hands slowly come back to his bulging pecs, my palms grazing over his large, erect nipples, earning a small growl from his throat. Or was that me? I look up and find his eyes locked on mine and I’m surprised to find an arousal matching mine. He actually seems to want this.
“Ethan, we shouldn’t do this. I’m married, and you’re…well, I’m old enough to be your father.” My betraying hands continue to feel his bulging pecs. “Hell, I’m almost exactly the same age as your dad.” I trail off as he places his strong, warm hand on my cheek.
“Jason, do you think my dad is hot?” I nod, confused. “Don’t get creeped out, but I do too.” He chuckles as my jaw drops. “I mean, I wouldn’t do him…gross. But I’ve always had a thing for older men. And I’ve seen the way you look at me. You want me too.” He reaches down to grasp my clearly erect cock and licks his lips without losing eye contact.
“But…but how is this about earning money?” I’m grasping for ways to stop this, but I already know I’m lost. “I mean, are you prostituting yourself? I…I’ve never paid for sex, and I can’t start now.” Ethan surprises me by leaning in and pressing his moist lips against mine, both hands cupping my head gently but firmly so I can’t pull away, his tongue quickly darting into my mouth tantalizingly. He pulls back with a wide grin, glancing down at the dark wet spot now staining my khaki shorts. I’m leaking so much precum it’s made it way through my underwear. He chuckles huskily.
“How is this any different than getting paid for yard work? Except that we’d both enjoy it a hell of a lot more.” How did a 21-year-old get this cocky? But I have to admit that I’m harder than I’ve been in years. “And besides, the sex isn’t about money…I want you regardless. But it would provide a cover, so my parents don’t get suspicious. I mean, they know I’m gay, but probably wouldn’t be too happy with my seducing an older, married neighbor.”
Those last words shake me out of my trance. “And what about my husband? I’ve never cheated on him in our 25 years together. I just…I can’t do that to him.” He just laughs. “Ethan, how is that funny?” I groan, exasperated.
“Do you remember what I said when I first got here? Your husband told me to come talk to you at around 7pm. Timed for shortly after he left for a meeting that will last, like, three hours? So…” He continues to smirk at me, but I’m more baffled than ever. Then it suddenly dawns on me.
“He knows? He…he knows you were going to…to offer yourself to me?” That couldn’t be right. Brett had never once indicated he was open to anything like this. I had never mentioned being interested in, what, cheating on him? Oh, I mean sure, we’ve explored some (very) tame cuckolding fantasies during sex. But it was just that: fantasy. And yet, here I am sitting in our kitchen with a stunningly beautiful young man standing between my spread legs.
Oh my god…he pushes my legs apart so that his crotch is pressing against mine. And he’s hard too. “He more than knows, he suggested it. Something about an extra-special birthday present for your big day?” He leans in so his mouth is right by my ear and whispers huskily, “Don’t you think I’m extra-special, Jason?” His tongue lashes out at my earlobe, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes.
Jesus, Brett, what have you done? I can’t…I can’t not. I need this so much. And this hot young man is offering himself to me. Maybe it really is for money, but I’m beyond caring at this point.
*To be continued*