All in the Family

Back in my twenties, I had a very bad habit of developing crushes on my coworkers. I know they say not to shit where you eat but considering that my primary method of socialization is work, there weren't many other opportunities for me to meet people. Of course, I was on Grindr, but it was so much easier to grow emotionally attached to guys that I actually knew in person, who knew me and liked me in spite of my quirks and eccentricies.

Rylan was eighteen when he first hired in; he was going into his senior year of high school and for some reason, he was incredibly fond of me. I enjoyed working with him, but I didn't particularly think of him as anything more than a coworker that I got along with, even after he told me I was one of his best friends. He was attractive, with dark hair and an athletic physique; a jock who play basketball and football despite being about 5' 9."

I jokingly flirted with him, mainly because he went along with it. His dad often came in to get movies from the video store in our lobby; he was definitely a hot dad. I wanted him but knew that nothing would ever come of it. Rylan also had a younger brother named Tayler who was more conventionally attractive; he was often renting movies, but he was fourteen or fifteen and flew under my radar. Rylan had a surprisingly nice ass; round and plump. There was one night he needed a quarter for something; in exchange for the quarter, he let me rub his ass while he showed me pictures of it in football pants - his idea.

It wasn't until the night of our work Christmas party that everything changed. I got far drunker than I had ever been before; I'd started drinking wine, before switching to wine coolers. I ended up staying the night at my manager's house, but kept drinking, going from beer to very cheap rum, which I chugged from the bottle like it was water. At some point in the night, I blacked out. When I woke up, I was wearing different clothes and was using the dog bed as a pillow. I still felt drunk but had to go work; when I got there, Rylan saw that I wasn't feeling well and brought me water while I laid down in the back. He came to check on me, which I found incredibly touching. Before he went home that night, I was sitting next to him in one of the booths in the lobby, across from our coworker Clarissa; I put my head on Rylan's shoulder, and traced circles on his thighs, half out of it. He was content being my support system. That night, I realized that I not only liked him, but that I Liked him.

Over the next several months, we were basically attached at the hip. He'd swing by after basketball practice to make food and hang out with me. When we had slow days, we'd team up and clean together, laughing and having a great time. One day, Rylan said that for my birthday, he was planning on taking me to the Flint mall, where he would buy me a pair of shoes. He also planned on swinging by his mom's house to introduce me to her, which I found odd, but also sweet. We planned a trip to drive down to Indiana to see my mom; he wasn't perturbed when I told him that my autistic brother had a habit of coming out of the bathroom with just a shirt on, nor the fact that we would be sharing a bed. Was it possible that he liked me as more than a friend, too? I began to over-analyze every word, every look, every action; I was obsessed. Did he like me as a friend or as more than a friend? I must have driven my other coworkers insane; all I could do was talk about Rylan and try to get their opinions on whether we were friends or if he was harboring a not-so-secret crush on me.

I still smoked then - Camel Crush Menthols - and Rylan would often bum one; we'd sit out in my car and smoke together. It was nice to have someone to share my vice with, someone who wouldn't judge me or make me feel bad about such a stupid, filthy habit. As we continued to get closer, he had stopped mentioning girls that he had hooked up with; he'd only told me about one hookup - he had come in right after it had happened to tell me all about it - he told me that he couldn't cum from sex, that he just kept going until the girl complained that it was starting to hurt. He also claimed that he didn't precum, either. I was convinced that he couldn't cum because he wasn't straight, at least not fully, and fantasized about being the one to finally make him cum.

One night, he stopped in - high - to make food. The driver was on a delivery; we had the store to ourselves. I was in the back making sauce while he talked to me. At one point, I put my hands on his face and started to lean in to kiss him. My heart thundered in my chest as I watched him to see if he would pull away; he didn't. Just as our lips were about to meet, his phone rang and he pulled back. It was his dad, demanding that he hurry up and get home. I was disappointed that our moment had been wrecked, but I understood that he had to do what he was told. He'd never flat out said that his dad was abusive, but he had complained that his dad was strict with him, favoring his brother. I had heard rumors from other people that Matt - the dad - beat Rylan if he didn't win his football and basketball games.

Everything was a good as it could be until early spring. We were out in my car smoking when Rylan mentioned that he was going to prom with some girl named Marissa that he'd met while visiting his mom. My heart skipped a beat and then started to shatter in my chest as he continued to talk about how much he liked her. If he was straight, why was he not setting boundaries with me, I wondered. It was obvious that I was head over heels for him; I'd insisted on driving him home from work even though he only lived a block away. I had worked an open to close shift so that he could get out early to go see his mom for his birthday - only getting paid for seven of the twelve hours. Was he straight and I'd just projected me desires onto him, reading into every small word and action? Was he just a cool guy who was comfortable enough with himself that he didn't mind being best friends with the gay guy, especially when everyone at work was gossiping about us being lovers?

I taught him how to drive; he wasn't comfortable having his dad help him, which I completely understood. My stepdad had been emotionally and physically abusive; I would have rather been struck by lightning than try to learn how to drive - already an incredibly nerve-wracking experience - with him in the car, screaming at me and belittling me for my every mistake. I had Rylan drive us to Linwood, to the Cabin, where I bought us dinner. I knew it wasn't a date, but I allowed myself to enjoy it as much as I could. I liked being him, liked how he made me feel, how he looked at me like I was something worthwhile.

Things weren't the same once he got with Marissa. He was still kind to me, but there was a distance between us that hadn't been there before, especially once they started dating. It killed me to know he was with her, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him how I felt; I figured that he'd have to be incredibly blind not to see how much I cared for him, how I hung on every word he spoke.

At the end of summer, I learned that he was moving to Flint. I was the last person to find out, which made it even more painful. Not only was I losing Rylan, but he had also known for a while and not told me; how could he not tell me? We barely spoke on his last day; his final words to me as he was leaving were, "I'll see you around." He acted as though we had never been anything more than casual acquaintances, coworkers. I felt betrayed and heartbroken. As much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn't; I just wanted to go back to the blissful months when it had been he and I against the world.

Two years later, Rylan's dad - Matt - messaged me on Facebook to ask if he could borrow some of the chairs from our party room. He was hosting a graduation party for Tayler and needed the chairs for guests. I had been promoted to manager by then, and since the boss was out of town and we didn't have anything booked in our atrio, I happily agreed to let him borrow the chairs. I thought it was kind of strange when he gave me his phone number, especially since we were already talking on Messenger, but I brushed it off. Maybe it was easier for him to text, maybe he didn't have Wi-Fi at his house, maybe he was one of those people who hated technology.

Matt liked to date blondes. In all of the time that I'd known him, he hadn't been single for long. His current girlfriend at that point was a woman with a deep smoker's voice, her face deeply lined with wrinkles, as if she had never heard of moisturizer or skincare at all. I felt like he could do better than Leatherface - my catty nickname for her - but it wasn't my place to say anything, after all, we didn't know each other that well. He was one of my customers - one that was always nice - and the dad of my former friend, but we weren't friends, had never had an actual personal conversation.

A week or so after I'd let Matt borrow the chairs, he texted me to thank me - again. It really wasn't a big deal, but I appreciated his gratitude. I was having tire issues with my car; I needed a new tire and a new rim, but had no idea how to go about it. I mentioned it to Matt, figuring since he was a straight guy, he'd be able to advise me. He taught me about back spacing and offered to help me out, but the conversation soon changed to his relationship. He told me that Leatherface was withholding, that the first time she'd seen him naked, she'd been afraid of how big his dick was. They didn't really have sex, she wouldn't blow him, he was frustrated.

I thought it was odd that he was sharing all of that with me, but a part of me liked it, got a thrill at the inside glimpse into his sex life, getting to hear about his dick. It wasn't until he repeatedly kept asking me how big my rim was - even though I told him that the tire rim was sixteen inches - that he told me that his "rim" was eight inches. The picture he sent had my mouth watering and my pulse hammering in my head. Was this really happening? Was I being propositioned by Matt!?

He invited me to swing by after work to blow him, but I had to get up early the following morning; I had had to take the test to get ServSafe certified. I wanted to go blow him, that was surely the more exciting option, but I also wanted to do well on my test; I wanted to prove to my boss that I was a good fit for the manager position. In the end, I did the right thing and went home to study.

Over the next several months, Matt would contact me when Leatherface was at work. I wasn't excited about being a homewrecker, but I had spent so many years always doing the right thing; wasn't it time that I did something a little bit bad? After all, it wasn't like they were married or anything. Whenever he wanted me to sneak over, I had something going on; it was frustrating. I was shocked when he told me that he'd married Leatherface; why would he marry someone who didn't put out at all? Was he that afraid of being alone? I knew that he was in his mid-forties, but he was a good-looking guy, he worked out and had a nice physique; he could have any woman he wanted. I had always wanted to be with a straight guy, could this finally be my chance to fulfill that fantasy?

For a while after Matt and Leatherface got married he didn't text me. As much as I wanted to blow him, I wasn't sure how I felt about actually doing it now that he was married. It was easier to just jerk off to the picture he'd sent and the idea of it than to be the kind of person who willingly helped a man cheat on his wife. There was a part of me that rationalized that if she wasn't taking care of his needs, then I shouldn't feel bad about blowing him, but I also knew that that was my sex drive talking, not my conscience. Cheating is never justified.

One day in April, I was reading before work, when I got a text from Matt. He said that she was at work and that if I wanted to swing by before work, we could have some fun. By that point, there was eight months of pent up sexual frustration and anticipation; I decided that the guilt would be worth it and agreed. I parked at the pizzeria and walked down to his house, my heart thundering in my chest the entire time. He had told me to just walk in, but I knocked anyway, my manners winning out over my libido.

Matt stood in his foyer, tense with nerves. He looked good in a t-shirt and ball shorts. I had never been inside his house before, but it was surprisingly nice. I wasn't really sure what to say or do, I was just as nervous as he was. I was grateful when he went up a short flight of stairs and told me to follow him.

It was a small attic-type bedroom - no door - that I was pretty sure had once been Rylan's room, but now that he had and Tayler had moved out had been converted into Matt's man cave. There was a drum set in the corner, but no furniture. I stood there awkwardly while Matt showed it to me briefly, before we stood there in silence, looking at each other. I saw his hands go to the waistband of his ball shorts; my mouth started watering in anticipation.

"So...do I just drop my pants?" he asked, his voice steady despite his nerves.

"You can."

Matt inhaled deeply and looked up at the ceiling as he dropped his shorts. His soft cock was beautiful, but I new that it could be better if it was hard, and I knew just how to get it there. I dropped to my knees and started sucking it. Within seconds, he was hard, moaning as my mouth worked its magic. Why had we waited so long to do this? We could have been doing this for all these months!

He pulled out a tube of lube and squirted some into my hand. "I want you to finger me," he said, brooking no argument. I lubed up my pointer finger and tried to slide it into his hole, but he was standing up, his legs too close together for me to get it in without forcing it.

"I can't really get it in," I said, popping his cock out of my mouth. The salty taste of his precum lingered in my mouth, making me want more.

Matt propped a leg up on the banister, but it still wasn't enough for me to get inside of him. He was too tense, too nervous.

"Why don't you try lying down on the floor?" I suggested. I was fine with not fingering him, but if it was something he wanted, I would acquiesce.

Grudgingly, he crossed the room and lay on the floor, his legs spread wide. I lay down between his legs, my mouth immediately finding his leaking, rock-hard cock. My other hand trailed down to his hole and pressed inward. I felt him stretching around me, and he gasped as I slid in fully and touched his prostrate. "I've never had both at the time!" he gasped.

His moans and continued leakage of precum spurred me on. I had only given head a few times prior, but for the first time, I felt confident, empowered. With each moan and gasp I relaxed and let all of my fears and anxiety evaporate. It felt nice to not be in my head, wondering if I was doing it correctly, if I was giving pleasure; I knew that I was not only blowing his dick, but his mind.

After a few minutes, he told me to stop and went to stand by the railing again. "You can just suck me now," he said. All of the fingering had killed his erection, but a few seconds in my mouth brought it right back to where it needed to be. I grabbed his ass as I sucked him with wild abandon, loving every second of it. Why can't I always feel like this? I wondered. It was such a heady experience - pun intended.

As he got close, he told me that I could stop and finish him with my hand, but I didn't want to. I'd never let a guy cum in my mouth before, had never swallowed, but I wanted Matt's load so badly that I was willing to break my usual pattern. He groaned loudly as he came, filling my mouth with a thick, creamy, salty load.

Afterward, I washed my hands before joining him on the couch. He was petting a long-haired cat that had a scabby nose. "She's such a bitch," he said without preamble. "I don't know how much more of her shit I can take. I'm on antidepressants because of her."

I wanted to ask why he had even married Leatherface but knew that it wasn't my place. He didn't want judgment or criticism; he just wanted a listening ear.

When I left, he told me that he'd be in touch, that he wanted to do it again. I tried a few times, but he told me that the antidepressants had completely killed his sex drive, that he couldn't always get hard, and when he could, it took forever to cum I wasn't sure if he was making all of that up to let me down gently or if it was genuine; either way, I moved on.

At the end of the summer, Tayler moved back in with Matt and got a job at the pizzeria with me. He was nineteen and for the first time, I allowed myself to appreciate how attractive he was. I wasn't awkward around him, since I'd known him for roughly five years by that point. I didn't see myself developing a crush on him or anything, but maybe he wasn't as bad as Rylan had made him out to be, or maybe he'd just matured in the time since then.

As I was closing down the shop that night, I noticed that Tayler had left his W-4 forms on the counter; I texted him to let him know, figuring he'd walk down to get them, but instead, he asked me if I'd mind running them over when I left work.

When I got to the house, he let me in, and I was immediately on edge when I spotted Matt and Leatherface at the dinner table. Matt gave me cursory nod and then he and Leatherface left to go to the casino; I wasn't planning on staying, but Tayler asked me to help him fill out the forms. It reminded me of how I had helped Rylan do his taxes, and I felt a pang in my heart. Although I had moved on, accepted that whatever had been between was was over, I still missed him - as a friend. No one had ever threatened to fight someone for me before, had never had my back like Rylan had.

As we finished the forms, I stood up to leave, but Tayler asked me if I wanted to come up to his room. I smirked as we went up the short flight of stairs to the room where I had blown Matt back in April. The room now had a bed and a TV, the drum set gone. I wasn't really sure why Tayler was keen to hang out with me, but I was lonely and I figured stepping out of my comfort zone couldn't hurt. He turned on The 100 on Netflix and reached into his dresser. "This is the belt I use on girls," he told me, showing me a black leather belt.

"To spank them?" I asked, curious. Having heard the rumors about Matt's abusive tendencies, it wouldn't surprise me to learn that Tayler was a sadist in bed,

"No, to choke them."

"What?"

"Yeah. Girls love it when we're fucking and I tie it around their neck and choke them." He grinned impishly, which sent a surge of pleasure straight through my groin.

I couldn't imagine it. Not being able to breathe was one of my worst fears; the idea of someone choking me so aggressively during sex did not appeal to me in the slightest. Instead of getting turned on, I'd be having a panic attack, clawing desperately at the leather band, trying to pry it away from my neck.

Tayler moved to the bed and watched the show; I paced nervously, unsure of what to do. Should I sit down? Should I sit on the edge of the bed or in the chair? Should I just excuse myself and go home? I'd been working all day and was in need of a shower; I didn't want to be too close to Tayler in case I smelled.

"I've always wanted to try it, you know," he said, breaking my from my reverie.

"Huh?" I asked, shaking my head to clear it. "Try what?"

"Sucking dick. Getting my dick sucked by a guy."

My heart plummeted into my stomach as his brown eyes met mine. Was he really trying to get with me? Surely Matt hadn't told him about the amazing blowjob I'd given him; was there some defect in the family that made all three men at least a little bicurious? Was any guy completely straight anymore?

"What?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but I couldn't quite keep the surprise out of my voice. What in the hell is happening!? I wondered.

"Can I suck your dick?" he asked, his words a rushed jumble.

"Do you want to?"

My feet moved of their own volition, bringing me to the edge of the bed. As if on autopilot I climbed onto the mattress, shirking my leather jacket and letting it fall to the carpeted floor.

Tayler hesitated. "Maybe you could suck me?" he suggested, peering down at me from the head of the bed. I could tell that he was nervous; I found it incredibly cute. "I don't know if I'm ready to suck yet."

My hands went to the front of his jeans; he instantly got hard as I rubbed him, much to my satisfaction. Before I knew it, I had his dick poking out of the front of his boxers. It was a nice cock, about the same size as his dad's. I hoped that he would enjoy my mouth as much as Matt had.

I took him in my mouth, savoring the taste of him. I wasn't sure if it was the insanity of the situation, Tayler's attractiveness, or the fact that he looked enough like Rylan that if I squinted my eyes, they looked almost identical, but I quieted my mind and let my mouth take over.

After a few minutes, I popped his dick out my mouth. "How is it?" I asked, peering up at him through my lashes.

"It's good," Tayler replied, his lips parted.

"Is it the best you've ever had?" I was only half-joking when I asked it.

"Probably." He grabbed his phone and started tapping away at it. "Do you mind if I put on some porn? It might help me relax."

"I don't care," I replied, slipping him back into my mouth.

Before long, the sounds of my endeavor were blocked out by two women moaning. Of course he put on lesbian porn, I thought, rolling my eyes under my closed eyelids. Whatever gets him there, I suppose.

His precum was salty, and I lapped it up hungrily. I sucked him hard and fast, desperate for his load. I knew that it wasn't going to lead to a relationship or anything, but I was down to be his sexual release until he found a new girl to amuse himself with. It had been months since I'd been with anyone; I needed it.

After a while, he had me stop. "What's wrong?" I asked, wiping the saliva off of my lips with the back of my hand.

"It's not working," he said, his tone sad, embarrassed.

"You're rock hard," I pointed out, stroking his cock to prove my point.

"It feels really good, I just...I can't cum. I think I'm too nervous."

"That's totally understandable," I said, moving up to put my head on his chest. "This is new for you."

"Yeah. Thanks for understanding. Next time I think I'll do better, and hopefully suck you too."

"It's okay."

We cuddled for a few minutes, but then he pulled away. "My dad might be back soon," he said.

"Yeah." I got up and pulled my jacket and beanie back on. "I should get going anyway. I'm starving and I need a shower."

Tayler was a gentleman and walked me to the door, which I found surprising. I had heard so many rumors about him being extremely promiscuous and having sex with multiple girls in a day without showering or washing his dick in between.

I was concerned that work would be uncomfortable the following day, but we had a good time, laughing and being silly. I had promised him - just like I had promised his dad - that I wouldn't tell anyone about what had happened between us. I liked having a juicy secret that I couldn't tell another soul, it made me feel like for once I was actually living my life, not just going through the motions. Part of me wanted to tell him about my crush on Rylan and my hookup with his dad, but I knew that divulging that information would only cause problems.

The next time Tayler was supposed to work - Friday - he never showed up. I messaged him several times before he responded. He told me that his other job paid more and he wasn't coming back. I asked him if he was uncomfortable about what had transpired between us, but he assured me it was fine.

Tayler ended up moving to Davidson, the same town where Rylan lived with his new girlfriend.

A month or so after Terrence ghosted me, I wanted to hook up with someone, to put Terrence behind me. I got Matt to invite me over again. This time he took me into the bedroom and laid back on his bed. A sick part of me got a thrill at the idea of blowing him on the bed that he shared with Leatherface, but it also made me feel like a worse person than I already was.

I stripped down to a pair of sexy Andrew Christian underwear; they were basically a waistband and then the rest was fishnets. "You have to touch me this time," I purred as I climbed into the bed and pulled his cock free from his shorts. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and gripped my ass with both hands. I slid his soft cock into my mouth.

I sucked him for a few minutes, trying to get him hard, but when I stopped to ask if he was okay, he told me that the antidepressant side effects had gotten worse. I grudgingly climbed out of the bed and put my clothes on. If I was going to be a homewrecking slut, I at least wanted to make him cum; now I just looked like a desperate, idiotic slut.

I don't talk to Matt or Tayler anymore. Matt divorced Leatherface and then sold his house; I'm not sure where he moved to. Tayler has a kid now, but he blocked me on Facebook and Snapchat. Rylan is engaged to the girl he's been dating since he moved to Davidson; they have two sons together. Sometimes I think about reaching out to him, but what could I possibly say? We talked briefly post-Matt and Tayler; he assured me that he didn't hate me and that he wished me well. Part of me still longs to get Rylan, if only to complete the trifecta, but I don't see that happening.

To this day, I still don't know if Rylan ever liked me as more than a friend or if he had just gone along with everything because he had cared about me and hadn't wanted to hurt my feelings. I do know that he lied about not being able to cum; a year after he left, we hired a girl who had hooked up with him several times. She told me that he came quickly and that they had hooked up at his graduation party while Marissa - his then girlfriend - was there. Why he had lied to me, I have no idea, but I realize that none of it matters anymore anyway.

I am not proud that I helped a married man cheat on his wife, nor that I also ended up blowing his son, but I am grateful for the insane story. Since then, I have vowed that I will never play a part in committing adultery again. I would be absolutely devastated if I found out that my boyfriend/partner/husband had cheated or was cheating on me; I want no part in hurting anyone in that way.

At the end of the day, I chalk it up to an experience. I'm human - just like everyone else - and make mistakes. I'm older and wiser these days; I'd like to think that if the offer were to be presented now, that I would be strong enough and smart enough to politely decline. Even so, I can't quite bring myself to regret that it happened. Because of that experience I am more confident in my sexuality and my skills in the bedroom; if it weren't for Matt, I might not have learned just how much I love - and am good at - giving head. It's a skill that has served me well and has brought me many hours of satisfaction.