Blake Wex writes

Happy endings

Cody

…and Grant

Hi Guys, Blake here. Just a quick word before you go ahead. Writing takes time, a lot of time, and it’s something I love doing so I’d like to thank all of those who are supporting me with their paid subscriptions. I know it’s not possible for everyone and I’m certainly not judging. Alternatively, the eBook of my Christmas at White Swallow story is available through at $1.99 (I recommend the Smashwords option). thank you, Blake.

Hi, maybe my name sounds familiar to you: Cody Fanelli. The Dermakeep commercial from a few years ago? You know, the spotted teenager in the acne ad? No, well, that was me. More recently, last year, actually, I was the face (and body) of BeachMates, the swimwear brand. Well, I guess people don’t pay much attention to actors’ names when it comes to commercials, but since I’m about to star in the next season of Aberglide 333, I’m pretty sure Cody Fanelli will soon become a household name.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being cocky; in fact, I’m a pretty nice guy: I’m finishing my master’s degree in art and drama, I work at my family’s restaurant almost every evening, I work out at the gym, and I do a lot of outdoor sports and hikes when the weather allows.

It’s summer here in Aberglide, which is fantastic: the sea is warm, it’s hot without being muggy, it’s the holidays, and I have the apartment all to myself because my roommates are back home for the holidays. I grew up in this city and I just love it.

So, a few days ago…

I had been off work the night before, and Jenny spent it at my place. Jenny isn’t my girlfriend, but we sleep together every now and then: it’s a good fit for both of us, no strings attached, no jealousy, just some fun.

That morning I woke up horny and wanted to pick up where we left off the night before, but Jenny had to leave early to go to the beach with some friends, so I stayed in bed a little longer, naked under the sheets, Jenny’s scent still lingering. I had the whole day free ahead of me, and I was off again in the evening, so I had planned to meet up with some friends later on.

Since I was in the mood I was about to start wanking when I heard the doorbell ring.

“Give me a minute,” I yelled, hoping the person would wait. I wasn’t expecting any delivery, so it could be either a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses or a surprise visit from someone I knew.

The doorbell rang again, followed, a moment later, by my phone.

“Coming!” I checked that my hard on wasn’t too obvious, put on a pair of swimming shorts BeachMates had gifted to me and went to open the door.

It was Grant. This surprised me because he rarely came to my house without my mum, unless it was to pick me up for a hike or something, and we didn’t have anything planned for that day.

“Hi, Grant, come in.” The way he was looking at me made me worry a little. “Did something happen? Is mum okay?” Of course, mum was the first person I thought of!

“Don’t worry, mum’s fine. Do you have a moment?”

“Sure, wait in the lounge, I’m going to make some coffee.”

Grant continued to look at me with that beaten-dog look. His eyes fell on my torso and then my shorts. I looked down hoping I wasn’t being obscene, but luckily my hard on had subsided, my cock nicely hidden by the folds of fabric.

“Yeah, you’re in great shape,” he said with the same monotone he had used to say yes to my offer of a coffee.

“I have to: filming starts soon.”

“Sure...” he didn’t add much and moved to the lounge.

If you don’t know, Aberglide 333 is a TV series that follows the daily lives of a group of lifeguards on Aberglide Beach. There’s action, romance, and, of course, plenty of exposed flesh. It’s no Shakespeare, but for someone like me: a 24-year-old son of a restaurateur who hasn’t even finished his studies, it can be a major breakthrough. Naturally, I had to double on my gym time as well as sharpen my acting skills.

Jenny likes that, not that I’m huge: I have to look naturally toned, but I’m definitely in the best shape I’ve ever been. By the way, not just Jenny: Maria likes it too, and Gena doesn’t mind it either...oops!

From my mother, I got that Italian look; you know: the dark hair and olive skin. From my dad, my height, six foot one, and green eyes, and that’s all I can thank him for. Period.

I returned to the living room with two mugs and sat on the couch at the other end from Grant. I passed him the coffee and turned to look at him, one leg propped up on my knee.

I’ve known Grant since I was sixteen. My mum initially introduced him to me as a friend, but since this friend seemed to be hanging out quite a lot, mum soon came out and told me she was dating again and that Grant was her new boyfriend.

I was happy for her; she deserved it: my dad was a complete shit, he cheated on her, was controlling and verbally abused us. Finally, when I was about ten, she found the courage to send him packing, divorce, and start a new life, just the two of us. I haven’t heard from that bastard since.

Not long after my mum told me that Greg was her new man, he moved in with us. I liked him and I knew he made my mum happy. I never called him dad because that word had become tainted for me, but for all intents and purposes he acted like one. Anyway, when I turned 18, I left home to go live with some mates. I’d always been pretty independent; I suppose as a form of defence against dad, I learned to be self-reliant pretty quickly. And I’d never been a slacker, which meant I was more than happy to work a few shifts at Uncle Tony and mum’s restaurant. My looks helped too, and with attending acting school, I was able to do a few commercials to make ends meet.

“So, what’s up?” I still wasn’t sure why Grant had come to visit me, or why he seemed so awkward.

He kept looking at me, his eyes roaming my body. He seemed particularly fixated on my chest, and I figured it was because he didn’t want to look me in the eye.

“Did you and mum argue?” Since he said mum was fine, I thought that might be the reason for his visit.

“Oh, no, no,” it was as if I’d woken him. “Actually, it’s mum who sent me here to talk to you.”

That was bizarre. What was going on? I stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

We had a party for Grant just the week before, a big do at the restaurant for his fifty-fifth birthday. He wears his age well. Short blond hair with a few grey streaks, a trimmed beard, greyer than his hair, blue eyes, and a fit body for his age. Before the birthday party, we were all at the beach for a picnic, and I noticed some women laying next to us checking him out. He’s tall, not as tall as me, but thereabout, with broad shoulders and a powerful chest covered in a light fuzz. His abs aren’t what they used to be, at least that’s what he says; there’s a certain softness to them, and around his waist, but like I said, I wouldn’t mind looking like that when I’m his age. Actually, that’s why I was checking him out on the beach: because of my looks, people might think I’m a bit shallow, but I’m actually quite philosophical, and the fact that it was his birthday and seeing his body, made me think about the passage of time and wonder what would happen to me, to my body.

I waited.

“Look, this was her idea. She thinks,” he paused, again not looking me in the eye. “... She thinks you might be gay.”

I stared at him in disbelief. I’m sure he could still smell Jenny’s sex on me!

“What? Why does she think that?”

“Look, it’s not a problem, she’s cool with it, she just thought it would be better to talk about it between us, man to man.”

I couldn’t tell if Grant was embarrassed or as baffled as I was, but I bet he would have preferred to be anywhere else rather than there on that couch talking to me.

“But I’m not gay! Where did she get the idea?”

I didn’t care if my mum, or anyone else for that matter, thought I was gay but I wanted to know how she came to think that.

“Girls. You’ve never brought a girl home, only your friends, and you know, most of them are gay. You share this apartment with Ben, you seem close...”

OMG! So, I’m studying art and drama. Stereotypes exist for a reason, and it wouldn’t be a lie to say that many of the male students in my course are in fact gay. And I have no problem with that; some have become my mates; Ben is probably my best friend, actually. And I’m cool with that, more than cool: some of these guys are incredibly fit, but since they’re out of reach for girls… enters Cody Fanelli!

It suits me just fine; it’s a win-win situation. It never crossed my mind to have sex with any of them. We shared a few drunken snogs, but that was all for a laugh, at least for me. The last time it happened, Gena and Jenny were there egging us on. I don’t know if the other guy was turned on, but so what?

I tried to explain it to Grant in fewer words.

“But why didn’t you ever bring any of the girls home?” He seemed to agree with my mum on this point, he almost sounded disappointed, as if their intuition had been somehow faulty.

“You know about Dad, right?” Grant nodded, but added, “What about him?”

“Dad was a dick, he treated mum like she was less than nothing!”

Grant shuffled over and placed a comforting hand on my knee.

“Well, I don’t want mum to think I treat women the same way. That’s all.”

My dad would come home, often drunk, and brag in front of me or my mum about his latest shags. He made an effort to choose words that made my mother feel as insignificant as possible, laughing viciously. He was proud of his looks, of his conquests. He was a real bastard, and I swore I’d never be like him.

That’s why I prefer to keep my love life close to my chest. For now, I just want to have fun; and believe me, I’m having it! When I find the right girl and want to settle down, I’ll introduce her to my mum, but not before. She’s also Catholic, not that we ever went to church when I was little, but toward the end of her relationship with dad, she found comfort in God, and I thought she might disapprove of my promiscuity, she’s never been closed-minded, but, you know... I just want to protect her, I suppose. So, yeah, I keep myself to myself.

Grant kept looking at me while I was explaining where I was coming from. His hand continued to gently caress my knee. His blue eyes stared at me, the green shirt he was wearing making them stand out even more than usual, or maybe it was because my explanation had made him a little emotional. I also moved closer to him, placing my hand on the couch by the side of his knee. He was wearing blue shorts, his legs were tanned and strong, a velvet layer of light hair covering his shins.

I’m glad Grant came into my life; for my mum, of course: I know he makes her truly happy, but also for me. In some ways, he’s the father figure I never had.

When I told him I wanted to protect my mother from my promiscuity, his eyes widened as if he were surprised or amused. I couldn’t read him.

We hugged, it was as if I was comforting him as much as he was looking out for me.

“So, you’re sure, huh?” his whisper found its way into my ear, soft and attentive.

“I’m sure, Grant, you can tell her.”

“You know, she just wanted you to know it’s okay for her, for us, as long as you’re happy.” Grant’s beard tickled my earlobes as he spoke, and I felt his arm tighten around my back. His hands, flat against my bare skin, moved in slow, gentle movements.

I did more or less the same thing with him, in what to me was just two men close to each other reassuringly confirming that they were both okay. The back of Grant’s shirt was stuck to his skin; I could feel the dampness, from where he’d leaned against the couch, under my fingertips.

“In a way, it’s a shame,” he said those words with the same reassuring gentleness as before, but they made me stop abruptly. Suddenly, that embrace began to take on a completely different meaning. His hands on my bare skin had moved to my waist, just above the elastic band of my swimming shorts. I froze and retreated, but we were still close. Maybe I misunderstood.

“Sorry?” My heart was pounding in my chest.

“Look, Cody, when I said everything would be okay if you were gay, I meant it. More than okay, actually,” he put his hand back on my knee. He wasn’t being scary or aggressive at all, but I felt like the tables had turned, that my hypothetic coming out was turning into Grant’s opportunity to reveal his true self.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline, and it was already my second coffee, but I felt my body tingling with a tense anticipation. Was I getting it all wrong? And, if I was right, what about mum? Oh fuck, poor mum!

“What are you trying to say?” Now I was the one staring at him, my voice sounding reproachful, and I wasn’t even sure why.

“I’m trying to say that if you were, maybe we could have some fun...” His voice trailed off, and he brought his hands to his face, to the sides of his nose, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips, almost as if he were trying to conceal himself, ashamed of what he’d just said.

“What?” I wasn’t angry or disgusted, just incredulous: this was the Grant I went hiking with, we shared a tent just the two of us, we bathed naked in rivers. Nothing, zero, zilch suggested that he might be interested in me or men in general for that matter.

“Was mum worrying about me just an excuse?” It was all I could ask; I wanted to know how we’d gotten to this point. At least now we weren’t touching, but I have to admit that being there almost naked in front of him made me feel, if not vulnerable, quite exposed.

“ No, that was true, it’s true! Listen, your mother really cares about you, and about me.”

What did that even mean? Especially the about me part !

“Mum lets you sleep around with other men? - That would have been the worst thing, it would have been mum going back to how she was with my father, putting up with all his bullshit just because she was afraid of losing him.

“It’s more complicated than that.” Grant was taking his time, searching for the right words to say. He’d unbuttoned the top of his shirt and tugged at the collar to let some air in and cool off. I could see the hair on his chest plastered to his skin. It wasn’t just the summer heat, that was Grant under pressure.

“I’m listening.”

And so Grant began to explain that when he and mum first met, he’d told her right away that he fancied both men and women.

That they’d fallen in love with each other quickly, but they both knew that for it to work, he had to be able to keep having sex with men. They’d reached an agreement, actually, it was mum that had suggested it: Grant was free to sleep around, but only with men, he had to make sure the sex was safe, and, at this point Grant paused; she was free to sleep with other men too.

I couldn’t believe it! We were talking about my mum, my Catholic mum, the one I thought was against promiscuity, the one who had suffered my father’s cheating!

I told Grant so.

“Listen, there are things you don’t know. I’m only telling you now because your mother told me to be honest with you. She and your father met at a sex club; they were both customers. She fell in love with him; they were both happy at first, both free to do pretty much whatever they wanted; they were quite wild, from what I gathered.”

I think my eyes were popping out of their sockets; it was as if Grant were talking about a complete stranger.

He noticed my surprise and put his hand back on my thigh.

“It didn’t last long; soon your father started to become possessive, jealous. You know, your mother is a beautiful woman; he couldn’t stand the idea of ​​sharing her. He was controlling, not physically, but psychologically; he slowly began to isolate her. Then she got pregnant with you, and he got even worse. He could still do whatever he wanted, of course... But yeah, it didn’t start out that way...”

I was gobsmacked. There was so much to take in, starting with the fact that my mum used to frequent a sex club. Sometimes it’s easy to forget she was young once, still...

And Grant? Had he always fancied me? The thought of him wanking while thinking about me almost made me nauseous, not because there was anything inherently wrong—some of my gay friends told me they had and we all laughed about it—but because it was Grant, my mum’s boyfriend for fuck’s sake!

His hand was still on my thigh, just there, still. I should have pushed it away, but I didn’t care; I was in some kind of trance.

“Have you always fancied me?” I had to ask.

“NO!” Grant was almost as shocked as I was, and I couldn’t quite understand his reaction: he’d just told me he wanted to have some fun, and I’m sure he wasn’t talking about going bowling.

Once again, his blue eyes were fixed on mine. I could see why women, and men of course…, found him attractive.

“Listen,” he began, but I got the impression he wasn’t sure what was going to come out of his mouth next. “I don’t like twinks or anything like that... I like my men—men, if you know what I mean.” I wasn’t sure, but I nodded anyway.

“When I came here, I didn’t think I’d say something like that, but look at you, man! You’re half naked, you still smell of sex,” so he could smell it! I wondered for a moment if he was referring to mine or Jenny’s. “Your beard, you… you’re all grown-up,” he almost stammered.

My beard is a new addition to my look thanks to Roy, the character I’ll play in Aberglide 333. Friends say I look like a younger Jamie Dornan, if he had green eyes, which I obviously take as a compliment. Jenny and Gena say the beard irritates their skin, but Maria loves it.

“You look like a younger Jamie Dornan, for crying out loud, and that’s a compliment!” It was like he’d read my mind.

As he spoke, his hand began to move up my thigh. I honestly don’t think he noticed: I could tell he was concentrating on what to say next, where the conversation was heading. Or maybe I’m just naïve. And, if I have to be really honest, the sensation of his hand moving up toward my shorts wasn’t entirely unpleasant: his touch was gentle, his fingertips barely brushing my skin, sending a tingle up my spine.

“I’m fifty-fucking-five! My body isn’t what it used to be, if I want to sleep with someone like... a guy like you,” he seemed ashamed again. “I have to pay for it, damn it, and I don’t want to.” It was like he was begging me, I felt sorry for him.

“Isn’t there such a thing as a DILF fun club?”

“Yes, there is, but lately I’m more of a GDILF,” he almost laughed in self-deprecation.

His hand had reached the fabric of my shorts, his body was leaning toward me. I wondered if he was hard and, without meaning to, I checked between his legs. The cotton of his shorts was stretched taut, revealing the underlying bulge of his large ballsack and a thick curved line pressing against the zipper. He followed my eyes.

“Look what you’re doing to me!” he adjusted his cock with his left hand while the other slipped between my shorts and my skin. I don’t know, maybe I was still horny from earlier, maybe it was the sight of him hard or the way he touched me. Or maybe it was my position of power, the knowledge of being worshipped, craved, wanted. But my cock was responding too; I was afraid he’d notice, but luckily my shorts were loose enough to hide the swelling.

Yet I think he knew, from the way I let him get close, from the way I froze, and, of course, from the way I couldn’t take my eyes off his crotch. Don’t ask me why, but I was fascinated by the effect my body had on him and, consequently, back on me.

“This is weird, man!” The moment I said it, I knew he’d won, I knew I was consenting. “I mean... mum?”

“I love your mom, I love having sex with her, this is different!”

The conversation was getting really cringe, but maybe it was a little late to worry.

“You know, it’s like I’m two different people,” he wanted me to understand his position.

“What do you mean?”

“With women, I’ve always loved their softness, their curves. Taking them, guiding them towards pleasure when I’m inside. The contrast.” I could understand that: it could have been me speaking. “With men, it’s the opposite,” he continued. “With men, I want to be taken, I want them inside me, I want to eat their cocks. It’s my body against another hard body that I crave.”

The way he spoke was both shameless and passionate, and at the same time, he was telling me exactly what to expect if I gave in.

“Yeah, but mum? You wouldn’t tell her, would you? And me? I couldn’t look her in the eye!”

His grip on my leg tightened as he inspired.

“Your mom is fucking Mitchell Irving as we speak” he let it all out in one breath.

What? The morning was getting weirder and weirder.

“Mitch! Cousin Mitch?”

To be clear, Mitchell isn’t really my cousin, but he’s the neighbour’s son, a couple of years older than me. We were pretty close as kids. He calls my mum Auntie Lou, for fuck’s sake!

“Yep, that Mitch, and it’s been going on for a while... so you see, it’s not that different.