Page 22 of Jack Frosting

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” I added a wink before turning around. I hoped he bought my disinterest because my dick certainly hadn’t.

And it didn’t let me forget while I was lying awake in bed later either. Thinking of him, lying on the floor, his jockstrap bursting with what I could only describe as a hefty example of manhood, made me grab the lube and start jacking.

It wasn’t long before I came all over my hand and stomach. After swiping up the mess with a shirt, I was finally able to fall asleep.

“I’ll be there as soon as my interview’s done,” I told Henry as he got his hockey bag ready.

“It’s okay, Dad. I understand. I’m not gonna cry about it.” His sarcasm was somewhat of a defense mechanism, but I knew he understood when he added, “We can’t have Jack paying for the mortgage forever.”

I chuckled. “Not if I can help it.”

“My stick’s in the garage,” Henry said. “Don’t let me forget.”

“Forget what?” Jack’s more-than-imposing figure had bounded soundlessly up the stairs. It almost felt taboo for him to go up them. He didn’t seem to think his presence was unique. “You got all your stuff?”

“It’s not my first game ever. Just this season.” Henry shook his head and marched past both of us with his massive duffle over his shoulder.

“Excuse me, mister!” Jack called after him.

“His stick. That’s what we can’t forget. It’s in the garage,” I said.

“Right.” Jack smiled, and I imagined him taking a mental note.

“Thanks again for doing this.”

Jack took the cue and headed out the door and down the stairs. I shamelessly took the opportunity to stare at his shoulders. He had pushed up the long sleeves of his thermal shirt and it only made his back seem broader. Even if – and it was a huge if – this man had any interest in me, there was no way he was a bottom.

Forget it. You have an interview.

My pesky brain was always there to keep my dick in check. A younger man’s body while tempting should definitely not be my focus at this exact moment.

“You’re going to want a hat. It’s going to be chilly later. The first cold snap of the year.”

I was speaking to Henry, but–

“It’s cute that you want to take care of me,” Jack said, putting on his jacket. When he reached his arm back, the thermal shirt lifted, giving me a peek at his tan stomach. “I could get used to that.”

“I-I meant for Henry.”

“I know.”

There was the same fucking smile. I didn’t know what had gotten into Jack lately, but my lower half definitely liked it even if my brain didn’t understand it.

“Good luck, Dad,” Henry said, before adding, “I’m all set.”

“Good luck to you too, buddy. I’ll be there before you know it.”

I felt a squeeze on my shoulder and turned to see Jack’s smile again. “Do not thank me again. I know you’re going to crush this interview. You deserve it.”

I watched the two of them through the windows of the kitchen door, until they disappeared into Jack’s car. Heading into my office, I sat down, pulled the desk chair snug, and opened my interview notes in Google Docs.

Henry’s stick!

The chair rolled back with enough force it hit the opposite wall, but I didn’t care. I was already running to the garage. In the dark, I hit the button and ran to grab the stick. I cursed myself waiting for the door to rise–I should’ve called Jack. He probably already drove off.

The door was finally high enough that I could sneak under. Running down the driveway and onto the road, stick raised above my head, I screamed…at nothing.

“Damn it!”