Lush in Lace (3 page)

“Fuck, no! I was only here to make sure you
didn’t corrupt your own brother into doing something he’d regret,”
Scott replied. “However, by the looks of your entertainment, I’d
say Jamie’s safe enough. Although, I have to admit, I’m a little
disappointed. I expected more from you, Rylan, especially after
Thursday.”

Shit.
I hissed at the memory of
Thursday. It was a day I wished to banish from my mind.

I’d gone to Wicked Wayz sex shop to pick up a
package that Jamie and BJ had ordered for their honeymoon as well
as the gifts for the stag party attendees. However, I had no idea
that BJ had also asked Scott to pick up the same order. While I
waited for the clerk to finish assisting another customer, I took
my time checking out the vast selection of lube, dildos, hosiery,
garters, heels, and my favorite—the lace thong man panties—aka
manties.

After several minutes, with still no sign of
the clerk being done, I found myself wandering the other sections
of the store. I didn’t often come to Wicked Wayz, preferring to
purchase my kinky items online. I had no idea just how large the
store really was. There were dozens of items I’d never seen before,
like an entire wall dedicated to penis enlargers.
Who bought
this stuff?
I wondered as I took one of them down to inspect
it. Unfortunately, it was at that exact moment that Scott Lush
walked in the door. He didn’t say a word. He simply stared at the
foreign contraption in my hand and laughed—a full, hard belly laugh
that lasted until the clerk finally stepped in to assist me.

Despite my attempts to explain that I was
just browsing the store out of boredom, Scott was unconvinced. For
the rest of the afternoon, while we ran wedding errands for the
grooms-to-be, I had to grit my teeth while listening to Scott’s
snarky comments like… “bigger isn’t always better” and “good things
come in small packages” or his favorite, “it’s not the size of the
ship but the motion of the ocean.” It wasn’t until I offered to
show him my “not-so-small ship” that he finally relented.

Unfortunately, the memory of Thursday was
still fresh in my mind and, it was something I’d more than
willingly forget if only Scott would let me.

“I’ll have you know that I tamed things down
tonight for Jamie’s sake,” I responded, ignoring Scott’s raised
eyebrow. “So you should really be thanking me right now, Lush. If
I’d had my way you’d have run screaming from the place over half an
hour ago.” I was exaggerating of course, but his smugness was
irritating me.

“What are we talking about here, Squeaker…
whips, chains, nipple clamps?”

I scoffed at his typical straight boy
suggestions. “Not even close.”

“Golden showers, felching, snowballing?”

“What the fu—?” For the second time tonight,
Scott Lush had shocked the hell out of me. “Where the hell did you
learn about all that shit?” I screeched.

He put a finger to his chin as if he was
trying hard to recall the information. “There’s this magic thing
called Google, and when you type ‘gay’ in the search box all sorts
of wonderful things come up,” he stated, wagging his eyebrows at
me—mocking me.

“Asshole,” I grumbled. “I’ll have you know,
the Internet is nothing like real life, Lush. Just because you can
handle looking at a few pictures online, doesn’t mean you can
handle my kind of kink up close and personal.”

It was his turn to scoff. “You underestimate
me, Squeaker,” he stated before opening the door to the room where
we’d stowed the coats for tonight’s party. Scott had barely pushed
the door open a crack before he let out an unmanly yelp and slammed
it shut again with a thud.

“What!” I asked, shocked and confused by his
reaction.

He shook his head rapidly. His grip was firm
on the door handle and if possible, he looked greener than he did
during the stripper’s show.

“What the hell is it?” I repeated,
concerned.

When he didn’t respond, I pushed him
aside.

“Don’t!” he warned, when I slapped his hand
off the door knob and began to turn it.

Unfortunately, his warning came too late to
stop my momentum. I’ll admit I wasn’t at all prepared for the sight
that greeted me once I stood in the open doorway. However, I
managed to handle my shock much better than Scott.

Even in the dim light of the room, I could
clearly see Rimmer fulfilling his earlier promise to the stripper,
who lay naked on top of the pool table which was covered in coats.
The Latin man was on his back, his ass hanging over the table’s
edge. His legs were bent, and his feet were wide apart on the green
felt. Rimmer was bent over him, his head buried between the man’s
legs. Even from this angle, I could tell Rimmer had his tongue
buried deep in the stripper’s ass while his hand stroked that big
cock.

It was pretty hot, like live porn; that is
until I remembered Scott’s reaction and the fact that the scene had
probably, once again, scarred the poor man for life.

Good. He deserved a little shaking up
tonight. He was too calm and collected.

“Problem?” I asked, steeling my expression,
so it appeared as if the sight was a natural occurrence in my
world.

“They—they’re on my coat,” Scott muttered,
still looking shell-shocked.

I couldn’t help but laugh. It was sweet
justice. “I guess that’s what you get for spying,” I replied
smugly.

He didn’t look amused.

“Want me to go in there and get it for you?”
I asked.

“No! F-forget it. The coat’s dead to me now,”
he grumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have it dry-cleaned and
returned to you,” I offered, feeling slightly guilty that he’d have
to go out in the cold without a coat.

“Dry-cleaned? More like sanitized.”

I shook my head. “You’ve got that same sad,
bewildered look on your face as those lost puppies you used to
save. I told you, you’d be out of your league here, straight boy,
but you’re too stubborn to listen.”

His lips turned down into a scowl. “Give me a
break, Squeaker, I wasn’t expecting to find two men fucking in the
coatroom. It caught me off guard. That’s all.”

“So you’d be fine to open the door again, now
that you’re expecting it?” I baited him. “Because I’m sure Rimmer
wouldn’t mind letting you watch. In fact, I think he’d enjoy
it.”

As if on cue, we heard Rimmer’s gruff voice
filter through the thin door. “Oh yeah, baby, let Rimmer in that
sweet little hole. Fuck, you’re tight for a whore.”

I could see Scott’s face visibly pale in
front of me.

Rimmer’s words were followed by a few more
grunts and the distinct sounds of a table scraping against the
hardwood floor.

“Aye, papi, oh fuck me! Yes! Deeper! Harder!”
the Latin man cried out. “Aye! Shit, you so big. I coming!
Aaaayye!!”

“Stroke that monster for me, Tino,” Rimmer
grunted. “Yeah! Let it loose. Fuck. That’s it. Oh shit, look at all
that sweet cream.”

I watched Scott take several steps away from
the door as if to ward off the sounds coming from inside. “I-I’m
not going in there,” he mumbled nervously.

I smirked again. “Told you, you couldn’t
handle it.”

When he didn’t answer, I continued, “Why
don’t you admit it, Lush? Just because you’re ‘pro-gay,’ or
whatever you seem to think having a gay brother makes you, doesn’t
mean you can handle my world.” It was the truth, and one of the
reasons I gave Scott such a hard time.

“I can handle anything you’ve got, Squeaker,”
he challenged.

This was the way it always was with us—one
challenge after another. It was a gay/straight, jock/nerd,
old-as-time tug-of-war that neither of us would ever win. We were
just too opposite.

“Damn you’re stubborn, Lush. But since you
foolishly believe you can handle anything I can dish out, how about
we make it interesting?”

Saying the words brought so many images to
mind—Scott on his knees, Scott on all fours, Scott’s ass lined up
to take my cock, Scott in nothing but stockings and lace…
oh
fuck the thought of Scott’s huge cock surrounded by lace…

“How interesting?” he asked, interrupting my
favorite fantasy.

I hoped he didn’t notice how the horn at my
groin now stuck out at an odd angle due to my lustful thoughts.

“A thousand bucks,” I rushed out, wanting to
keep his attention on me and not my dick.

“Are you fucking serious?” he asked, his eyes
locking with mine.

I nodded. I should have offered a lower
number, but I wasn’t worried since I was probably the only one who
knew Scott didn’t have a grand to spare. That’s why his next words
rocked me to the core.

“Okay, Squeaker, you’re on…”

****

-Scott Lush-

Almost a full five minutes had passed since I
opened the package that was delivered this morning. I was
motionless, sitting on the edge of my bed, the contents of the
package in my hand, my jaw slack and my eyes wide. Never in my
wildest dreams would I have imagined Rylan’s idea of a kinky
challenge would involve lace panties, garters, and sheer stockings.
I reread the note he’d attached to the wrapping just to be certain
this wasn’t some kind of joke…

Lush,

Here’s what your stubborn ass has
gotten yourself into—literally. Wear these for the entire wedding
and you’ll be a grand richer. Simple as that…

Rylan

Beside his name, he added a winking smiley
face with its tongue sticking out—mocking me.

Fucker. Well, if he thought some lace undies
and a pair of stockings were enough to get me to back out of the
bet, he had another thing coming.

Not only did I crave the satisfaction of
putting the ever-so-smug Rylan Madden in his place, but I really
didn’t have a thousand bucks to spare.

In fact, the additional wedding expenses were
already forcing me further into debt though I’d never tell BJ or
Jamie. As far as I was aware, no one knew the details of my
financial situation, and I planned on keeping it that way.

Sure, my family and friends knew I’d left
college early, but they all thought it was due to a knee injury, or
because I wasn’t smart enough to handle it. None of them knew it
was one incident and a belated epiphany that caused me to
ultimately drop out and void my full football scholarship. Looking
back it probably wasn’t one of my brightest ideas, especially
knowing full well I’d have to pay back half my tuition and
residence fees, which I had no clue would be so outrageously
expensive.

In the three years since I’d left college, I
worked like a dog at my buddy’s landscaping company, shared a
cramped apartment with three other roommates, and still I’d barely
made enough to put a sizable dent in my debt.

Thankfully, I’d been living rent-free with
Jamie and BJ since my return home to help with the wedding, and I’d
made some good headway toward getting back into the black. Still,
that meant that right now, losing a thousand dollar bet with Rylan
was not an option.

Squeaker, on the other hand, would be no
worse for wear if he lost. He’d landed a six-figure job right out
of high school. Apparently, he had a gift for finding programming
bugs in video games. All the big names in gaming relied on his
talent, and he made a shitload of money—at least according to
BJ—which meant that Rylan had more than enough to spare in order to
humiliate me.

Fuck! How did I manage to get myself into
this?
I ran a frustrated hand down my face.
Face it; you
love the thrill of challenging Rylan,
my inner voice admitted
although outwardly I was shaking my head in denial.

I looked at the items again, noticing that
the panties weren’t like any I’d seen before, at least not on any
of the girls I’d fucked. They were pretty, feminine, and small, but
definitely not small enough for a girl. I picked them up and
stretched the material between my fingers. There was a lot more
room in the front than regular women’s underwear would have, almost
as if these were designed to support a cock, which made no sense to
me.

The back, however, was like any other thong,
held together by only the tiniest piece of string.
Fuck
. I
could already imagine how uncomfortable it would feel to have that
tiny piece of string riding up my ass crack all day.

And how the hell am I supposed to fit my
dick into these?
I thought, stretching the lace as far as it
would go. The panties may have been bigger than average, but they
still weren’t big enough to accommodate my size.

Shit
! Frustrated, I dropped them onto
the bed and began pacing. I should have known Rylan would have
picked a humiliating punishment for me.

No matter what, I could always count on him
to bring his A game. He challenged me mentally, something my
teachers, friends, and even my family never had. They all just
assumed the only thing I was good at was football. Somehow, Rylan
seemed to know that I could match him intellectually, despite
referring to me as a dumb-ass most of the time. I knew my intellect
both surprised and delighted him.

To be honest, Rylan wasn’t what I expected
either. He wasn’t your average nerd. He was tall, tan, and strong.
I could see the definition of his muscles under those long-sleeved
T-shirt-type things he favored so much. In addition, he’d ditched
his thick, geeky glasses in favor of contacts, which made his
light-brown eyes sparkle, accentuating the deep, rich color of his
thick, dark hair. These days Rylan was more conscious of his looks.
He wore his hair short and neatly styled, giving him a modern, sexy
appearance. I’ll admit he grew up a lot during the years I’d been
away and not just physically. His newfound confidence and cockiness
drew me to Rylan even more. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first
time I’d thought of him as desirable, but it didn’t get any
easier.