Nate the Natural

by BRK   

Nate’s in a new city with a new job, but he’s not to put out about it. He makes friends pretty darn easily. Really good friends.

Nate put his hands on his hips and surveyed the leafy, twilit little three-block-square urban park just down the street from his new loft with a contented sigh. He was dimly aware that lots of guys would be a bit put out having to start over—new city, new employment—after the sudden strange kerfuffle at his old office and the awkward fallout that followed; but Nate just didn’t think that way. The new job was great, the loft was great, and the neighborhood he’d moved into was, well, great: nice, airy, well-tended, and full of friendly people. Nate was sure he was going to be happy here. Of course, he was even-keeled enough that he was happy anywhere.

The position he’d taken here with Smarther and Chaud LLC was 90 percent work from home, which was a big change from what he was used to. He was okay with it. Still getting top pay for his excellent client rapport and deliverables without the commute or the suits most days was a plus. He could dress comfortably even for the on-camera meetings: polos, tee shirts, even the baby-blue tank top and loose navy running shorts he was wearing now for his nightly post-work cool down, wandering the local park just as the lights went up and the day settled into evening. Someone had told him once he looked good in tank tops, probably because he was tall and naturally broad-shouldered, with a rangy physique that had most people assuming he worked out a lot more than the half hour of endorphin-chasing push-ups and sit-ups he’d been starting the day with since high school baseball. He didn’t wear them for the look, though. He just liked dressing comfortably. People seemed to like him regardless of his gear, anyway.

He spotted a drinking fountain and went over to take big slurp of the cool, burbling water. When he stood up, he was surrounded by three smiling, friendly guys, and Nate smiled back as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey, guys! I’m Nate,” he said, genuinely polite as always. He’d been polite a lot lately.

They were his age, around thirty, pretty cute, ranging from fit to built under their tee shirts and shorts. “Hey yourself,” one of them said, the tall one with the dirty blond hair and the small gold stud in his ear. He had that wide, louche smile and slightly glazed look people sometimes got around him for some reason. They were all standing close, too, but that was also pretty standard. He was always a bit nonplussed when guys talked about “personal bubbles” or whatever, because Nate’s experience was it wasn’t usually a thing. Not with guys, anyway.

“So, you guys live around here?” Nate asked, looking between the trio with a smile. “I’m new in town, so I’m always looking for the local scoop.”

The more swole of the three grinned. He was a little darker than the others, and instead of wearing his hair very short like most muscle-packed guys he knew—it was always either the $600-haircut close-cropped corporate drone look or the buzzed-closed gym-rat badass look—this guy had a shaggy mop of brown curls trimmed just shy of the swell of his traps. “Then you have to try Lorillard’s,” he insisted.

“It’s the local bar and grill, just around the corner,” the middle one explained, a boy-next-door type with strawberry blond hair. “You been?”

Nate shrugged his broad shoulders. “Nope!” he said agreeably. That seemed to decide the matter, and they all turned and started heading for the bar, gym guy in the lead.

As they walked they introduced themselves: blond guy was Anthony, boy-next-door was Charlie, and gym guy was Bart. “So what brings you to our neck of the woods?” Anthony asked.

Nate explained about the kerfuffle. They seemed aghast, and by the time they were seated at one of Lorillard’s little outdoor tables, Anthony and Charlie to either side and Bart across from Nate, they were staring at him in amazement.

“The settlement was enough for me to sock plenty away and buy a sweet upscale loft—as long as it was someplace else,” he finished as the busser delivered a pitcher of ice water and four small plastic glasses before disappearing.

Anthony was shaking his head. “Wait, so this hunky junior partner—your boss’s boss or whatever—just started coming onto you? In your office? In the middle of the day?” he asked. “and then you and he—?” He trailed off, incredulous.

Nate shrugged. “It happens,” he said. “They were too uptight there. If HR hadn’t gotten involved—”

“Wait, no, it really doesn’t,” Bart broke in. “I mean, that’s a nightmare scenario for a big corporation. I can’t even imagine it happening in my firm.”

Nate’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?” he asked, surprised. Bart stared at him.

“Kind of a fantasy, though,” Anthony admitted. “For some guys,” he added, glancing guiltily over at his friends.

Nate hmmed. “It’s not really about fantasies for me,” he said casually. “It’s just—it just makes sense. People are less stressed out after sex, aren’t they? You go out, you run into guys, sex happens. It’s just part of everyday life. You know?”

“Not really,” Bart said drily.

Nate looked around at his new friends, confused. “So you guys are saying—it doesn’t just happen to you. You’ve never had sex without warning at a restaurant, or a car wash, or, I dunno, asking for directions at a gas station.”

They hadn’t, it seemed, and were slightly dismayed that he thought they might have. Nate was smiling as he shook his head. “But… I dunno. Getting hard in public and doing something about it is just part of being a guy.”

Anthony eyed him. “Are you saying—what are you saying? That you get sex whenever you’re aroused in public?” he pressed, leaning forward a little.

“Not—I don’t—”

“Don’t what, Nate?” Bart asked.

“A lot of times, they’re the ones who are hard. Like Charlie is, right now.” Anthony and Bart looked at Charlie, who was absentmindedly rubbing his crotch. “You guys are looking at me like this is the craziest thing,” Nate said. “Charlie, back me up here.”

“Huh?” Charlie said, faintly dazed. His green eyes were dark with lust as he focused on Nate. His lips curved. “You want me to… back… it… up…?”

Charlie started fiddling with the back of his shorts as he got out of his seat and came around to Nate, throwing it back for his new buddy and showing off his fine, now-bare ass. Nate took up the offer, and they could already see he was getting very hard even as he pulled his thick, damp-tipped, ready-to-go cock out of his running shorts.

Anthony and Bart were stunned by this. “Uh, dudes…” Bart said in a low voice.

“What are you doing?” Anthony said, flicking his disbelieving gaze between Nate and Charlie. There was something in his eyes and the line between his brows that said he almost understood, but his bafflement was still very real.

Nate gave him a winning smile, hoping he’d understand this time. “C’mon man,” he said, like Anthony had suddenly objected to bro-hugs or emojis. “What’s wrong with everyone getting off now and then? It’s really no big. Right, Charlie?”

“Yeah, it’s just something that—” He eased his thrust-out ass down on where Nate was holding his big, wide hardon in an upright and ready position, moaning a little as the stiff erection slid along the inside of his crease and brushed his tight, twitching hole. The others were now watching in silent, round-eyed awe as Nate got to work on their friend. “—unnhhh—something that happens!” he finished. “No… big. Well, that’s not true. There is a ‘big’…”

A thin, uniformed goth-twink of a waiter wandered up, looking down at his pad. “You guys ready to—?” He stopped and froze in place as Nate grinned happily and Charlie let out another low, pleased moan.

“Uh—I’ll come back,” the waiter said. He turned and fled, the four guys barely noticing.

Charlie was seating himself slowly onto Nate’s precum-slick pole, making deep, soft noises in the back of his throat as Nate’s larger-than-average prick pushed deeper and deeper into him. Nate wrapped an arm around his nicely defined torso under his tee shirt, finding Charlie’s cock with his other hand as he pulled Charlie’s back against his naturally muscular chest. “You want it nice and quick?” Nate offered, his sultry baritone still sounding as genial and solicitous as ever. “I can make it last if you want.”

“What the hell,” Bart muttered, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Quick is good,” Charlie answered conversationally, like they were discussing splitting the tip after dim sum.

Nate smiled and wriggled his crotch deftly into Charlie’s ass, simultaneously working Charlie’s average-length, extra-wide palm-filling erection. In moments Charlie was throwing his head back, sweat dappling his temples. “Nice,” he said. “Nate, that’s—oh, that’s nice—”

“Very nice,” Nate agreed. Charlie’s eyes suddenly flew open—he was going to cum. Not wanting to mess up his tee shirt, he quickly grabbed one of the empty water cups off the table, fumbling it into position just as he started spurting heavily into the base of the cup.

“Jesus fuckballs,” Anthony said quietly.

He and Bart watched in astonishment as Charlie slammed the cup down on the table, the nature of its half-inch of messy contents shockingly obvious to anyone who might happen to glance at it. He eased himself off of Nate, getting to his feet as though nothing strange at all had happened. Pulling up his shorts, he moved around and dropped back into his previous seat looking utterly, enviably relaxed, satisfied smile and all.

Anthony and Bart were staring at the cup in horror. “What?” Nate asked, perplexed.

The goth-twink waiter reappeared, looking nervous. “Uh, hey again, can I get you guys anything—” He saw the soiled cup and blanched. “—uh, anything… else?”

All at once Nate felt very hungry. He ordered an IPA and a big double-cheese juicyburger platter, extra fries, extra mayo.

“Oh, yeah, that,” Charlie gushed, when the waiter turned uncertainly to him. He looked as famished as Nate felt. “I’ll have that.”

Anthony and Bart ordered slightly more reluctantly, like they were merging cautiously back onto the highway Nate and Charlie were cruising down at top speed, tachs in the red. When the waiter was gone, Nate turned suddenly to the others.

“Oh!” he said, excited. “I heard the baseball team here is great. You guys want to get tickets and go to a game?”

“I’m in,” Charlie said.

Anthony and Bart exchanged glances. “Uh,” Anthony said slowly, turning back to Nate. “Sure. Why not?”

Nate settled back in his chair, beaming at his new friends. He was definitely going to like it here.

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