The four jocks: Quarantine edition

Howard Eaton—”Howie” to everyone on Earth, apparently, whether he liked it or not—was tagging along on a remote beach house spring break with his rich best friend Jonah Sanchez and two other guys from the swim team when the whole quarantine thing happened and the University went online-only. With everything closed and everyone hunkering down, Jonah decided to just stay on the island, finish the semester online, and spend the rest of his days enjoying his uncle’s beach house and the private sugar-sand beach and Olympic pool attached thereto; he even gallantly invited his three houseguests to do the same, for as long as they wanted. The other guys, Ken Kurasaki and Leif Orensen, eagerly agreed to the plan and immediately settled in like they’d all lived there together for years.

Howie was a little less sanguine, though he accepted the offer with shy gratitude. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his three friends (maybe Jonah more than he should have); and the loss of the scheduled swim meets as a chance to scope out his extremely fit friends was more than offset by the prospect of ogling them 24/7, especially as they started collectively devolving into a fairly negligent attitude toward clothing. Shirts were gone before the quarantine even started; pants followed soon after. Then one day three weeks or so in Jonah wandered out to the pool without a stitch on him and just dove in, swam his morning laps, and didn’t bother getting dressed after he climbed out and toweled off. Ken and Leif were quick to follow suit, doing their daily swim bare-assed and staying that way afterwards. Not wanting to seem weird Howie did the same, but it only made him more aware than ever of a fact he couldn’t help but take notice of from the very start of their shared spring break sojourn: namely, that his housemates were all way more hung than he was.

It wasn’t that Howie was small (he told himself); he was a little under average. A lot of guys were a little under average. As a swimmer who was around guys getting dressed and undressed all the time, Howie knew this for a fact. It just so happened that not only his very best friend and permanent swim buddy from the second grade onward, next door neighbor Jonah, started naturally filling out into hunkalicious proportions the moment puberty had hit him like a freight train (a tendency he’d deliberately accelerated by pumping iron religiously, though more for strength and tone than size); Jonah had also experienced such a rapid and impressive enlargement of his junk during the same period that they were already whispering about “Jonah and the Whale” before they’d even finished middle school. Soon he was attracting the attention of every girl in school, though they seemed to be equally divided between horror at the rumored size of his “whale” and eager fascination; and Howie tried to ignore how much his heart hurt when Jonah smiled back at them.

On the college swim team they started constantly palling around with fellow freshmen Ken and Leif, enough that they eventually decided to all go on Break together; and it wasn’t long after they’d gotten to the island that the locker-room glimpses Howie had gotten suggesting Ken and Leif were almost as gifted as Jonah were confirmed in spades.

The other guys didn’t seem to care about cock size, though, beyond occasionally ribbing Jonah for being a little too big (calling him “three legs”, asking if he shouldn’t have taken up baseball instead, etc.). And things weren’t that lopsided in other ways. Howie had Jonah beat on height, standing 6’4” to his 5’10”; and though he wasn’t as fitness-model ripped as Jonah he was incredibly cut and defined, more so than Ken, who was tall, loose-limbed, and lanky, or Leif, whose alabaster physique was more sleek than strapping, the kind of strong, smooth body the slid through water at remarkable speed. He was pretty sure Ken had the biggest feet out of them (as swimmers they all had larger than average feet), but Howie was pretty close. So, yeah, there was a lot of balance. Howie found himself relaxing more and more as the weeks and months passed and “four naked swim jocks in an island beach house” became his entire world.

An easy camaraderie developed between them, and Howie was as happy and cheerful as the rest of them; they swam and worked out together to stay in shape, took turns cooking and cleaning, and tried to ignore their growing libidos as they stayed cooped up together in a four-man paradise. At some point Ken started surreptitiously sleeping in Leif’s room, and they all ignored that, too, especially Howie, who knew that his acknowledging their tacit coupledom would only stoke his slowly smoldering sense of loneliness and heartache. He wondered if Jonah, with no girls around to choke with his mighty dick, was feeling just as isolated as he was. Maybe not, he thought. The other three were pretty laid back and had the chill “bro” thing down, something Howie faked as well as he could while trying not to let his emotions and too-fertile imagination get the better of him.

One rare stormy day deep into summer—thinking back Howie wasn’t even sure what day of the week it was—Jonah decided he was going to clean out the cabana and see if anything interesting cropped up, like, say, a cache of vintage porno mags, or scandalous pictures of his aged but fit uncle as a young rake. Howie, Ken, and Leif discarded their half-hearted plan to veg out watching the all Avengers movies in order and opted to join him. It was Leif, sitting cross-legged on the floor going through some low cupboards under an ancient tube-style TV, who found a nondescript, nearly unmarked flat box shoved way in the back of the shelf, behind a couple of jigsaw puzzles and a dusty pair of old rollerblades. A handwritten legend in square capitals on the cardboard lid read simply “The Game”. “Hey guys, have a look at this,” he said, opening the box.

Jonah came over wearing a huge, ridiculous straw hat he’d found and a pair of giant, fuchsia comedy sunglasses, the others following. Howie peered over Leif’s shoulder. Inside the box was a tall stack of largish, Trivial-Pursuit-style cards and a single separate sheet with what looked like instructions. The stack of cards had been secured lengthwise and widthwise with rubber bands, but the lengthwise ones had dried out and broken. “That’s been there a while,” Howie said.

“Thus the rollerblades,” Ken snarked, picking up of the skates and looking it over for a moment before setting it aside again. “So what is it?”

Leif was reading the instruction sheet and frowning slightly. “It’s a game,” Leif said slowly, still reading. “Seems like you take turns asking the others questions and picking which answer you like best.” His lips quirked at something he read, and he looked up at the others with one raised eyebrow. “Works best with alcohol, it says.”

“Sold!” Ken grinned.

“Awesome,” Jonah said, taking the box from Leif, who held into the instructions as he climbed to his feet. Howie wasn’t surprised by Jonah’s enthusiasm; he’d known right away that Jonah would want to play this game, whatever it was. Lately he’d been talking a lot about them all getting to know each other better, seeing as how they were all sharing space together indefinitely; the other night he’d even suggested a round of truth-or-dare. They’d ended up playing Warrior Demon 4 on the GameCore until 3 a.m. instead.

“Let’s do it,” Jonah said, heading out the cabana door toward the house with the game in hand, his straw hat flapping as he walked. “Time to take this friendship to the next level!”

Leif and Ken shared a look and, hiding their smiles, followed after him. Howie trailed behind, his cheeks warm and his eyes fixed, as usual, on Jonah’s perfect ass.

---

The four of them settled in a circle on the floor of the screened-in front porch, its customary tropical warmth now exhilaratingly charged from the calm, cool storm still rolling over the island. Howie loved the usual vista the room afforded of the vast, glittering ocean sloshing negligently against the sandy white beach below under an immaculate azure sky. Today, though, they were surrounded by harmony, the soft, infinite patter of rain on the house mixing with the deeper sounds of storm and tide. Even the dark slate of the brooding ocean seemed to rising to meet the roiling, iron-gray expanse above. It felt like portent and change was in the air, and he thought of Shakespeare’s Tempest and what Prospero and Caliban might have in store for them were they to suddenly manifest on these strange, secluded shores. There was musk in the air, too, like the rain was sex personified, and the four of them sat close, knee to knee, all hyper-aware of each other and how, in that queer, unreal moment, closed off by storm and sea, they were utterly freed of all connections and all constraints.

They’s brought out a little cooler of longnecks, and Ken set about twisting off caps and handing them around. Jonah took his while turning the cards over in his other hand, grinning excitedly. They were all a little chubbed, and Jonah and Howie were both halfway hard, though as usual they were all pretending otherwise. “So, how do we play, exactly?” he asked Leif, who was sitting to his right, opposite Howie. “What do the instructions say?”

Leif shrugged. “It’s like I said,” he told them. “We take turns reading a question, the rest of us answer clockwise starting from the questioner’s left, and the best answer wins.” He took a nonchalant swig from his bottle, and Howie, doing likewise with the others (because they all drank together when the beers were out), watched him closely.

“And how is the winner chosen?” he asked suspiciously.

Leif licked his lips and grinned. “A big old, no-holds-barred snog,” he said gleefully. “With tongue,” he added, tossing a wink at Ken. Ken, who had been affecting a sardonic detachment during the explanations, now looked more than interested.

Jonah laughed, and Leif looked his way, still grinning. “You been looking for a chance to kiss me, Orensen?” he chided amiably.

“Or someone,” Howie said. His thought that the quiet pairing off of Leif and Ken would definitely be out in the open after this was instantly submerged by a new, terrifying, and altogether wonderful thought: I might get to kiss Jonah!

“Well,” Jonah said briskly, pulling the remaining tattered strands of elastic off the cards, “I have the deck, so I get to decide who kisses who.” Howie quickly looked down—he didn’t want to know who his best friend was looking at when he said that.

“For now,” Leif said genially.

Jonah cut the deck, turned over a card, and cleared his throat theatrically. “What significant attribute out of the members of the group,” he read, “should be distributed equally between all of us?” He huffed, looking at the card front and back. “What kind of game is this, anyway?” he asked himself. He shook his head, slid the card under the bottom of the deck, and looked at Howie.

Howie realized he was blushing, and glanced down again. His mind immediately went to one thing, of course, though to his relief he was very obviously not alone. “Come on, Eaton,” Ken goaded him, grinning, and Leif said, “You gotta say it, bro. There’s only one answer!”

Howie risked a look at Jonah, but he was grinning, too. “It’s true,” he admitted. “There’s very clearly only one answer.”

Howie rolled his eyes and took a long pull of his beer, prompting the others to do likewise. He slammed the bottle down on the smooth teak floor in front of his folded legs, and the others did the same, thunk-thunk thunk-thunk. He sighed in fake exasperation, as if he were being asked to pronounce the most obvious of truths. “Jonah’s dick,” he announced, gesturing grandly at his friend, who bowed where he sat. At that moment the wind gusted around them, spattering the screens with rain, and Howie wondered if the storm approved.

The others conformed that there was, indeed, only one response. Howie had barely finished speaking before Ken chimed in, “Definitely Jonah’s dick.”

Leif’s gray eyes were twinkling. “It’s unanimous,” he said. “Jonah’s big, giant dick.”

“Naturally,” Jonah concurred. “Now,” he added, adopting an air of perplexity as he looked around the group, tapping his chin, “how shall I decide who to kiss?”

Howie wanted to look away. He also wanted to shout, “Pick me! Pick me!” Before he could do either of these things, Jonah shrugged and moved toward Howie. “Eh, you’re closest,” he said with a fond smile, before grabbing Howie’s neck and pulling him in for a deep, soul-shuddering kiss.

Howie tried to hold back, not wanting Jonah to feel the depth of his passions, but his barriers just weren’t that strong. He returned the kiss with ardor, sliding his hand along Jonah’s smooth cheek and jaw while arousal roared through him, snapping between them like electrical arcs until he could feel the others’ excitement almost as well as his own. When they broke the kiss, he was hard, Jonah was hard, they were all hard. Only—

“What the actual fuck,” Ken muttered, looking down at his lap.

They all looked down at their laps. Them they looked at each other’s laps.

Leif gave an impressed whistle. “Fuu-u-ck,” Ken said.

It had come true. Somehow, it had come true. Only… not the way Howie would have expected.

Jonah’s giant cock had, indeed, been distributed amongst them. Except instead of all of them ending up with identical wrist-thick, foot-long Jonah-boners, each of them had gotten three extra inches of hard, thick meat, leaving Jonah with just three very hard, very stiff inches of his own.

For Howie fascination gave way instantly to crippling guilt, and he met Jonah’s eyes pleadingly, intending to apologize profusely for inadvertently taking his big, beautiful dick away. But before he could say anything, Jonah put a finger quickly across Howie’s lips. “Relax,” he said calmingly, lowering his hand again. “I always wondered what it would be like not to have that club. Plus,” he added slyly, leaning back and glancing around at the other guys with a grin, “the game’s just getting started.”

“Shit,” Ken said, clearly seeing the implications. Howie wondered if he would get up and abandon the game—Howie knew Ken was very proud of his body and liked it exactly the way it was. Instead he took a long swig of beer, finishing off his bottle, and the other did the same. Ken started opening and passing around new longnecks, while Howie took the four of them and their revised cocks in.

They were all very hard, like that was natural their natural state at the moment. Jonah’s thick three inches was almost mesmerizing. A little drop of precum emerged from the slit as Howie watched, and he had to tear his eyes away.

Leif’s long, think, flute-like cock looked even longer and thinner now at thirteen inches than it had at ten. Ken’s dark, curved, uncut dick looked positively unmovable as it bent away from its owners navel, its twisting girth making it even more of a handful than the mere update to twelve inches.

And as for himself? Seven solid, round inches standing straight up out of his own crotch seemed positively… unreal.

Jonah leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You look good with a ‘significant attribute’,” he said teasingly. Howie wondered if the others could hear what he said over the rain. Louder, he added, “Your turn,” and officiously handed Howie the deck.

“Oh,” Howie said, “right.” He sety down his new beer and turned over the first card on the top. “Um,” he said, focusing on the plain, black letters. “What significant attribute of the person opposite you should that person have twice as much of?”

He quickly turned and looked at Ken with wide eyes, trying to communicate his answer telepathically. Ken laughed. “Yeah, okay, enough with the Bambi eyes,” he said. He took a big drink from his new bottle, making the rest of them do likewise, then looked at Jonah and said, as sardonically as possible, “Jonah’s not-so-giant dick.”

Jonah grinned, evidently not caring much about his dick but enjoying the playful attention he was getting. Leif looked at Howie consideringly. “You got the best arms out of all of us,” he told him. “I’m gonna say ‘arms’.”

“Hey!” Jonah objected, pretend-punching Leif in the shoulder. Howie was inclined to agree—his arms were thick enough and very nicely shaped after years of hard work in the pool and the gym, but Jonah’s were bigger, like the rest of—well, he thought, interrupting himself, not all of Jonah was bigger than they were now. That was a strange, new reality. Having his own arms be twice as big would be even stranger, but fortunately it was Howie’s turn, and he knew who he was going to pick.

Jonah, meanwhile, was looking Ken over. “I’m gonna say… chest hair,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Ken shot back, smiling. “Zero times zero is still zero.” He was still the only one of them who never had to shave his chest before a meet.

Howie was already moving toward Ken, who turned to him with a smile and accepted the kiss, allowing it to deepen. Howie was so flooded with sensations he almost didn’t notice as Ken brought another mouth into the kiss and the make-out session went three-way. The warm, tangy sea wind seemed to circle softly around them as the rain picked up and the ocean roared on the beach below.

“Shit, you guys,” Howie heard his (ostensibly straight) best friend say admiringly after a while. “That is so fucking…” He trailed off, and Howie found his rational thought and broke the kiss, turning with damp, buzzing lips to look at Jonah.

Jonah was looking down at his crotch again. Howie looked too and gasped. Standing proud and hard out of Jonah’s dark, manscaped pubes were two hard, fat, stubby, precum-leaking three-inch boners, one right in front of the other.

Ken was craning his neck to see. “Cool,” he said. “I hoped that was what would happen.”

Howie swallowed, not really hearing what Ken had said. He felt overwhelmed. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” Jonah said. He added cheekily, “Yours too.”

It took a second to register what Jonah had said. “What?” he said, meeting his friend’s dark eyes, which were dancing with interest and amusement. Jonah nodded toward him with his chin. At first Howie looked down at his crotch, half-expecting to see a dupe of his new seven-inch torpedo, but there was just the one looking back at him, red-tinged and ready. Then he noticed that resting in his lap were four hands, one of which was holding the deck. The hell? He passed the cards to Ken distractedly so he could lift up his four hands and stare at them, his thick, sculpted upper arms shifting pleasantly against each other as he did so.

Beyond his hands he could see Leif beaming at him, and he lowered his hand to glare at the sleek, alabaster blond. “You idiot,” he groused. “How am I supposed to swim with four of these?” He gestured unconsciously with all four arms, like he’d been using them all his life.

“I dunno,” Leif said, “but we’re going to love watching. Like always.”

Howie’s frown eroded as he realized Leif meant it. They really… did enjoy watching him swim?

He looked at Ken, confused, who pretended to give him a sour look. “Don’t get a big head over it,” he said, then deliberately turned his attention to the next card. “What does the person to your right have a lot of,” he read, “that the person to your left should have a lot more of?”

Leif gave Ken a wicked smile. “Skill at cuddling,” he announced.

“Ooo, interesting,” Jonah said. It sounded like he liked the idea of being a mega-expert cuddler. Howie felt his cheeks warming for some reason.

“That’s not an answer,” Ken objected, looking embarrassed.

“Too late,” Leif said. “Jonah?”

Jonah gave Leif a measuring look. “Speed in the water,” he said. He turned to Howie and added, “to match your grace.”

Howie stared at Jonah, his wits deserting him. “Uh, cocks,” he said, not really thinking. Then he realized he shouldn’t be obsessing over Jonah’s cocks, like there was all there was to him. Howie knew better—he knew so much better. “No! Wait!” he stammered. “That’s not—”

“Too late!” Jonah sang happily. Unexpectedly he brushed the backs of his fingers along Howie’s cheek, as if to say he knew all about what Howie thought of him. Red-faced, Howie turned to Ken—who was already leaning forward to kiss Jonah. Jonah met him halfway and they fell into a deep kiss. Then Howie felt Jonah’s hand on his upper back drawing him into the kiss too, and he was powerless to resist. At some point he realized that Jonah must have pulled Leif in, too, because it was the four of them making out now. That went on for quite a while before they finally sat back. Jonah had a powerful arm around Howie’s shoulder like it belonged there, and Howie wasn’t about to be anywhere that arm wasn’t for the rest of his life. He felt a hand caressing his back, too, though, which meant…

He looked over and felt his jaw drop. “Oh, so that’s how you get to be better than Ken at cuddling,” Leif said, taking in Jonah’s new complement of four beautiful, brawny arms. “Interesting.”

“I dunno, Orensen,” Ken said dryly. “With this much cock I dunno if I’ll have time to cuddle. At least the first couple of rounds.”

They all looked at Ken’s lap in astonishment. Piled like a cascade of heavy, iron-hard cockflesh were five of Ken’s thick, curved, newly footlong cocks. Ken looked like having a pile of that many aching, leaky boners had upped his arousal and need considerably—he was giving Leif a hungry, almost predatory look.

“Uhhhh…” Leif said, staring at Ken’s cock overload like his circuit breakers had tripped.

“We should probably finish the turn,” Jonah nudged, though the way he was hugging and sensually caressing Howie at that moment suggested he was also interested in leaving the game behind, and sooner rather than later.

Just then Jonah’s last answer hit him. Was he… was he faster than Leif now? Like, “a lot” faster, the way Ken having five cocks was “a lot” more than Jonah’s two? No. Was that…? Geez Louise, he had to get into a pool. No, screw that. First he had to suck Jonah’s hard, fat, stubby cocks, and maybe fuck Jonah’s brains out and let Jonah cuddle the hell out of him for a day or two. Then he needed to get into a pool.

Ken held Leif’s heated stare as he wordlessly handed him the cards. Leif took them and tore his eyes away with an effort. He cleared his throat and read, “What do all of you have, that you should all have a limitless supply of?”

Howie looked at Jonah, half-expecting something lewd, but Jonah looked right at him and said, “Love.”

Howie gazed at Jonah like he’d already been gifted with an infinite reservoir of that precious resource. He wanted to be looking at that face forever. “Beauty,” he said, hoping Jonah, and the game, understood what he meant. Jonah smiled and nodded slightly.

“Cum,” Ken said. “Can we fuck now? ‘Cause I really need to fuck now.”

Grinning, Leif pulled them all into another four-way kiss, and soon they were letting their climaxes release freely, cumming and cumming and cumming because it felt good and they could nut as much as they wanted, endlessly and forever. The kiss broke into pairs, and Howie lost track of Leif and Ken as he climbed onto Jonah’s lap and they wrapped all their arms around each other, kissing each other with unhurried passion as they continued to cum sporadically, painting each other’s tanned, sexy bodies with gout after gout of hot, sweet jizz. When they eventually clambered to their feet, Howie saw that Ken and Leif were long gone, the deck abandoned on the smooth hardwood floor. The sounds of the storm and sea seemed to fall away as Howie and Jonah held hands twice over and headed for the bedrooms. Unlike Ken and Leif, Howie was in no rush. He might be crazy fast in the water now, but with Jonah, he was more than happy to take it slow.