The Story of Chris
Chapter 4 - Exhibitionism and Voyeurism
"It is just so cool that you have a boat," Wilson said enthusiastically.
It was Saturday afternoon, and Chris and Wilson were out on Chris's boat. Chris was at the tiller and Wilson was sitting next to him, looking out to sea, his eyes bright in the sunlight.
"Part-own," Chris corrected. Chris co-owned the boat with a friend of his called Linus and a couple of other guys; Linus was away on business more often than not, and the other guys lived quite a way away from the sea, so Chris was able to use it pretty much when he wanted.
"Still cool." Wilson eyed the controls. "Can I have a go?"
"You sail?" Chris said, cautious about entrusting the boat to anyone else. He would have his co-owners to answer to if anything went wrong.
"Used to." Wilson hesitated. "House and me used to go sailing sometimes... Haven't done it for years though."
Chris was spotting a theme. Invariably, Wilson had once been good but was now rusty at whatever activity they tried. Last week it had been golf. Before that, fishing. Chris was coming to realize gradually that Wilson had stopped doing a lot of things when House had been unable to do them any more. He still had some difficulty reconciling the fact that House was a cripple with the recollection of House ten years before. Chris had bumped into House a couple of times in Princeton since that first confrontation in House's apartment, just for a few moments at a time, and they had... circled each other warily was the best description Chris could think of.
"Nobody else you could sail with?" Chris asked carefully.
"Not really," Wilson said, now sounding uncomfortable.
Chris thought about how demanding of Wilson House seemed to be even now, and wondered what it had been like just after House had been crippled. He suspected having House around didn't allow Wilson much time for other friends.
He let Wilson sail for a bit, and then they stopped and just let the boat drift for a while. Wilson stretched out on the deck and fell asleep. Chris watched him fondly. He was coming to very much enjoy these long, drowsy, relaxed day times at the weekend with Wilson—out at sea, on the beach, in the pool. Wilson could spend hours just sitting in Chris's kitchen with a tall drink, a newspaper and the sea view, and Chris could spend hours just watching him.
In contrast, their Saturday evenings and night times were busy and hyperactive, as they usually spent them at Chris's club a little way down the coast; the club Wilson and House had visited during their brief encounter with Chris ten years before. Chris liked to go there on Saturday night, its busiest time. He usually spent a bit of time up in his office there sorting out paperwork. Meanwhile Wilson hung out in the main bar downstairs, watching ball games on the big screen TV, dining on burgers and fries, and occasionally bopping along on the dance floor. Later they would meet in the upstairs bar, which was invitation only, and drink good quality whisky and play poker. Within a short space of time all the staff and most of the upstairs bar regulars knew Wilson by sight.
Chris was in his office in was early hours of the morning the day after they'd been sailing. The light was dim, the room lit only by his desk lamp. He was at his desk musing over accounts when suddenly the door opened and two men came in. One was a guy Chris knew slightly called Damian; he didn't know the other. But from the way they were clinging to each other, it looked like Damian knew him well.
"Hey, Chris," Damian said breathlessly. "We were just making out downstairs and your bartender told us to get a room already." His companion giggled into his neck, and Damian carried on, "Wondered if we could use the casting couch?"
Chris had an old couch in the corner of his office which had been nicknamed the casting couch many years ago.
"Be my guest," Chris said smoothly, putting down his pen and leaning back in his chair. "If you don't mind an audience."
"Sure thing." Damian shut the door behind him and practically fell onto the couch with his companion.
Chris felt the stirrings of an erection as he watched the men on the couch grapple with each other. And then he felt the ghost of a breath on his neck, followed by teeth gently nibbling his ear. Chris hadn't forgotten Wilson was in the room, curled up, half asleep, in an armchair in the corner. He'd wanted to see what happened, how Wilson reacted, figuring Wilson was quite capable of letting him know if he wasn't happy. But Wilson was staring at the couch in fascination.
Wilson continued to nuzzle Chris's shoulder as the men on the couch started to remove clothes. Chris stretched out a little in the chair and reached backwards to ruffle Wilson's hair. The two of them watched for a few more minutes, and as Damian and his companion really started to get serious, Wilson moved to come and perch on the side of Chris's chair. It was a large leather desk chair and there was just room for Wilson to sit, half on Chris's knee. Chris put an arm round Wilson's neck and kissed the back of his head. Wilson shifted his weight across slightly so his ass rested partly on Chris's groin; Chris moved a little, and rubbed his cock up against Wilson's jean-clad ass.
The men on the couch were both on hands and knees and really fucking with a vengeance now; Chris could hear Wilson's breathing getting faster. Then Wilson swung round to straddle Chris on the chair. Their mouths met and they kissed hungrily, passionately, and each groped to undo the other's fly. Wilson murmured "Chris," as their cocks met, throbbing, and Chris bit his lip and tasted blood as he felt the head of his cock rubbing up against the very tip of Wilson's, sensitive skin sliding against sensitive skin, fuck! He reached out to cup Wilson's balls in his hand. Then at the sound of the men in the background reaching a noisy climax, Wilson cried out almost in an echo. He came all over Chris's chest, spurting hot come over Chris's shirt front. Chris grasped his own cock and came almost immediately himself, jerking madly against Wilson's body.
Afterwards Wilson slumped down against Chris's chest, breathing heavily. Chris opened his eyes a moment later to peer over Wilson's shoulder, and saw the two men entwined on the couch both looking at them with wide, amused, eyes.
"Thanks for the show, guys," Chris muttered.
"Can see you enjoyed it," Damian said, his voice puffing. "You should join us over here next time."
"Maybe," Chris responded, and felt Wilson's breath quicken a little on his neck.
A little later, after the occupants of the casting couch had left, Wilson remarked to Chris softly, "You like to watch. And to be watched."
"We've all got our kinks, right?" Chris stroked Wilson's hair. Wilson leaned into his hand. "It's not a big thing. I just take it when it happens." He looked at Wilson. "But you already knew that, didn't you? You got it all first hand when we met ten years ago."
"Yeah." Wilson agreed, eyes distant now, remembering. Chris thought about it too; how he'd fucked Wilson in that motel room with House sitting there watching; how he'd sat on the beach, watching House fuck Wilson into the sand.
Chris wondered, a little uncomfortably, what it would be like to do such a thing now. He knew it wouldn't be like it had been before; they'd all been strangers then. Chris knew both too much and too little now about House and Wilson and their emotional fuckwittage. He decided not to think about it; he might run into House occasionally, but it wasn't as if the opportunity was likely to occur.
But the opportunity did occur with others. A couple of weeks after that first voyeuristic occasion, Damian turned up again in Chris's office one evening with the same proposal and a different companion. Wilson was actually sitting on the casting couch when they came in the office this time, and he didn't move, he stayed there close to the action; and when Damian reached out for him, hissing, "Wanna fuck me, gorgeous?" Wilson nodded, eyes huge and glowing, and went along with it.
Chris didn't join in, except that he gently rolled the condom onto Wilson's dick himself, but found the whole thing completely erotic and jerked off while sitting at his desk chair a few feet away.
END OF CHAPTER. TBC