"Mitchell, man, whatever I'm doing," Jeff had assured him, "me getting reamed by the hottest QB on the team, 'watching game film' with Coach, taking a shit, you name it - you are always fucking invited."
••••••••
"I'll be in in a few minutes," Mitchell said when Coach and Finn headed inside.
"I want to rinse off first." Then he hopped into the hot tub with Jeff and Max. He and Jeff made eye contact, and whether it was the shit eating grin on Mitchell's face or the one of immense satisfaction on Jeff's, or the sense of giddiness that accompanies love or infatuation and the happiness the friends felt for each other, or simply that they were enjoying their friendship - or some or all of any of those things - both of them cracked up, and one's laughter fed the other's and then drew Max in as well, such that the three of them were soon laughing (almost) uncontrollably.
After they finally managed to stop, Mitchell said, "C'mere, fucker, I love you, give me a fucking hug," and threw his arms open to Jeff. Jeff and Mitchell hugged each other tight, pressing their hard, wet bodies together, their fat penises mashed or rubbing together, the two bros laughing again, though not as hard. That wasn't exactly, or entirely, a sexual moment, but it wasn't strictly a platonic one either, and both of them must have felt the other's accidentally swelling penis.
In fact, Mitchell fleetingly entertained the idea of kissing Jeff in that moment and, recalling the extraordinary act of kindness Max had shown him in the shower room, then kissing Max, too, neither contemplated kiss a 'friendly' one but a lover's kiss. Jeff no doubt would have kissed Mitchell had Max not been present, and had Mitchell kissed him then, Jeff would have returned the kiss, Max or no Max. Max, too, recognized the undercurrent of sexuality running between Mitchell and Jeff, and recalling how fucking good Mitchell had felt inside him for those two minutes in the shower room, briefly considered that the three of them finding a bed in which to spend the remainder of the night together wouldn't be such a bad thing at all, even though he wasn't quite ready to share Jeff. But that moment had passed, and Mitchell had gone inside to watch Coach fuck Finn in his sweet ass for the second time.
••••••••
"Better stick it in, Coach," Finn had said, "before I change my mind and ask that ginger horse hung guy with the lizard tongue to fuck me instead."
...............................................................................................................................................................
The second time Finn got fucked in the ass was very much like the first, with a few small but important differences, but Mitchell didn't know anything about the differences since he hadn't been present the first time. The most immediately recognizable difference to anyone who had witnessed (or lived through) both, would have been that Finn was on his hands and knees, ass up and head and chest tucked, rather than on his back with his knees pulled to his chest.
Another obvious difference (if you checked underneath him, as Mitchell did) was that Finn was hard throughout much of the second fucking. During that first fucking, Finn had mostly been flaccid, with his fat, beer can cock flopping and bouncing all over (and beyond) his neatly trimmed patch of cotton blond pubic hair, a visual that Jeff had found especially hot. A third difference was that while there were still a number of brief pauses in the action, there weren't as many and they were all much shorter than during Finn's first time to bottom. The most important difference, although not with respect to the actual fucking of Finn, but as concerned Mitchell and what happened later, was probably the fact that there wasn't another couple fucking in the love lounge in the corner of the room. Of course, Mitchell hadn't known anything about that second couple fucking in the same love lounge into which he eventually settled to watch Coach put the wood to Finn.
