Dedication: They say it takes a village to raise a
child. This story is proof that it takes
two wonderful betas and a very loving partner to write a story. Authors may spend hours writing the words but
betas are what turn those words into a polished, cohesive story that’s not
riddled with skipped words, misspellings and contradictions. It might not take quite as long to beta as
write the story but it’s a much harder task and often a thankless one. Please keep the hidden talent behind the
curtain in mind when you read my stories or any other good author. So, to K and A – my heartfelt thanks for
everything – much more then just beta’ing. As always, my thanks and love to M - no story
would be possible without him.
Dash 4/16/2008
************
Just
off Peachtree
By Dash
I took a deep breath and stretched slightly, the feel and warmth of
another body in bed jarring me awake as the events of the night came flooding
back. Yawning widely but silently to
wake up, I leaned up slightly on my elbows and studied the younger man fast
asleep next to me. He was cute, a bit
younger than I usually dated, but not so young that he would qualify as jail
bait. His dark brown hair was a little
too long and starting to curl slightly around the edges. It had been years since I had woken up in a
strange man’s bed, my clothes in a rumpled pile on a chair and only a vague
memory of the other guy’s name.
“John”, a voice inside my
head supplied after a moment digging through the memory files. “Or Jon, maybe short for Jonathan. God, I hope it’s not Jonathan; I’ve never
liked Jonathan for a name. But Jon at
least is better then Jonty, what a stupid name that is. Only the English would think that’s an
appropriate name but then again, they always seem to have those unique
nicknames for people. The English are
just unique in general; it must be from being trapped on a little island for
centuries and going a bit stir crazy when not colonizing the world. But then again, not all English are that
different, remember that nice guy six, seven years ago? Stewart maybe? He was a good fuck, very responsive and not
at all interested in closing his eyes and thinking of the empire, just that
weird thing about canes. And really,
what’s the appeal with canes? Let’s just assume it’s John and hope for the
best.”
Cutting off the internal dialogue running through my head, I yawned
again and concentrated on slowly slipping out of bed and padding toward my
clothes. It was still dark outside and
the clock on the dresser across the room read 4:23. I grabbed my clothes and took them into the
living room of the darkened apartment and quietly got dressed. Feeling guilty about the shoot and run routine,
I took a pad of paper by the phone and quickly wrote out a note.
“Didn’t want to wake you up, but I have to meet friends this
morning. Yesterday and last night were
great – I really enjoyed meeting you for the game and …”
And exactly what goes after "and"? And the sex?
And everything? And you? What
would Miss Manners say was the proper wording for a Fleeing After Sex in the
Middle of the Night note? I paused for a
minute, thinking back to my conversation with Mike a few days before when he
gave me the Braves ticket and told me about John and even though he didn’t
think the guy had just come out, he still seemed young to me and not that
experienced. I sure as hell didn’t want
to hurt him, but I also refused to be too vulgar either.
Picking the pen back up, I finished the note “and the rest of the
evening. You were great and I hope to
see you around soon.” There, nice,
friendly, small stroking of the ego since really, the guy wasn’t that great,
with a friendly sign-off that left the door open to seeing each other again if
he wanted, but no promises either. Just
what Miss Manners would advise, if she ever gave advice on how to write a note
for this situation. Jotting down my
phone number under my name, I stared at it a second later realizing what I had
done and trying to understand it. I
didn’t want this guy to call me really.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t call, but I also wasn’t planning on asking
Mike for his number to call him. This
was a one night thing, a fun mutual jerk off session and nothing else. He was too young and more importantly, I
wasn’t interested. The wounds left by
Terry were still too fresh and raw and I didn’t even know what I was looking
for. The kind of relationship I thought
I wanted had turned into a nightmare and it or any sort of relationship wasn’t
something I was ready to repeat in the near future.
I put it down on the counter’s edge where he’d be sure to see it in the
morning and quietly slipped out of the apartment door. As I closed it behind me and headed down the
steps I smiled and took a deep breath of the warm, humid summer air. It might not have been that great, first
times with someone rarely are, but it really had been too long since Terry and
too many nights alone. It felt good to
be with someone again and to feel them respond to your touch and to feel their
mouth and hands on you. All in all, a
very good 12 hours.
My car was parked under one of the numerous street lights in the
apartment’s lot and I was pleased to see it had not been broken into or
vandalized. The complex really wasn’t
that bad, your normal middle class one or two bedroom places that were filled
with twenty-somethings living away from mom and dad
and dorms for the first time. Not bad
and I had certainly lived in my share of such places, but now, at the ripe age
of 32, they were a reminder of poorer and more transient times with thin walls
and annoying neighbors, schlepping groceries through the rain and up exposed
steps. I had bought my first home three
years ago, 18 months after my comic strip began to run nationally. It was a small cottage really, but it was all
mine and complete with an attached garage.
Judging by my conversation last night with John, I figured he too would
be making the adult move in the next year or so out of
Sitting at the drawing table in my office later that day just sketching
for fun and trying to get inspired to start my actual work, I was shocked when
my pencil lines produced a good likeness of John asleep like I had seen him
this morning. Crumbling it up, I tossed
it in the trash can and immediately felt bad for the action. I tried to ignore it and concentrated on the
primitive story board I was working on that would direct my comic for the next
month.
There was no reason to be thinking of John, I lectured myself as I bent
my head, adjusted my light and got to work.
I had called Mike an hour earlier with a full report of how it had gone
and to thank him for the ticket and that was the last thing I had to do to
firmly file yesterday into the Fun & Brief Experiences file of my life.
“Eric! Hey – hate to break it to you, but you’re late, man,” he said
with a chuckle. “I already know it was a
complete success.”
“How did you know that? Just the
fact that I didn’t call you at midnight to complain?” I asked back.
“No, John called around ten this morning to thank me. Said he really liked you and I’m sure you’ll
be hearing from him.” Mike paused for a
moment before adding, “I was a little surprised you gave him your phone number,
but I’m glad you did. I think it’ll be
good for you.”
I laughed, “Yeah, I have no idea why I gave him my number. I was just writing him a note this morning
and I looked down and it was like it had just appeared. I hadn’t really planned on it or planned on
seeing him again.”
“Didn’t you like him?”
“Oh yeah,” I corrected and then paused, searching for the words. “I don’t know really. I liked him, he’s a nice guy and easy to talk
to. But you know, I’m just not sure I’m
ready or what I want or anything.” I
waved my hand in the air as if my friend could see me. “I don’t really
know. Plus, he’s a little young and
inexperienced for me. Like I said, I’m
not into the angst that too many guys like that bring to the table. Let someone
else break him in and teach him the ways of the world. I’d be more interested in him then.”
“He’s never struck me as a high drama kind of guy,” Mike countered. “He’s very low key and level at work. Some athletes are real prima donnas, but I
don’t get that feeling from him. Sharing
ideas and credit on projects seems to come naturally to him. He’s very good at what he does, smart without
being obnoxious and actually comes across as more mature than his years. I guess it’s from playing sports; the whole
pressure to perform part taught him well.”
Shaking my head, I struggled to find the right words again. “No, I
don’t mean that kind of drama really and I agree, he’s a very nice guy. More that … I just don’t think he’s had that
much experience Out of the closet yet or even with guys.” I was never one to be too indiscreet about my
bedroom activities, figuring they were between me and the other guy and not for
third parties, but added slowly, “Let’s just say he was enthusiastic about the
idea, but the actual execution left a lot to be desired. I just get the feeling that, while I wasn’t
his first, I sure wasn’t his tenth either.”
“Maybe he’s just an old fashioned kind of guy, Eric and doesn’t believe
that jumping into bed is the perfect way to end an evening,” Mike said with a
chuckle. “Plus, I can think of much
worse things than a young, enthusiastic lover who is looking to be guided and
encouraged and helped.”
At those words, I made a face. “And that’s exactly what I don’t
want. My time of guiding and encouraging
and helping is long past. I tried that
and I’m not going down that road again.”
“I know, but that was more Terry and not you. It had nothing to do with you,” Mike said
softly.
“Yeah, whatever,” I said in a flat voice, unwilling to rehash the past
I was trying so hard to put behind me.
“He’s a nice guy and I just wanted to call and thank you for the ticket
and for introducing him to me. Even if
nothing comes from it, it was a great night and I think made me see that you
were right …”
“Too many nights with Jergens?” Mike said,
interrupting.
I blushed slightly even as I laughed.
“Something like that. I’ll let
you run, but let’s plan on dinner this week.”
Hanging up a few minutes later after agreeing on dinner Thursday night,
I had tried to push the young man with slightly too long dark curly hair out of
my mind. And now, my mind had betrayed
me and pushed him firmly back in and out onto paper.
I worked on my story board for almost three hours until I was satisfied
that I had enough of my ideas sketched out that I would be able to start the
next arc of my main character – Bob’s - life.
The Powers that Be and Bob and his life of cube drudgery were a
fun escape for me and it was both challenging and exciting to come up with new
story lines that could be told in three to four panels a day over a week.
Getting up, I was surprised to see it was almost seven and my stomach was
starting to protest its prolonged emptiness.
Ten minutes later, a frozen pizza with extra cheese added was starting
to cook in the oven and I was sitting in front of the TV looking to see what
was on. Sunday evenings were always
particularly bad for television and I settled on a Braves game. The sound of the crowd took me immediately
back to the previous night and John, exactly where I didn’t want to be.
He was a big sports fan and had played ball for over ten years growing
up, but was now an avid rugby player after picking it up one summer during a
college exchange program in
The game ended a little after ten and it had seemed natural since I had
driven down to the game while he had caught the train for me to offer to take
him home. Stopping on the way back to
his place for food, we had chatted for another hour about nothing in
particular. It had just felt good to
laugh and talk with someone without any of the pressure of having to impress
him or even worry about a second date.
In my reality, he had never stood a chance of getting a second date; I
just wasn’t ready and wasn’t interested.
I’m not sure if it was the slightly shy way he had asked if I wanted to
come up for a drink as I pulled into his apartment complex, the heady
excitement of the whole evening or just, as Mike was insisting, too long since
I’d actually had sex, but the idea of actually bedding him suddenly seemed like
a very good one.
“Come on in,” John said as he unlocked the door and flipped on the
light. It was a neat apartment, your
standard stark white living room decorated with what looked like parental
cast-offs, a bar for eating separating
the small galley style kitchen from the rest of the area. Down a small hall was the apartment’s only bathroom,
small closet laundry room and a decent size bedroom. “Do you want something to drink?”
I smiled what I hoped was a friendly and not wolfish smile at him and
nodded, “That would be great, thanks.”
He seemed a bit nervous all of a sudden and I wondered if he was having
second thoughts. Trying to put him at
ease, I roamed around the small living room and studied his pictures on top of
the TV. “Is this your family?” I asked,
nodding toward a smiling group of people in a garden. One of the women was in a wedding dress and
the men, including John, were all in tuxes.
“Yeah, that was taken at my oldest brother Jason’s wedding last
year. Those are my parents and the other
guy is my younger brother Andrew. He
just got married last month.” Carrying a
glass of orange juice, he joined me in front of the pictures. “Sorry, I don’t have anything else,” he said apologetically handing me the glass.
“Don’t worry about it, this is perfect.” I took a sip and asked, “Do your brothers
live here?”
“No, they all live in
I sighed inwardly, the guy still sounded nervous and tense and I was
beginning to think that when he asked if I wanted to come up for a drink, that
was all he was asking. “I’ve always
wanted to go to
Following me, John sat down and shifted toward me as I sat down next to
him. “It really is.” Smiling, he added softly, “Maybe I can show
you around there some time.” He licked
his lips and shifted again slightly on the couch cushions.
I had glanced at the clock in the kitchen as I was moving toward the
couch and decided enough with the games.
Either something was going to happen or I was going to finish my juice
and get out of there. I didn’t turn into
a pumpkin at midnight, but I also wasn’t in the mood to sit around some guy’s
apartment for hours swapping stories either.
Smiling back at him, I leaned in closer and kissed him gently on the
lips, whispering, “I’d like that.” Just
a small, gentle, kiss to judge his reaction and see if he’d respond or
freak. “I’ve always heard good things
about southern gentlemen.”
He smiled and said, “And what good things have you heard?”
Damn, I was out of practice with this sort of coy teasing and courting
of relationships and would rather have just been jumped or gotten a clear
invitation that he was open to being jumped and been done with it. Moving toward him, I laid a hand on his leg,
allowing my fingers to curl down his jeans and slowly kissed him again. “I’ve heard they’re very responsive, talented
and hot blooded.” Good god, that sounded
so stupid and like a line out of Deliverance.
I was obviously way out of practice.
Hoping that if I maybe caused all his blood to suddenly rush to his cock
and away from his brain, he wouldn’t notice the idiotic words coming of my
mouth, I pressed on. Kissing him again,
I gently pushed my tongue against his unresisting lips and briefly inside and
then laid soft kisses down his chin and around his jaw. Moving closer to him, my hand traveled up the
length of his inner thigh until it came to rest against his zipper and the
growing bulge underneath it. I cupped it
and ran my thumb roughly down the length of his zipper. “It looks like that rumor might be true,” I
said, leaning in and kissing him on the lips again. His mouth opened slightly, teasingly allowing
my tongue brief access before he pulled away slightly.
“It might be,” John said as he shifted again and then, thankfully,
removed all doubt about his desires.
Putting his hand over my hand that was still cupping him, he leaned in
and kissed me back. “Do you want to take
this some place more comfortable?”
Sitting down on the edge of his bed and toeing off my shoes, I glanced
around the room while John locked up in the living room. It was a neat room and, like the living room,
stark white and seemed to be furnished with cast-offs. Given the fact that he had two brothers who
had just been married, I wasn’t surprised if he had inherited sibling furniture
not up to new wives’ tastes. I stood up
and unbuttoned my jeans as he came in.
He flipped off the overhead light and plunged the room into half
darkness with the bright parking lot light streaming in from the half-opened
shade. Turning on the only bedside
light, he smiled at me. “Let me,” he
said with a grin and reached for my jeans.
“Are you sure?” I asked quietly, still a bit unsure of his experience
or comfort level. “I’d love to finish
what I started on the couch earlier too.”
Leaning in close, he kissed me gently on the lips, his tongue staying
firmly in his own mouth and not daring to invade my space. “I’m sure, Eric. I want to do this for you.” His hands gently undid my jean zipper and
brought it down slowly.
I could see the blush rising on his cheeks and the slight uncertainty
in his eyes. Definitely not that
experienced, I decided. I remembered my
first few times and the mix of excitement and fear that churned in my stomach
and took pity on him. He was a nice guy
and obviously wanted to please me and I was going to do my best to help him
along. “Come here,” I whispered, pulling
him closer and stretching up to kiss him.
Mike had been right and he was a couple of inches taller than me. Reaching between us, I brought one of his
unresisting hands to my own cock and placed it on the cotton covering
material. “Your touch feels so good,” I
whispered between kisses. Groaning
softly as his hand moved hesitantly along my growing cock, I smiled and kissed
him again. “Yes, like that.”
John shifted, moving his hand back and forth for several more moments
before finally bringing his other hand up and putting it on my hip. I felt him hesitate for a moment, his hand
stilling on my cock, until I whispered again, “Go on, John. Your hand feels so good. I can’t wait to feel you on my skin.”
He smiled, kissing me with more passion and enthusiasm than he had
previously before dropping quickly to his knees and pushing my jeans further
apart. With both hands now resting on my
hips, he gently nudged the cotton material with his mouth and nose, causing me
to harden even further.
Bracing myself with both hands on his shoulders to hold myself steady
and to remain in contact with him, I closed my eyes, shifting my legs further
apart. I tried hard not to grip his
shoulders too hard as one of his hands came up and pulled my cock free of its
cotton prison and his warm mouth engulfed it.
It had been so long since it had been touched by something other than my
own hand, I was afraid I was going to come almost immediately. “Yes, god you feel good,” I whispered, my
eyes still closed and my hands on his shoulders as I struggled to maintain some
control. He was enthusiastic if slightly
unskilled in his approach, but after so long it didn’t really matter. The warmth, the sensations of being fully
engulfed and the movement of his lips and tongue were enough to bring me to the
edge. “I’m coming,” I said, trying to
give him fair warning if he didn’t want me to come in his mouth. Undeterred, he took me deeper into his throat
than he had before as I came hard.
A moment later, he stood up, licking his lips slightly and smiling
broadly. Kissing me, he whispered, “Was
that good?”
My legs felt like jelly and I was struggling to catch my breath as I smiled at him. “That was better than good, John. You’re very talented.” My small lie was rewarded with a beautiful
smile that left a warm feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with his
efforts. “Come here,” I whispered,
drawing him closer and putting my hands on his jeans. “I think it’s time that you got a bit more
comfortable.”
The beeping timer from my oven
brought me back to my living room and away from the activities of last
night. I had brought him to the edge
twice with my hand before finally finishing him off with my own mouth and then
we had lain awake for some time afterwards talking and kissing and
touching. We both came again before we
finally fell asleep together. I silenced
the beeping and quickly sliced the pizza, carrying half of it into the living
room for my dinner, making a quick bypass into my office and retrieving the
drawing from the trash. I tried hard not
to think about what that meant as I concentrated on the game, my dinner and
decidedly not on the young man from last night.
*******************
Tuesday afternoon was a beautiful day with a nice breeze that broke the
heat and humidity of a typical late July day in
Pressing the answering machine’s play back button as I headed into the
kitchen for water, I was shocked to hear John’s voice on the machine.
“Hey Eric, it’s John McAllister … from Saturday night,” he said
hesitantly. “I had a great time and I
was wondering if you wanted to get together for drinks and maybe dinner maybe
tomorrow night. I know it’s late notice
and I’ll understand if you can’t, but I was hoping maybe you’d want to. You can give me a call at home and let me
know if you want to. Talk to you soon
... hopefully.” He paused again before
quickly spitting out his phone number, adding, “Thanks,” and hanging up.
I smiled at the sound of his voice and then immediately frowned at my
reaction. I didn’t want to hear from him
again, I didn’t want to have to turn him down for dinner, but I also wasn’t
interested. Writing down my number was
the stupidest thing in the world and I should have ripped the paper out and
rewritten the note when I saw what I had accidentally done. It was mean and cruel to lead this poor guy
on and give him hope that something might happen. He was too young, too inexperienced, probably
too much drama and I wasn’t looking to be in a relationship with anyone.
Taking a sip of my water, I walked back into the living room and hit
play again to take down his number so I could return his call. It was just after four o’clock and I intended
to take the coward’s way out and leave a message while he was still at
work. But just as I finished writing
down his number, one of the editors my agent and I were working with called to
discuss an upcoming meeting. That took
an hour and then one of my aunts called to report that one of the political
cartoons I had drawn appeared in their Sunday paper and how she was so proud,
she had shown it to all her friends and had already cut it out and put it on
her refrigerator. I loved my Aunt
Tillie, my father’s adopted sister, but she could talk endlessly and it took me
another 45 minutes to say good bye to her.
I glanced at the clock and made a face at the time. Picking up the phone, I quickly dialed John’s
phone number and hoped that he would have been either working late or just not
home yet. Happily, his machine clicked
on after two rings and a moment later, I began my message after the beep. “Hey John, it’s Eric. It’s about six, but I guess you’re not home
yet. I’m sorry to have missed you. I got your message …”
“Hi!” he said, interrupting me and causing the machine to click off as
he picked up the phone. “I’m here, sorry
about that.” He laughed slightly
breathlessly as he continued, “I was just coming in and heard the phone while I
was unlocking the door.”
I smiled at the sound of his voice before I reminded myself that I had
wanted to leave a message. “I can call
you back later if you want.”
He laughed again, instantly reminding me of all the laughing we had
done Saturday night, and said, “No, this is fine. I’m glad you called.”
“I’m glad I got you and I was glad you called too,” I said softly,
suddenly unsure if I was actually lying or not. Even as my mind was rehearsing the So sorry
– busy on Wednesday line I had mentally composed, I heard myself say,
“Wednesday would be great for me. I’d
love to have drinks somewhere.”
“Great!” he said, the enthusiasm clear in his voice.
Trying to recover from my obvious mental break down, I quickly added,
“I won’t be able to do dinner though. I
have plans already for seven.”
“No problem, that works out fine with me. Why don’t we meet at six then for
drinks? It’ll be a nice end to the day
and a good way to unwind a bit.”
We made arrangements to meet at a local restaurant about half way
between my house and his work at six the next evening. As I hung up, I mentally kicked myself and
wondered if I should have my head examined.
Maybe I had hit it somehow and didn’t remember or was developing a
tumor. There was no other explanation
for my actions and for leading this guy on when I clearly wasn’t interested and
didn’t want a relationship.
Despite myself, I dressed with unusual care the next evening and
changed out of my usual summer uniform of jeans and a t-shirt into freshly
pressed khaki slacks and a red polo.
Walking into the restaurant five minutes early, I immediately spotted
John. He was dressed in a while button
down and blue suit pants. His tie was
slightly undone and he looked nervous while he played with a straw
wrapper. Discreetly studying him through
the screen separating the foyer from the main restaurant for a moment, I
lectured myself on all the reasons I wasn’t interested and how I didn’t want a
relationship no matter how cute he was.
When I felt ready, I walked around the corner and smiled at him. His smile as he saw me caused my internal
lecture and all points previously rationalized to flee my rational brain
immediately, leaving me only my emotions.
We immediately fell back into the easy flow of conversation and
connection we had had at the ball game and I could see John start to
relax.
“So you’re involved with a rugby team here in
He smiled and nodded, “Yeah, for the last few years. The season is from January to April and I
play almost every game. The team leader, Martin, and I are good friends and
he’s really taught me a lot. He played
in college too, for
I laughed and shook my head, “No, I was never any good at team sports
really. I was a nerd in high school and
preferred to hide out in the art department whenever possible. One of those
kids whose notebooks were more filled with drawings then actual notes and actually
volunteered to help do the pep rally signs.
I jog and swim and occasionally play tennis, but I’m not that good at
it. I was with Alta for awhile but …” My voice trailed off as I shook my head.
“Just not for you, huh?” he asked with a smile.
“No and they do mostly partners which isn’t my style. I prefer to be in charge and control the
outcome as much as I can.”
John laughed again, “I think that’s exactly why I like team sports so
much. If you lose, it’s not entirely
your fault and even if you do screw up, hopefully there’s someone else there to
help make up for it. You can help with
the defeat, but in reality, it’s never solely your fault.” He paused, giving me a half smile. “It took a
couple of years with my college coach to get that message across. It was – without a doubt – not the philosophy
my high school coaches believed in.” He
laughed, quickly covering up the high pressure and critical history I could
still tell was hidden in those words.
“I bet you never screw up though,” I added. “You seem to know exactly what you’re doing
and I bet you play great.”
He laughed again and blushed slightly, shaking his head. “Trust me, looks can be deceiving.” Growing still, he glanced down at his drink
and swirled it in his hand as if suddenly thinking of something.
Not wanting the conversation to turn serious, I changed the
subject. “So you said Saturday you’ve
lived here for about three years now?”
Jumping at the change in subject, John nodded and the conversation
flowed easily into mutual shared experiences of moving to such a large new town
and all the challenges faced with such a move.
“So was that your first boyfriend,” I asked casually after John
finished recounting a funny story about his roommate from college that had
moved to
He shook his head, “No, he was straight actually and is now living with
his girlfriend. I figured out I was gay
probably around 16 or so and actually lost my virginity to a nice college
student in Charleston the summer after my junior year in high school.” He laughed and blushed, “What a disaster that
was and god, when I see pictures of him now, I do wonder what I was
thinking.” He tapped at his chin,
adding, “He had this strange half goatee thing with small growth lines along
his jaw …” Shaking his head, he laughed
again, “No telling what I was thinking about then.”
I laughed too, “You probably weren’t thinking with your head at the
time.”
“Or at least not with this head,” he countered, tipping his head
slightly with another laugh.
We talked for another ten minutes before I glanced at my watch and
reluctantly said, “I hate to cut this short, but I need to get going. I’m meeting a friend at seven for
dinner.” Sliding out of the booth, I put
down some money for our tab before John could reach for his wallet. “Here,” I said as he started to protest. “I’ll get it.”
“But I asked you,” he said, still reaching for his wallet.
I shook my head. “You bought me juice Saturday evening so it’s my
turn.” I saw him blush at the mention of
Saturday night and grinned at his reaction.
Raising an eyebrow, I chuckled at him.
He laughed back and slid out of the booth and stood up too so we could
walk out together. “Thanks,” he said as
we started out of the restaurant.
Holding out my hand, I shook his. “I had a great time. I’m glad you called.” It was a struggle for me not to add anything
about a next time or seeing him soon or any sort of words of encouragement.
“Yeah, me too,” he said shaking my hand firmly, but not aggressively.
I smiled and then stepped away, giving him a small wave as I got my car
and unlocked it, driving away and back to my house and left over pizza from
Sunday. Even as I was congratulating
myself on escaping without another mental break down and agreeing to dinner, I
was struggling to push away the small pang of guilt for the lie. Maybe I was being too hard on the guy? He was nice, easy to talk to and certainly
cute. Was it wrong to date him for a few
month, teach him a bit, use him a bit and then go our separate ways as casual
friends when it became clear we didn’t have that much in common? He was a jock, I wasn’t. I was an artist of sorts, he was in
banking. He needed a teacher and mentor
and I wasn’t interested in filling that role again or anything close to it. A few sex tips for our mutual benefit was
about all I was willing to share and I got the feeling he needed and wanted
more than that.
My resolve not to get involved with John was confirmed that night when
I dreamed of Terry for the first time in several months. It was about the night I first met him, but
as I later found out, he had seen me several times previously and had wanted to
meet me.
I was there with my mentor, friend and quasi-former lover Richard. We
were enjoying a drink and the sights of a normal Saturday evening at one of
“How about him?” Richard asked nodding toward a cute red-headed guy
chatting with a tall black Top.
I shook my head. “I actually know him and he’s in way deeper than I’m
interested. Very much into the M part of
S&M and I can’t do that.”
He laughed, taking a sip of wine, “You’re going to have to get over
this aversion you have to causing pain, Eric.
It can be a great teaching method and deterrent and can help the best
relationship run smoothly.”
“I don’t have a problem with that part,” I countered smoothly, long
used to this debate. “I just am not
interested in causing pain for the simple pleasure of causing pain. That doesn’t do anything for me.”
Richard sighed and took another sip of his wine. “Well, I think he’s cute and I see he’s
free…”
“Go on then,” I said with a laugh and wave of my hand, “Go see if you
can’t find a new play thing to keep you occupied.”
“While you sit here and try to conjure up Mr. Perfect just by wishing
for him,” he said, even as he stood up from the small round table. “I’ll be back.”
I watched him disappear into the crowd and smiled, shaking my head
slightly as I finished my wine. I wasn’t
really in the mood for this tonight and I was beginning to think it had been a
mistake to even come. I had just flagged
a waiter down to close out my tab when I sensed someone standing next to me.
“Excuse me, sir,” a quiet voice said, “may I join you?”
Turning around, I studied the man standing there. In my dream, he was even more angelic looking
than he probably was in real life, but not by much. The young man was dressed in tight jeans and
a thin white button up shirt that was almost see through. His blond hair was pulled back into a small
pony tail at the base of his neck and a small diamond earring gleamed from his
left ear. He was small and looked almost
elfin with his big blue eyes, delicate features and high cheek bones, the picture
perfect sub from a book come to life and now standing at my table. To say it was an ego boost would have been
only a fraction of the truth. The bar
did not follow strict scene rules and subs were welcome to approach anyone they
were interested in and so I nodded toward the chair. “Please,” I said firmly. “I was just closing out my tab, but you’re
welcome to keep me company.”
He smiled as he sat down. “I’m sorry that you’re leaving.” Dropping his eyes demurely, he added, “I had
been hoping to come speak to you for the last thirty minutes, but didn’t want
to interrupt while you were busy with someone else.”
“My name is Eric Coben.” I said, holding out
my hand.
“Terry Phillips,” the other man said with a gentle handshake and smile.
“You should have come over if you were interested,” I said. “I admire initiative and frankness.”
Terry nodded. “Yes sir, I’ll remember that next time.” He glanced down at the table for a moment and
then looked up. “If you don’t mind then, sir, let me try to make up for that
failure and be frank with you now.”
Biting back a smile at his performance, I nodded seriously. “Please.”
“I would be very honored if you would consider a relationship with
me. You have a good reputation and, I
believe, similar goals to me and are looking for the same kind of relationship.” His voice was firm and the submissive pose he
had when he sat down was replaced with a strength that appealed to me.
“And what sort relationship would that be?” I asked.
I woke up as I said those words in my dream and found myself sick to my
stomach and sweating. The clock read
6:30 and I knew that further sleep was impossible and I might as well get a
jump on the day. Getting into my running
clothes quickly, I gulped down a glass of OJ before walking quickly to the park
to warm up for my normal two mile jog along the pathways. It was a warm morning already and I struggled
to keep Terry from my mind and tried to focus instead on my jogging. By the time I had completed my circuit and
was walking back toward my house, the sick feeling of the dream had all but
left me. But that feeling and my strong
reaction also left me convinced that I wasn’t ready for a relationship
yet. That was doubly true for one that
involved any sort of drama or high maintenance guys.
****************
“So John told me that you two had drinks last night,” Mike said after
the waiter took our orders and left our table.
I rolled my eyes. “God, is he reporting his every move to you? It was
just drinks, Mike, that’s all.”
He sipped at his coke and didn’t say anything, just looked at me.
“What?” I asked
“I didn’t say anything,” he countered with a smile. “Not one word.”
Glaring, I shook my head. “But you’re thinking things.”
“Of course, I’m thinking about the war, I’m thinking about the election
next year, I’m thinking about traffic, lots and lots of things going on in my
head.”
“Any about me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“A few.”
Flicking a straw wrapper at him, I frowned, “Want to share any of
them?”
Mike shrugged. “I’ve known you for how long now? Five? Six years?” As I nodded in agreement, he continued, “I
don’t pretend to understand all about the relationship you had with Terry and
that’s OK. I don’t need to know or
really understand what went wrong. But
what I do know is that you were happier for those two years, or at least the
first year and a half, while you were together than I’d seen you before. You seemed very happy, very satisfied and
content. Whatever you guys had at the beginning
made you happy. You were happier with
him than you were with Richard and that’s saying a lot.”
I nodded and muttered, “What I had with Terry was totally different
than with Richard.” Struggling to find
the words, I said, “Richard and I were equals, too similar to really work out
long term. Terry was the Ying to my Yang
- we complemented each other and gave what the other wanted or needed, at least
at first. They were totally different
relationships.”
“I just want you to be that happy and satisfied and content again. And hey, maybe it’s not with John and that’s
fine. I don’t have any sort of financial investment in the guy,” Mike
laughed. “But to me at least, he seems
like he’s much better suited to you than Terry ever was. That guy always struck me as cold and
calculating and a player. I never really
understood what the attraction was for you, but obviously you saw something in
him that I didn’t. If nothing else, John
seems fun; he’s certainly cute and there’s nothing wrong with just dating,
casual sex. God knows I’m not trying to
push you into moving in together.”
“I like John,” I admitted softly, “It’s not that at all.”
“You’re just not ready,” he said with a smile, finishing my
statement. “How do you know? What has to happen for you to be ready for a
relationship?”
I had to admit it was a fair question and one I hadn’t thought
about. “I don’t know honestly. I haven’t thought about it like that.”
Taking a sip of his drink, he studied me for a minute. “You know when Karl and I got together, I was
scared to death to actually move in together.
Sleeping together was OK, staying over at his place for the night was
fine, even staying over the whole weekend was OK. But by Sunday afternoon, I started getting
twitchy and I’d have to get out of there.
It took months before I’d even stay and have dinner with him Sunday
night. That’s why I always wanted to go
to his place so that I’d be in control.
I could leave whenever I wanted.
If he was at my place, he controlled the pace and he wouldn’t leave
until he was ready.” He studied me for a
moment before continuing. “Do you know what finally got me moving in with him?”
“Threats?” I offered with a smile.
Mike glared for a moment and shook his head. “No. Not threats.
I was having fun, I liked him, he liked me and I didn’t think I wanted
to screw that up or be alone any more.
So I made myself totally throw myself into the relationship for 30
days. I pushed aside all my fears about
it, tried to put the lid on the worries …”
“Good god,” I said in mock horror, “I didn’t realize anyone had that
much self discipline! I can’t even
imagine how much energy that took to put a lid on something that big!”
“Shut up and listen – I’m being serious here,” he said with a slight
edge to his voice that told me he was being serious. “I made myself jump in
with both feet. If Karl wanted to stay
at my place, I said OK with a smile. It
was a forced smile at the start, but I still smiled. If he suggested we watch all of the Godfather
movies on Sunday, I was in and making popcorn.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “It
made Karl happy and really, after the first week or so, I was too. It’s like I figured out all my worries
weren’t going to come true and were mostly just in my head. It was more taking that first step.”
“Watch the first step, it’s a doozy?” I asked
with a smile.
He laughed, “Something like that.”
“Food’s here,” I said, changing the subject as the waitress approached
with a tray. “I appreciate the advice though and I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m saying,” he said simply.
We talked about work after that, how the Braves were doing, plans for
the summer and stayed clear of any serious subjects, but Mike’s words stayed
with me and replayed in my mind. I knew
what he was saying, knew he was right to a large degree, but I wasn’t sure if I
was ready to take that first step.
Running the next day, it hit me so hard that I actually stopped and
laughed out loud. Here I was stressing
and worrying about if I wanted a relationship with John and what that
relationship might be, when I didn’t have a clue if John was interested in
having a relationship with me. He
certainly seemed eager to meet, but for all I knew, he might just be looking
for Friends with Benefits or a summer fling or nothing more than casual sex. He was young, good looking and hadn't had
that much experience. The idea of a
casual sexual relationship might be exactly what he was looking for, a chance
to have fun figuring out gay sex. As I
began jogging again, I shook my head over the situation. I was acting like some 18 year old girl, who
after two dates was instantly planning a wedding and what they’d name their two
kids. Feeling much better about the
situation than I had in days, I finished my circuit at a new personal best.
Despite the breakthrough that morning, by lunch time I had hit a mental
block and none of my ideas for a story arc were turning out to be worth
anything. Ripping off a fourth sheet of
paper and throwing it away, my eyes fell on the drawing I did of John and I
smiled, feeling a little bubble of excitement rise up in me. Now that I had finally clued into the
realities of the relationship, I felt much better and was actually looking
forward to calling him in the next couple of days and seeing if he’d like to
get together again. Since my work was
going nowhere, I decided that a change of scenery couldn’t hurt and going out
to lunch wouldn’t be any more waste of time than staring at a blank piece of
paper. Grabbing a book, I drove to a
local pizza place on Peachtree. It was a
small, eclectic place with a funky patio and good, cheap pizza. Their ongoing lunch special of two
personalized slices and a drink for $5.99 was a favorite lunch of mine. Snagging one of the few remaining parking
areas around back, I walked up to the restaurant. Just as I approached the patio, a familiar
profile caught my eye. Smiling and
considering it fate or the gods rewarding me for calming down, I walked
over. I picked up the laminated
postcard used as order identifiers and shook my head. “You know, I never would have pegged you for
a bunny and kitten sort of guy.”
John jerked his head up, startled out of his reading. A second later recognition dawned on him and
he graced me with one of his wonderful smiles.
Laughing, he snatched the postcard away. “I tried to get them to give me
the Superman one, but they wouldn’t have it – must go in order or something.”
I laughed too. “If that’s the story you’re going with ….” I paused and glanced at the other empty seat
at his two-person table and, taking a deep breath, took the first step. “Are you meeting anyone? If not, I’d love to join you.” Then, hastily added, “Assuming you want
company, of course.”
“No,” he said with a smile and then shook his head realizing that came
out wrong, “I mean, No, I’m not meeting
anyone and I’d love if you’d join me. I
just put my order in like three minutes ago so you won’t be far behind.”
Smiling, I tossed my book on the table and said, “Wonderful. I’ll be right back.” Placing my order and carrying my drink back
to his table a few minutes later, I chuckled, tilting my own postcard so he
could see. “I think you got the better one actually.” My card was of an enormous lady holding a
tiny hairless dog on her lap.
“I think you’re right,” John agreed with a grin. “At least mine doesn’t look like something
you’d put on your fridge to remind you that you don’t need that second bowl of
ice cream after dinner.”
Noticing for the first time his jeans and t-shirt, I said, “Does
NationsBank have casual Fridays?”
He nodded. “We do even though
not this casual. On Fridays in the summer
we can forgo the jackets and ties.”
“How nice of them not to make you wear that in 90 degree heat and 95%
humidity,” I said dryly.
Laughing in agreement, he nodded. “I actually am just off today
though. I had a doctor’s appointment
this morning and an eye appointment this afternoon. I haven’t been in a couple of years and I’m
noticing I’m getting headaches by the end of the day, especially if I’ve been
on the computer a lot.”
I would have liked to ask if he was OK, but also knew that we were nowhere
close to me having the right to inquire about his health in anything but the
broadest sense. Instead, I simply said,
“It’s smart when you can get a lot done on one day off.”
“I bet you don’t have to deal with that since you work for yourself,”
he said. “I’m not sure if I could
actually do it, but I’d love to try.”
“It’s hard sometimes to keep yourself motivated,” I admitted. “Luckily, between my agent, mortgage company
and credit card company, there’s enough outside motivation when I’m not feeling
it myself.”
Our pizzas arrived only moments apart and we fell into another easy
conversation like the other times we were together. He had noticed my book and we found that we
shared an attraction to historical and modern mysteries as well as most spy and
intrigue books. Our tastes in music were
similar even though he made a face when I said three of my six car radio
buttons were set to local country stations.
The hour went by swiftly as we enjoyed the conversation, food and warm
sun heating the patio in the spots not shaded by large green umbrellas. I caught him glancing at his watch and
smiled, “What time is your appointment?”
He made a face. “In about thirty minutes; I guess I should get
going.” Smiling, he added, “I wish I
could cancel. This was great – I’m glad
we both were in the mood for pizza and ran into each other. It must be fate or something.”
Standing up with him, I asked, “Where’s your car?”
“It’s down the hill in their parking lot. I can never parallel park, especially on
Peachtree.” He shuddered with a laugh.
“The idea alone makes me cringe.”
We walked down the hill toward the parking lot in a comfortable
silence. As we neared his car, a new
silver Camry, I said, “I had a great lunch.
Thank you.”
Unlocking his door, he turned and smiled. “Me too.”
Once again I was struck by how young he was. Even though he was a couple of inches taller,
he also seemed more vulnerable and less sure of himself than I would have
thought from an athlete. Glancing around
the deserted parking lot, I reached up and kissed him quickly, saying, “I’d
like to take you out soon. You’ve asked
me and I’d like to return the favor.”
Blushing, from the kiss I was sure, he nodded dumbly.
“Is that a yes?” I asked with a grin.
“Yes,” he said with a wide smile.
“I’d like that too. My schedule
is wide open and I’m easy.” Then,
blushing deeper, he laughed, “I don’t think I’m suppose to admit that …”
I laughed, “That you’re easy or not busy?”
His blush got somehow deeper and he stammered, “Both … neither, I
think. I think there’s some rule about
not being too available or something like that.
You’re not supposed to be free whenever and certainly not supposed to
say you’re easy!”
Unable to help myself, I laughed, reaching out and stroking his hot
face. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not into games and, so that we’re on
equal footing here, I’ll admit that my schedule isn’t jam packed either.”
He grinned and the blush seemed to lessen a bit.
“How about tomorrow night?” I asked.
“It’s Saturday, we can go some place casual and maybe go to a
movie. No stress and nice and
traditional.”
“That sounds perfect to me,” John admitted. “I’m pretty casual and not into funky
restaurants or weird food.”
“Why don’t I pick you up at six then?
That should give us plenty of time for dinner before the movie.” He nodded and then, smiling again, slipped
into his car. I couldn’t help myself
and, loving the way he blushed, leaned in through his open window and kissed
him again. “See you tomorrow.”
Standing in my boxers in front of the closet the next afternoon, I
studied my clothes. Since I hadn’t
worked in an office in five years, my clothes tended to be fairly casual. I had a few suits, but those were typically
reserved for weddings, funerals and important meetings and were in dark colors
appropriate for those sort of events. I
had over ten pairs of jeans to wear with one of my countless t-shirts, but only
a few casual pairs of slacks. Finally
selecting a black pair of Dockers to go with a cream polo, I vowed to head to
the mall next week to update my wardrobe.
If I was being honest with myself, I would admit that I was a bit
nervous. This was going to be my first
real date Date in over three years. After two years with Terry and almost a year
with Richard, my nerves were out of practice.
I had spent an hour earlier in the day cleaning my car, both inside and
out. I wasn’t messy, but straw wrappers,
receipts, library books, CDs and just random bits of clutter and crud
accumulated in the back seat and in corners like most everyone else. John had emailed me directions to his
apartment Friday night in case I didn’t know how to get there from my place and
I found myself pulling into the complex a few minutes before six. Pulling up outside his building, I saw him standing
out on his deck, obviously watching for me.
I had intended to do the whole date thing and pick him up, but he waved
and I saw him duck back inside. A moment
later, he was out the door and heading down the exposed stairs.
“Hi!” he called out happily as he approached the car.
I debated for a half of second and then got out. “Hi. You look very nice.” Leaning in for a quick kiss, I matched his
smile.
“Any problem finding the place?”
“No, not at all. Your directions
were perfect and when I got closer, I recognized it from the other night.” I smiled and walked him around to the
passenger side door, opening it for him.
How he took that was, for me, a small test. I know I told him that I didn’t play games
and that was mostly true, but in reality we all do. I had been with guys who took offense at
anything remotely similar to what you’d do if you were dating a woman. So, that meant no picking up at doors, no
opening doors, splitting the tab 50/50 and the list was endless and the
minefields plentiful. John didn’t strike
me that way, but I would have rather have found out now than later. I was brought up to behave a certain way
toward a date and the other person’s gender didn’t change any of those rules in
my mind.
He smiled as he slid into the passenger seat. “Thanks.”
Going round to the other side, I put a small chalk mark on the positive
side before quickly reminding myself that this was casual, short term and just
for fun. There should be no positive or
negative weighing sides.
Dinner continued the pattern of all our meals with easy, fun
conversation. It amazed me how the conversation seemed to seamlessly shift from
current events to movies to books to colleges.
He had been an English major, not the business or accounting major I had
assumed.
“My father was less than thrilled,” he said in one of the few mentions
of family. “I thought he was going to
refuse to pay for college after I told him what I wanted to major in, but I
think my mother convinced him otherwise.”
He paused for a second, sipping at his beer, “Both of my brothers picked
a major off the Father Approved List.”
His laugh did not carry to his eyes and I could hear the edge of
bitterness there as I changed the subject.
My own parents had died at 17, a couple of years before I had officially
come to terms with being gay and out.
Even though I didn’t know for sure how they would have reacted, my
feeling was they would have been fine with the announcement. Working in the art field, even though it was
on the restoration instead of the creation side, they were exposed to
successful gay men and women and didn’t view them as deviants or think the
lifestyle brought nothing but problems and an early death. The lack of any religious background also
helped, I was sure. Dipping a chip into
one of the bowls of salsa, I asked, “So which movie were you interested
in?” I had taken the movie section with
me and he had studied it in the car. Two
of the top contenders started at 8:15 and the third at 8:30.
Pulling into his apartment complex that night, I parked in the same
empty spot as earlier.
“Would you like to come up?” he asked.
I could hear the twinge of nervousness in his voice and again wondered
how much experience he had had. I hadn’t
been on a date in over three years, but had certainly had my fair share before
then. “I’d like that.”
Unlocking the door, he lead me into the apartment a minute later. There was a slight scent of 409 mixed with
lemon dusting oil that told me that he was expecting or at least hoping that
I’d come in. No matter how clean you
are, most people don’t dust just for the hell of it on a Saturday afternoon.
“Can I get you something to drink?” John asked, going into the small
kitchen.
I nodded, “Whatever you have is fine with me.”
Flashing me a smile, he said, “I went grocery shopping, so I have
pretty much everything.” Standing aside
from the now open fridge, he showed me inside.
He wasn’t kidding. The small
appliance was fully stocked with a bottle of wine, beer, cokes, juice and
bottled water. I laughed, “I can see
that.” As much as I thought some alcohol
might smooth the way for anything to come, I really didn’t want to deal with
possible consequences of him or I overdoing it and going too far. Regrets were not something you wanted to wake
up with the next morning. “I think I’ll
just take some water if you don’t mind.”
I knew I had made the right call when I saw what I would swear was
relief flash across his face for a second before it was followed by another
smile as he grabbed two bottles.
Passing me a bottle across the small eat-at counter separating the
kitchen from the living room, he leaned nervously on it. “I thought the movie was good. Did you like
it?”
“I did, I think you made a great choice.”
He blushed, glancing down at his hands before taking a big gulp of
water. “You had it circled as one of
your top choices too. I really didn’t do
anything but agree with you.”
His nervousness was palpable and, as much as teasing him a bit might
have been fun to watch him blush and squirm, I decided that’s not what a good
older lover should do. I had decided
that my job in this brief, fun only relationship was to show him the ropes
–figurative sense only - have some fun
and make sure he did too. Taking another
small sip of water, I came around the counter and into the kitchen. “Come here,” I said softly, summoning him
with my finger as he started to back away.
As he stepped forward, I reached out and pulled him to me, kissing him
gently on the lips as my hand circled his waist. “I was paying you a compliment,” I whispered,
laying soft kisses on his lips. “You
can accept it without having to make me think it was my idea.”
John laughed and ducked his head, trying to hide his blush. “OK.”
Hesitantly kissing me back, he said softly, “I was hoping you’d come up
tonight.”
After the first couple, his kisses grew more confident and inwardly I
smiled. Kissing was great as long as it
was between two people. If he hadn’t
started to respond, I would have been worried and discouraged.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, following his lead as I kissed
him around the mouth. His hands were
nervously playing around my chest as if he wasn’t sure what to do with
them. If his mouth hadn’t been so
responsive, tongue hesitantly starting to vie for space with my own and if I
couldn’t feel his cock hard against his slacks pressed against my thigh, I
would have been unsure of the situation or what he really had in mind. He might be unsure, but his body knew exactly
what it wanted.
Leaning his head back slightly, he shivered as I traced his jaw line up
toward his ear with my lips. “More than
what we did the last time,” he whispered.
“I want to go further with you.”
I pulled back slightly and glanced at him. The blush was back even as his eyes shone
brightly with excitement. “Do you have
any protection?" I had a new box of
condoms in my house, but they weren’t going to do any good now. Mentally cursing myself for not throwing them
in the car, I began to reconcile myself to a midnight run to the drugstore.
John nodded. “I got a box this afternoon.” He laughed, blushing a bit more and ducking
his head. “Maybe that’s another thing I
shouldn’t admit?”
Laughing, I said, “What? That
you bought some? I think it’s great – I
love that you wanted to do this and were prepared.” Before we got any further though in this
discussion, I wanted to make sure we were both on the same page. I hadn’t bottomed for anyone but Richard in
years and wasn’t planning on starting tonight.
If we were going to have sex, I was on top. There are few things that were non-negotiable
for me when it came to sex, but this was one of them. Pulling him back to me, I allowed my hands to
roam between us and captured one of his hands still playing on my chest. Bringing it down between us, I laid it on my
own hardening cock. “Is this what you
want?” I whispered, my mouth inches from
his ear.
He nodded, shaking slightly under my hands.
“Where do you want it?” I asked, in an equally low voice, laying a soft
kiss on his jaw line. I wasn’t trying to
be mean or embarrass him, but I also didn’t want any misunderstandings. There’s nothing worse than being hard and
ready and finding out that you both aren’t just on different pages, but you’re
reading totally different books.
“In me,” he whispered softly as he brought his free hand up and around
my waist, holding me close. The tension
was clear in his voice and radiating through him. “Please.”
Beneath my hands, I felt him take a deep breath as if calming himself
and then in a slightly louder but more confident voice repeat himself.
“I want to go into the bedroom and have sex with you, Eric. I want you to fuck me up the ass.”
Trying hard not to smile at the sudden crudeness coming out of his
mouth, I kissed him and said, “How about instead of fucking you, I make love to
you? Would that be OK?” I was rewarded with him relaxing in my arms
as he laughed a bit. I couldn’t help but
think the words had come out so quickly and so crudely because he had been
rehearsing them in his mind and wanted to make sure he didn’t back out.
I slid naked into his bed, the overhead light turned off with the room
being lit softly by the bedside light turned on its lowest setting. The sheets were clean and I noticed candles
on the dresser. Smiling, I glanced at
the still closed bathroom door and made up my mind. Getting up and finding a book of matches next
to the candles, I lit them, figuring that’s what he had in mind. I heard the toilet flush and the water run
just as I was finishing. Shaking the
match out, I smiled as he walked out.
John smiled and self-consciously covered himself with his hands. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said, “I saw these and figured they were out ... just in case. Seems a shame to waste them and they’ll add a
nice touch.” Watching him stand there
naked in the doorway, embarrassed and awkward, unsure what to do, I immediately
flashed back to my first time. I had
been 18 and with a guy probably twice my age.
He had put me at ease, made me feel relaxed and comfortable and it ended
up as a very good experience, for me at least.
Walking over, acting more at ease in my own nakedness than I really was,
I held out my hand. “Come here, John.” As he took it, hand falling away from his
cock, I smiled, reaching out with my other hand and gently cupping it like a
pet and running my thumb across the top. “You’re wonderful looking, there’s
nothing to be embarrassed about.” I kissed him again, hands now going around
him and resting on his bare butt. “I
can’t wait to have my way with you.” Laughing, I nuzzled his neck, my hand again
stroking his cock gently. “Come on, it won’t get hard just on its own.”
He laughed and allowed himself to be guided into the room and onto the
bed. “I’ve done this before,” he said
quietly, his voice a bit higher than normal.
Laying down, he immediately rolled over on his stomach, giving me room
to lay down next to him. His back was
stiff and his eyes a bit fearful and I knew that he’d allow me to fuck him
right then. But I also knew he was
scared and anxious and entering him would be painful for him, no matter how
much lube I used.
“I know,” I said as I lay down and rolled over on my side so I could
face him. Reaching out, I pulled him
closer, my hand going between us, legs twining together as I began to kiss
him. “But there’s no rush here, we’ve
got all night.”
Fifteen minutes later, he was now relaxed under my hands, as I reached
for the condom and lube. “No,” I said,
putting a hand on his hip as he began to roll back over on his stomach, “Let’s
do it face to face. Have you ever done
it that way?”
He shook his head silently and swallowed, eyes still on me.
Leaning down, I kissed him deeply, tongue once again plunging in and
claiming his mouth. “It’ll be good, I
promise. We can kiss and touch the whole
time. You’ll love it.”
“OK,” John said softly, eyes widening a bit as I ripped open the condom
and rolled it on. “I’m not a virgin or
anything,” he said, “you don’t have to be gentle with me or anything. I can take it.”
Inwardly I laughed and I struggled to keep a straight face. He might be fooling himself, but I wasn’t
buying the act for one second. I could
tell he was excited, his cock had risen to half-staff within moments of us
kissing and stroking, and he wanted to be fucked, but I also had knocked down
his experience from a max of ten down to a max of five. “Don’t worry,” I said, spreading lube on my
cock and also on my index finger of my right hand, “I know you can take it. You proved how great you were last week, you
don’t have anything to prove with me tonight.
This is just fun and we’re both going to enjoy it.” Tapping his knee a bit with my left
hand, I ordered gently, “Spread these a
bit for me.” Settling down mostly on top
of him, I dipped my hand between us and gently inserted a finger inside of him,
lightly lubing his hole.
Moaning a bit at the intrusion, John spread his legs slightly wider to
allow me better access.
Giving my hand a quick wipe on the towel on the edge of the bed, I
moved until I was directly on top. “That’s it, babe,” I whispered, nudging at
him a bit with my cock, “Spread them for me, let me see how much you want me
inside.” Pushing inside, I felt my
breath catch at the wonderful tight sensation that gripped me. It had been too long since I’d been inside
another guy and my cock immediately responded by hardening even more. “You’re doing great, John. God,” I said, “you’re so hot taking me inside
of you like this. Does it feel
good?” Looking down at him, I could see
a thin bead of sweat across his upper lip and forehead and his eyes were
clenched tight.
Nodding his head, he moaned again as I continued to slowly ease inside
of him. “Yeah,” he gasped out, hands spasming, reaching out to grasp onto my hips to hold me.
My nerves were shaking as I fought the urge to slam all the way into
him, the need for my entire cock to once again feel that wonderful sensation
almost overwhelming. Instead, I bent
down and began to kiss him, my tongue acting out what my cock couldn’t. As I felt him relax and begin to squirm
beneath me, I gave one more solid push and fully seated myself inside.
John threw his head back and cried out, exposing his neck to my mouth
and giving a low guttural moan. “God!”
he screamed a second later as I pulled out slightly before pushing all the way
back in, his legs coming up around my waist, opening himself up more and giving
me greater access to him.
The way his hands were gripping my hips, urging me onward, I knew the
cries and moans now coming forth in a steady wave were of mostly pleasure. Occasionally, with hard thrusts as I came
almost all the way out before pushing back in, they changed octaves and I knew
it was more pain he was feeling. Trying
to control my thrusts, concentrating on keeping them steady and smooth, mixed
with kissing and petting, I whispered softly in a continuing mantra, “God,
you’re beautiful. You’re amazing, John.
That’s perfect; you look wonderful taking all of me like this.” I had given up
on trying to sound original or smart and instead just wanted to encourage him
and let him know how great he was and how into it I was. Hearing that from my
first few lovers had always given me confidence. Several moments later, I felt my balls
tighten as I gave one final push deep inside and shot hard into the condom. Giving a satisfied moan, I kissed him deeply
as my cock convulsed and spasmed inside of him.
My tongue lazily explored his mouth as I felt myself soften slowly
inside him, but I was unwilling to break the connection just yet. He was covered in sweat and his legs were
still wrapped tightly around my waist, keeping me turned on and flying high
knowing I had brought him so much pleasure.
It had really been an amazing experience and one I missed much more than
I had thought.
He was panting a bit, hungrily kissing me, with his hands running over
my bare back and butt and giving out small sounds of pleasure and
excitement. “God,” he said a moment
later as I slowly pulled out of him and carefully took off the used condom,
tying it off and tossing it into the waste can by the bed. As he brought down his legs, I noticed they
were shaking still.
“You didn’t come,” I said hoarsely, belatedly realizing that his hands
had been on me, urging me on instead of seeing to his own needs. His own cock was still half hard and I could
see that his pubic hair was damp with perspiration and probably pre-cum.
“That’s OK,” John said with a smile.
“I didn’t even notice. That was
too good, I was too lost in it to even pay attention.”
Fighting nature and my body’s scream for sleep, I smiled, “But I’ve
noticed and we can’t have that.” Moving
down a bit, I bent low and took his cock in my mouth. Giving oral sex wasn’t exactly my favorite
thing in the world, but I had had plenty of practice pleasuring Richard during
my time with him and could give an excellent blow job. It didn’t take long and within a few moments,
I heard him gasp and arch, shooting deeply into my mouth with no warning. Biting back a sharp word that a warning next
time would be appreciated, I did the only thing I could do and swallowed. Lifting my head, I smiled at him.
“Oh my god,” he began, “I am so sorry.
I tried to say something, but it just happened and …”
Immediately feeling guilty over being annoyed with him, I leaned down
and silenced his protests with my lips.
“Hush, babe,” I ordered. “It’s
OK. I didn’t mind at all.” It took me a second of looking deep into his
closing eyes to realize that it was true.
Two seconds later, I had another crashing realization, that this was not
going to be some quickie relationship - I was hooked already.
He smiled at me, eyes beginning to get heavy and nodded. “Thanks, Eric. This was perfect.”
Sitting up and pulling the covers out of the tangled mess they had
become at the foot of the bed, I smiled down at him and nodded, “I think so
too.” Giving the burning candles one
last glance, I figured they were fine to burn for a bit, safe in their glass
jars. If they burned out completely then
at least they had been sacrificed for some wonderful sex. Settling back down, pulling the covers over
us, I rolled onto my side, facing him and quickly fell asleep.
Opening my eyes hours several hours later, I smiled. “Hi.”
John grinned back at me. “Hi,”
he whispered, matching my own volume.
“You looked like you were having a very nice dream.” He was laying on his side, facing me and only
a foot away.
I grinned. “I thought I was, but you’re still here so it must have been
true and not just a figment of my imagination.”
Reaching across the open space between us, I laid a hand gently on his
hip. “Are you OK? I didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”
“I’m perfect,” he said, with a smile.
“Well, I know that’s true, but are you OK?”
Giving a small laugh, he nodded. “Everything feels great. You were a perfect gentleman.” Moving closer, closing the distance, he
kissed me. “Everything was great.”
I could feel his cock hardening against my stomach and my own decided
that it couldn’t be left behind if there was going to be further action. “It was,” I agreed, kissing him back, hands
and tongues once again exploring the still new terrain.
Breathlessly breaking away from me ten minutes later, John smiled. “Are
you up to a repeat performance?”
I gave a deep laugh, rolling on top of him and gently grinding my hard
cock into his stomach. “What do you think?”
I couldn’t tell in the dark, but given his laugh I was sure he was
blushing. But despite that, I was
thrilled he had taken the lead a bit and regained some of his earlier sexual
confidence. “Anything special in mind?”
In the darkness, I could see him duck his head for a second before
glancing back up at me. “I don’t know really.”
Not wanting to break his flagging confidence I smiled, kissing him
deeply as I whispered, “You had an earlier idea that might be fun right
now. How about rolling over on your
stomach and let me take you that way?”
Laying kisses along his mouth and dropping down to his neck, I felt him
squirming under me. “I bet you’d look
amazing like that. Do you like it that
way?”
“Yeah,” he said in a low voice, head rolling to the side so I could
reach an obviously sensitive and loved area.
“I’d love to feel you that way. I want to make sure I can feel you
tomorrow after you go. I want to think
of you every time I sit down and remember what you were doing.”
Giving him one last kiss, I pushed my way off him and sat up. The condom box and lube were sitting on the
night stand and within easy reach. The
mattress moved slightly under me as I quickly rolled the condom on my
cock. It wasn’t fully hard yet, but
close enough. That changed quickly as I
turned back around and saw John.
He smiled at me over his shoulder and gave his butt a small wiggle.
“Like the view?”
My cock came to full attention and my mouth went dry. He had rolled over onto his stomach and was
now kneeling, legs spread apart and slightly under him, on the bed. Two pillows under his chest to help support
his weight off his forearms and allowed him to rock back and forth
effortlessly. The view of him offering
himself up to me and the submissiveness of the position reawakened areas that I
thought Terry had killed forever. “I
love the view,” I finally answered, getting up on my own knees between his
legs. Leaning down over his back in an
almost caress, I slid a well lubed finger inside him, moving it in and out –
teasingly arousing him with it – as I began to make my way down his back,
kissing and nibbling the skin. I could
feel his muscles quivering under my mouth and the small mewing noises he was
making told me how much he loved it. “Be
still,” I ordered softly, stilling my finger inside him as he began to rock
under me. “I want you to be still and
think about what I’m doing to you and how it’s making you feel.” I laughed quietly as he moaned out my name as
if I was torturing him even as he stopped his rocking. “Good boy,” I said, resuming my kisses.
“God, Eric,” he breathed out as I withdrew my finger and settled myself
more solidly between his legs. He arched
his back, opening himself up further to me as I nudged his opening with my
cock.
“Are you sure you want this, John?” I asked teasingly. He was so cute in this strange mixture of
saint and sinner, I couldn’t help but want to play with it. How he could have been embarrassed to be seen
naked by me three hours ago and could now be spread apart on the bed, panting
and all but begging me to fuck him, was
a mystery I was going to have to figure out later.
“What do you think, Eric?” he said with a laugh, rocking backwards so
that he bumped into my cock and me. “If
you hold still, I might be able to just impale myself on you,” he said. “Not as much fun as if you did it, but right
now I don’t care.”
I laughed, realigning my cock with him and slowly pushing it
inside. After a second’s hesitation, the
head popped in, causing John to moan again and arch back, driving more of my
cock inside him. Gripping his hips to
hold us both steady, I gently pushed all the way in, pausing every few seconds
to give his muscles time to adjust.
Judging by his breathing and the cold sweat that once again coated his
back, the moans weren’t all from pleasure.
Once I was fully inside, I forced myself to hold steady, gently stroking
his back and whispering encouraging words.
“I wish you could see how amazing you look, taking me all inside you
like this. It was wonderful, watching my
cock disappear inside you as you took it all.
So proud and it feels so good, hot and tight all around me.” Internally, I shook my head at how stupid I
sounded. I really should do some
research on this sort of talk and come up with something better. A moment later though, I decided that John
probably wasn’t really paying attention anyway as I felt him begin to rock
slightly under me. Taking that as my
cue, I pulled out slightly, causing him to once again moan.
“Yes,” he breathed out. “God, Eric.”
Releasing the pillow with one hand from the death grip he had, he
brought it down between his own legs and began stroking himself in time with my
thrusts. Letting out another deep
groaning yes, he spread his legs wider, bowing his head and opening himself up
further.
The utter submissiveness and his encouragement drove me faster,
alternating fully encasing myself in him and pulling almost completely out
before teasing his opening where most of the nerve endings lived. “That’s right,” I whispered as I again went
completely inside and leaned over him so I could kiss the back of his neck and
whisper in his ear, “I know you want all of me inside, don’t you?”
Panting slightly, he nodded before getting out a small, half strangled,
“Yes.”
I felt his deep internal muscles tighten around my cock, holding me
deep inside a second before I felt him shudder as he came. It was like air being slowly let out of a
tightly blown balloon as the tension drained from him and he relaxed slightly
back onto his folded arms. I laughed and
kissed him again, speeding up my own thrusts. “I see that you like this.”
He nodded. “You’re the best.”
Driving deeply inside him one last time, I felt my own balls contract
and then shoot inside the condom.
Kissing and stroking as I came, I reluctantly pulled out a moment
later. With a pang, I realized how much
I had wanted to come inside of him, putting myself fully inside of him as if to
mark him as mine and then falling asleep still encased inside so that every
time he moved, a part of him would feel me and know that I was still
there. Musing over it as I tied the
condom and tossed it into the waste can, I realized that it was yet another
dominant feeling that John had reawakened in me and I honestly wasn’t sure how
I felt about it.
“You were wonderful, Eric,” he said sleepily, stretching out on his
stomach, legs now flat against the bed.
Giving a lazy stretch, he grinned as I laid down next to him, on my side
so I could look at him easily. “That was
really, really good. It was perfect.”
I kissed him gently before settling back down, head on my own pillow.
“It was. It was a wonderful idea.” I saw his eyes close for a long moment before
he opened them back up, gracing me with one last smile before closing them
again and falling asleep. Usually, I
would have been doing the same, but now my mind was racing with emotions and
memories and needs I hadn’t felt in several years. John had easily slipped past my defenses and
gotten into my head, rapidly approaching my heart. He was smart, he was cute and funny, we had a
good time together. Really, what more
was I asking for? But I had also gone
into this with a clear plan of sucking, fucking and moving on. We wouldn’t be moving in together, we wouldn’t
be picking out His & His towels and there certainly wouldn’t be any form of
domination or discipline. Yet, tonight,
I was sure I was picking up small hints that he would like for there to be at
least some form of domination and those feelings inside of me were certainly
making their presence known. Pushing
them aside, I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to sleep.
It must have worked because the next time I opened my eyes, the room
was bright, the bed was empty and I could hear sounds from the other side of
the closed bedroom door. Getting out of
bed, I smiled, remembering the paper thin walls of these sorts of mass
apartments, and wondered if we had scandalized any neighbors last night. Between the moans, cries and unmistakable
sound of slapping balls against skin, I was sure there was a solid chance. A
robe had been put on the edge of the bed, presumably for me and I slipped it
on.
“Good morning,” John said as I stepped into the small hall outside the
bedroom. He was standing in the kitchen,
reading the paper on the counter, dressed in plaid pj
bottoms and a t-shirt. “I’m glad the
robe fit; I thought you might like it instead of having to put your clothes
back on from last night.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile. These sorts of mornings were always a
bit awkward, from what I remembered, each person unsure of when the other
person would or should leave, unwilling to raise the question, unsure of the
other person’s reactions to the night’s activities and what sort of
expectations there were or were wanted for the future. At least, I was a step ahead in that field
and pretty clear on how John’s reaction to last night's and this morning’s
activity was. “How long have you been
up?” I asked, moving into the kitchen and giving him a small kiss on the cheek,
snuggling up behind him. He was leaning
on the counter as he read and the action seemed natural to me, as if I had done
it a hundred times before and would do it another thousand times in the future.
He laughed, wiggling his butt a bit against me, saying, “I got out of
bed about thirty minutes ago and I’ve been up about ten seconds after you
walked out of the bedroom.” Laughing, he
straightened up and turned around so he was facing me. “But I need to eat
first. I’m starving.”
I laughed too, leaning up a bit to kiss him, suddenly remembering that
he was taller than me. Last night in bed
and before, he had seemed young, small and vulnerable. Now, standing in front of me, I was struck by
his muscles and height. He was only a
couple of inches taller than me, but with a solid athletic build that made my
leaner build look small. “God you’re
cute,” I said, pulling his head down slightly and kissing him deeply. Breaking apart a second later, I grinned at
his grin and spreading blush. “Too amazing for words.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I was just OK. You were amazing; you were the one who was
doing everything. I was just
there.” Not giving me time to respond or
counter his assessment, he straightened up and gave me another embarrassed
smile. “I was thinking about making an
omelet for breakfast,” he offered, waving his hand slightly in the air. “If you
want. I’m not anything great, but I know
my way around the kitchen. If you don’t
mind, I mean.”
Expecting to be told that he was meeting some people in 30 minutes, or
that he had a ton of things to do and that I needed to get dressed, not the
simple statement that he cooked, it took my brain a few moments to register
it. “You want to cook? That’s great!” I said, then asked, “Why would
I mind?”
He shrugged, glancing down. “I don’t know. Cooking isn’t always
considered the manliest of jobs.”
I studied him for a second, wondering who had made him so unsure of
himself and his talents, before saying, “Well, not to be rude or anything, but
that’s just stupid. Historically, all
your great public chefs were men. And I
certainly don’t mind - I think it’s great.
What do you need help with? Want me to crack some eggs?”
John gave me another one of his smiles and shook his head. “Nope, I’ll take
care of it. If you want, you can just
sit here and keep me company.”
“Easy enough,” I said, giving him another kiss on the cheek before
moving around to the stools in front of the counter.
In the end, I did more than just sit there. I had the oh-so-important tasks of dicing the
green peppers and onions and shredding the cheese. Considering my skill level in the kitchen, I
was impressed that I managed to do it without the need of band-aids. The omelet was delicious, light and fluffy
with just the right amount of filling, nicely diced if I do say so myself. After breakfast, we settled on the couch with
the paper and watched the Sunday news shows.
It was a strangely comfortable way to spend a Sunday, post-coital
morning. Politics, the news and new sex
partners were usually a mix I tried to avoid, but this felt very normal. We agreed on many of the issues – either
being for or against or just not caring one way or the other. Being a social cartoonist, I considered
myself up to date on the pulse of the country, but John could easily hold his
own. The only uncomfortable moment of the morning came when I realized that
John, to my horror, considered himself, for the most part, a Republican.
“Only in national stuff, of course,” he had explained with a
laugh. “And mostly in fiscal and foreign
policy matters. Traditionally, in local
elections and in terms of social matters I lean Democratic or, actually, more
of an Independent.” He smiled brightly.
“
I stared at him and then laughed, kissing him quickly. “This is
great. I don’t think I’ve had the
pleasure of corrupting a Republican in years, maybe not since college.”
His grin widened as he said, “Oh so that’s what you’re doing here,
corrupting me? How do you know that I’m
not the one going to be doing the corrupting?”
He gave a very happy laugh and blushed as he saw the expression of disbelief
on my face and shrugged. “OK, so probably not, but I don’t think you’re going
to corrupt me either.”
Grinning, I leaned in close and put a hand on his leg, slowly running
it up to his crotch and said in a low voice inches from his ear, “So you don’t
think so? I’ve got lots and lots of
tricks in my bag that I could show you.”
John laughed again, blushing furiously as he became aroused. “I know
you do. I got to enjoy them last night
and they were wonderful.”
“Do you feel corrupted?”
He shook his head, “No.”
I frowned, moving my hand further up so I caress his cock. “Then maybe I should try again?”
Wordlessly nodding, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the
couch as I leaned into him.
Reluctantly driving away from John’s apartment four hours later, I felt
conflicted. We had had sex once more
that morning and then spent the rest of the time talking. It wasn’t my normal post-sex routine of
fleeing before sun up or at the very latest, immediately after a quick cup of
coffee and general conversation and agreement that we both had lots of work to
do before Monday morning and just couldn’t stay, despite wanting to. John and I had talked more about politics,
disagreeing on some, agreeing on others; religion since it was a Sunday morning
after all and neither one of us was pushing to be dressed and sitting in a pew
somewhere; his job, my job, favorite vacations and even briefly touched on the
issue of parents, a very sensitive subject I could tell for him. Forty eight hours ago I had our
relationship’s entire life course mapped out neatly in my head: one or two months of nice, fun fucking,
another month of slowly drifting apart as our differences and desires began to
pull us apart, one or two big fights that would end in a slammed door, harsh
words, maybe a tossed house key, too much alcohol and that would be it. We’d see each other in six months and be
cordial, maybe even friendly as we each would have moved on to someone more
appropriate: me with someone whose experience and age matched my own, him with
…. I hadn’t figured out who he’d be with, but I was sure it wasn’t with
me.
Now though, I hated to drive away and leave him. Part of me wanted to turn around, rush back
and … rescue him. Of course he didn’t
need me to rescue him at all. His
apartment complex was safe, he was a fully functioning adult who was able to
grocery shop for himself, obviously could cook, held down a great job and,
judging by all of that, I assumed paid his bills on time. There was no rescue that needed to be done
and no desire for rescue even hinted at.
That didn’t stop me from wanting to do it though. I also just wanted to be with him, in both
the biblical and sitting on the couch watching TV sense. It was just as nice to be sitting in the
kitchen chatting, reading bits of the paper out loud and watching him cook as
it was to spread him out underneath me and push deep inside over and over again
until we both came. I could feel the
possessive side of me rearing its head and making its needs known. I didn’t want to possess him in the creepy,
locked in a closet with only me to talk to way, but more in the mark him as
mine, belong to me, protect and guide and cherish way. I wanted to make sure he was never hurt, never
worried about things and to help heal the wounds in his self-esteem and
self-confidence I could sense just under the surface. I wanted to make him happy being gay and to
know all the great things that can mean.
It was something I didn’t think he felt or had ever felt.
The conflicted feelings stayed with me as I pulled into my own garage
and made my way into the house.
Richard’s voice on my machine asking about dinner sometime that week
suddenly reminded me of a conversation he and I had had as our relationship
changed. I was scared and eager at the
same time, feeling constricted with the rules and boundaries and expectations
he was still putting on me, but at the same time, worried about being out on my
own without them.
“Just go with it, do what feels natural to you,” he had instructed gently. “Don’t over think things, either your actions
or the other guy’s actions, just go with it.
If you go with your gut feeling, with what feels right to you, you’ll
end up with someone who is right for you.”
He swatted my butt adding, “You’re a good lover and a great man – trust
yourself like I trust you.”
It seems like it should be easy advice to follow, just do what feels
right, but for me, it wasn’t. I had been
fighting the feelings I had, what my gut was telling me I wanted to do and be
for years and now just going with it took a lot of work. That had been in California and the only
ripple of interest among my fellow art department students was for a new player
in the “dating” (also known then as “fucking with protection”) scene. Instead, my big angst filled Out moment was
when I figured out that I had a serious desire to be in charge and my fantasies
weren’t vanilla or even vanilla with a nice fudgy swirl, but leaned more toward
dark chocolate chip mint with chunks. It
had taken almost another five years before I dragged myself out of the
fictional online world and into a real life relationship under Richard and more
than a solid year of him patiently and sometimes painfully unteaching
me all I thought I knew. He taught me to
trust myself, my instincts, and now, that’s what I was trying to do with John
and this relationship. I had done it all
right with Terry and ended up burned, battered and bruised. Going in that deep with someone, even
thinking about having those sorts of feelings again with someone, was, if I was
brutally honest with myself, terrifying.
****************
“Just because he loves being a bottom doesn’t mean he’s a sub.”
I glared at Richard for a second and sighed, “I know that, of course,
and I’m not saying he’s a submissive.
I’m not saying anything. For all
I know he’s snow white vanilla, the cheap kind without even the dark little
flecks of vanilla bean in it. All I’m
saying is that I, I personally, me, am starting to feel like I want to be
dominant with him, I’m starting to want that kind of relationship again and
that scares me.”
Richard smiled, shaking his head slightly as he perfectly buttered a
small bit of torn bread. “First off, of
course you’re feeling dominant with him, Eric.
That’s who you are. That’s what you’re
interested in, that’s the kind of relationship that gets your juices
going. You’re out with a guy who isn’t
sending you super dominant signals, your mind is going to start filling in all
the gaps you have in your knowledge with what you’d like it to be. It’s natural, it’s what everyone does. It happens in things as mundane as imagining
him loving Italian food just because he hasn’t expressed a deep seated hatred
for spaghetti in the first three dates to him having a secret desire to be a
Brat just because he bottomed during sex.
Second off, I’d probably be reacting the same way with him. Hell,” he said with a smile and short laugh,
chewing on a second bite of bread, “I’m sure I’ve made the same mistake. He’s younger than you, less experienced than
you ….”
“Way less experienced,” I chimed in.
Richard laughed and bowed his head slightly, “Excuse me, Don Juan, I
didn’t mean to discount your dozen or so past lovers. But as I was saying, he’s got that puppy
thing going on with him. Of course you, being
who you are, are going to want to ride in on a white horse and rescue him, pet
him, pamper him and whack him with a rolled up newspaper when he makes a
mistake. But if that puppy turns out to
be a baby lion, you’ve got a problem on your hands and you’ve ruined what could
have been a fun diversion if you had just been a little more patient.”
“I think you’re mixing up your metaphors, but I get what you’re
saying. Accept my feelings as being
natural, don’t act on them, don’t worry about it and just let the relationship
happen.”
“You’re smart,” he said with a smile, “You know how to read people,
you’re good at picking up signals, there’s no doubt in my mind that if your
little puppy is in fact a Brat waiting to be rescued and taken in hand, you’ll
know about it sooner or later. Brats are
just as good about picking up signals as Tops; if he’s on the look out,
consciously or unconsciously, he’ll pick up your signals.”
I laughed, sipping at my drink. “So I should just wait until he throws
a tantrum about something, pull him over my knees, spank him and see what
happens?”
Richard laughed, leaning back as the waitress approached with our food.
“You could and I’ll be more than happy to bail you out of jail.”
Coming into the kitchen that night, I was happy to see a message from
John on my machine, just saying hi, seeing how my day was. It was Tuesday and I hadn’t spoken to him
since kissing him good-bye on Sunday.
The message itself was upbeat, but he sounded tired and I felt a twinge
at missing his call and not calling him yesterday. I had deliberately stopped myself from
calling several times, still struggling with what to do, what I was feeling and
what expectations might be there – either on his part toward me or, worse in my
opinion, mine toward him. The clock read
a bit after nine so I figured it wasn’t too late to call.
“Hello?”
I smiled at the sound of his voice. “Hi – it’s me. I just got in from dinner and saw your
message and wanted to see how your day was going. Did you have a good day?” I could hear the TV going in the background,
but couldn’t tell what he was watching.
He sighed and I heard the TV suddenly go silent. “It was OK.
Nothing special – just long. How
was yours?”
I chuckled, “About the same, but productive and I had dinner with a
friend tonight to catch up. I hadn’t
seen him for a couple of weeks.” I
hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if it was the Top in me or the
concerned … whatever I was since neither boyfriend or lover seemed right…that
wanted to ask before plunging in, “Are you OK?
You sounded tired on your message.”
“I am tired,” he said simply and I could hear the weariness in his
voice. “We had a situation at work that
I had to deal with and it just took a lot out of me. It’s going to be a long, long week.” He paused for a second and I heard him take a
deep breath in and let it out and then in a more chipper voice that rang forced
even to my ears he said, “But oh well, the bills have to be paid and that’s
what adults do and that’s why they call it work, not fun and all those other
sayings.” He gave a short laugh and
added, “Such is life.”
I paused for a second, silently debating with myself and then said,
“Would it help turn the Work into a little more fun if I took you to lunch
tomorrow? We could create a new word for
it, like Furk.” The sound of his quick laugh made me
smile and I knew that I had made the right decision to ask about lunch, not
dinner.
“That sounds dangerously close to something that’s definitely fun and
definitely not work. Lunch would be
great,” John said softly. “That would
really be nice. Are you sure you don’t
mind?”
“I don’t mind at all,” I said honestly.
“Would you like to meet me or should I pick you up?” I heard him hesitate and could almost hear
the wheels in his head spinning as he thought about it. The slight possibility of questions, lurid
assumptions if he were seen being picked up by another guy versus the wasted
time by meeting and having to part earlier with two cars. “I promise,” I said, trying to convey easy
acceptance of whatever his decision would be, “My car doesn’t have anything
remotely rainbow or pink triangle-ish and I don’t
even own a Barbara Streisand or Judy Garland CD. In fact, to your horror, I’ll probably be
playing a country station. Or,” I continued,
“I can impress you with my wonderful ability to find the perfect table at any
restaurant. Good view, enough room for
some privacy, away from any screaming children and with a friendly but not too
cute so you’re distracted waiter.”
He laughed again. “As much as I’ve appreciated all your other talents,
I think I’d like it if you’d pick me up.
This way we can see what sounds good and not have to do it
tonight.” He paused and sighed, “I don’t
think I’m up to trying to think about where to go tonight and all the details.”
“You said you were tired,” I said softly. “Why don’t you go to bed or are you in bed
already and I woke you up?”
“No, I’m sitting in the living room looking at some work.”
I couldn’t help myself and really made no attempt at stopping myself
from dropping my voice a bit, taking on a tone that hadn’t been heard by anyone
in six months and saying, “John.” That was it, just his name in a Tone. I wasn’t surprised when he responded.
“I know, but it needs to be done.”
“Tonight? Does it honestly have
to be done tonight?”
He was silent for a minute before saying softly, “No, not really, but I
feel like I should get it done. I need
it for a meeting on Friday and who knows what the week will bring. Something might come up and then I’ll never
get to it.”
“Shh,” I said softly, still in the tone I had
used when I said his name. “You’ve got
time, even if something does come up.
Plus, you’re tired. How much good
are you doing working on it – or really, probably just staring at it – when
you’re tired?”
“You’re right,” he said in an even lower voice and sighed again,
muttering, “I’m tired.”
My brain was screaming for me to tell him that I’d be over. I wanted to be there, I wanted to hold him
and pet his hair, carry him into the bedroom and put him to bed. Hold him close with me snuggled up behind him
to keep him safe and warm, but I resisted.
Instead, I said softly, “Come on babe, take me to bed with you.”
He laughed at the unexpectedness of my words, “What?”
Resuming my tone, I said, “We’re going to hang up and you’re going to
do whatever it is that you do before bed and then, when you’re in bed, you’re
going to call me. How long do you think
it’ll take you?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“I’ll expect your call in fifteen, babe.” And then I hung up. I could picture him sitting on his sofa, work
papers spread out in front of him and staring at the now dead phone. I also knew, somehow, that he was smiling.
***********************
I was right and he was still smiling as he came out of his lobby door
and saw my car in the front drive.
“Hey,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat.
“You look happy,” I said with a smile as I pulled away from the
building, heading toward the main road and numerous restaurants.
He gave a very unmanly giggle that caused him instantly to blush before
nodding. “I am. I had an obscene phone call last night that
was wonderful. It relaxed me completely
and I slept so well.” Glancing almost
shyly my way, he added, “I wonder if he’ll call back tonight.”
I laughed and refused to turn in his direction and instead, pretended
to concentrate on the traffic and my driving.
“Oh, I’m sure he probably will.
Perverts like that are hard to put off sometimes. Once they know they’ve gotten a reaction from
you, they don’t let up until you say Uncle.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing that I was taught never to give up and
I’m rock hard under pressure.”
The opening was too great and, with traffic flowing freely, the risk
was non-existent. I reached over and
cupped his cock through his pants, running my thumb down the bulge. “Hmm, I guess you’re feeling really relaxed
right now and no pressure at all.”
He jumped, laughing and squirming under my touch. “God Eric!”
I laughed too, pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot I had decided
on as a default in case John didn’t suggest anything. “What?
You started it.”
“Did not,” he countered.
“Did too.”
“Did not,” he repeated, folding his arms and looking like he was
pouting.
I leaned over and rubbed my nose on his, eyes meeting eyes, before
moving down slightly and gently kissing him on the lips. “Did.”
He smiled and laughed, “I’ll give you this one, just because you’re a
great kisser, but don’t think you actually won anything here.” Then, glancing up at the restaurant, he
sighed. “This is perfect, thanks. I
don’t think I could have told you what was around here if my life depended on
it. Too many decisions right now; I’m
glad I didn’t have to make another one.”
Smiling, I rest my hand briefly on the small of his back as we walked
into the restaurant. The playing back
and forth, the teasing, the easy acceptance of me taking charge even as he
still retained his natural personality and opinions made my stomach flutter. This was perfect and even if it didn’t develop
into anything long term or even if it did, it was enough to make me happy
without the complications of a true discipline relationship.
******************
Three months later, I glanced out the window at the leaves just
beginning to pick up the first hints of fall color and frowned. It was after six and John was over 45 minutes
late from when he typically was at my place and at least fifteen minutes after
the latest he had ever shown up without a phone call. It was Friday evening and, as we had gotten
into the routine of doing for the last two months, he was spending the weekend
at my place. He still had his apartment,
of course, but he also had a drawer in my dresser and space in my closet and a
spare toothbrush in his favorite color sat next to mine in the holder. He had
met Richard for dinner several times, I had a spare key for his place and he
had one for mine and we could easily order each other’s preferred drinks at
lunch. We were, for all intents and purposes,
living together three nights out of the week.
It wasn’t the same as picking out a china pattern by any means, but we
had an understanding, our routines and we were both starting to casually think
about him not renewing his lease when it came due in February.
His tardiness was something that was rapidly becoming a problem and
we’d fallen into a bit of a pattern about it.
I’d say something, he’d apologize, and then it wouldn’t be an issue for
a couple of weeks before he was seriously late again. I understood traffic, I understood being
caught at work, but I couldn’t understand his refusal to pick up one of his two
phones and let me know what was going on.
I made a face and resumed dicing onions for the burgers we were going to
have, telling myself that if this was the biggest problem of our relationship,
we were great. My annoyance reappeared
ten minutes later when I heard the front door being unlocked and he walked in.
“Hi honey, I’m home!” he called out, dropping his briefcase by the door
and toeing off his dress shoes to kick them over by the case.
I came out of the kitchen and said in a neutral tone, “I’m sorry, did I
miss your call telling me you were going to be almost an hour late?”
He dropped his eyes as I walked over toward him. “No call, sorry, I
know I’m late. I just got caught up with
some stuff – emails and whatnot – and then when I realized the time, I just
grabbed my things and went out the door.
I didn’t think about calling.”
“That’s fine,” I said evenly, “I understand that, John. But what about your cell phone?” I wanted to reach out and pull him close to
me, hug him and smooth away the tired lines from his face, but I was more
determined to break him of this habit.
I had a good idea what his answer would be, what was going through his
mind and this was not the first time we had bumped into this over the last few
months.
He gave a shrug but didn’t answer, shifting on his feet slightly, not
daring to look me in the eye.
“Well?” I asked softly.
I allowed him to rage another minute about the traffic and Fridays
before I said in the firm tone he responded to so well, “And all of this we’ve
talked about and agreed on. Even if you
forget to call me when you leave the office, if you’re running late, you are to
call me from the car so I know you’re on your way. It’s rude and disrespectful to me and to our
relationship.” I closed the distance between us and reached up, gently touching
his face. “Yes?”
He made a face. “But you know I’m coming. You know I’m on my way. It was just a few minutes, I don’t get the
big deal, it wasn’t that long.” He
pulled away and started for the kitchen. “I’m tired of talking about this.”
Feeling my anger and annoyance at his attitude flair up again, I caught
him by the arm and walked him into the kitchen, stopping as we reached the
dining area. “I’m tired of talking about
this too, John.” Leading him unresisting
around the table as if we were going to go through the French doors outside, I
continued, “You say it’s OK because I know you’re coming, it’s just a few
minutes and whatnot?”
He nodded, but wisely kept his mouth shut, sensing my mood.
“Then I think a bit of a lesson on how long a few minutes can feel
like, even if you know the end results, might do you some good.” Turning him, still unresisting, so that we
faced the corner of the dining room, I said, “Stand here until I say you can
turn around. Don’t lean against the
wall, don’t speak and don’t turn around.
I’ll tell you when your time is up.”
My hand itched to swat him several times across the butt to drive home
my words, but I simply stepped back.
John turned slightly and opened his mouth to speak.
Cutting him off, I held up a hand, ordering, “Turn back around and face
the corner. I haven’t given you
permission yet and I won’t for a while.
Stand there and think about the conversations we’ve had about this in
the past, think about the conversation we just had and how the last five
minutes could have turned out differently.”
He met my eyes for a long moment before biting his lip slightly and
silently turning around, eyes now on the corner.
Setting the timer on the stove for ten minutes, I finished mixing the
meat for the hamburgers and set the butter out to soften for the buns. For the rest of the time, I leaned against
the counter and studied my lover’s back as I sipped my can of coke. His shoulders and posture had gone from ram
rod straight, hard and defiant and proud, to more relaxed. Not slumped in defeat or submission, but simply
more relaxed and at ease. It was classic
Brat and, as long as this was all it took – a firm tone, the occasional firm
action – to keep him happy, to keep our relationship strong and healthy, I was
fine with it. I could do this much for
him, for us.
I hit the cancel button on the stove when it reached the five second
count down and walked softly over to him.
Standing behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed his
neck, having to stretch slightly to do so.
I felt him relax against me with a soft sigh and shudder as if his
breath caught in his throat. “So why
didn’t you call me when you got into your car?” I asked softly, not moving him
from the corner.
“I was afraid you’d be mad and tell me not to bother,” he said so
softly that if I hadn’t already known what he was going to say, I don’t think I
would have understood him. It was
exactly what I was expecting and I knew that it was the truth, not just a
line. The mysteries of John were slowly
revealing themselves to me.
Kissing him again and squeezing my arms tight around him, I said softly
but firmly, “But why would I say that, John?
It’s Friday and you belong here on Friday night, with me.” Feeling him shrug, I repeated myself,
unwilling to let him off the hook. “No,
answer me.”
He twisted quickly in my arms so we were facing each other, closing his
eyes quickly before he said in a rush of words, “Because I screwed everything
up by being so late. I could have left
at 4:30, I could have left at five, but I didn’t. There’s so much on my desk right now that it
was almost screaming at me to stay so I caved in and did. Then, when I saw the time later, all I could
picture was you being annoyed because we’ve talked about this so many times and
I figured if I just came over without calling you might not have noticed the
time or maybe you wouldn’t even be here for some reason or just so happy to see
me that you wouldn’t care and you’d let me stay.” The confession out, he pulled back slightly,
still staying within the safe confines of my arms and tried to judge my
reaction and if he had said too much, revealed too much of himself and was now
going to be found lacking.
“I’ve been home all afternoon, I noticed the time, I noticed you were
late, I was happy to see you, but that’s not why you’re being allowed to
stay.” My voice was firm and neutral as
I wanted his whole attention focused on me.
“Do you know why you’re staying?”
He shook his head wordlessly.
“Because this is where you belong, John. Regardless of how annoyed I might be, regardless
if we’re fighting or making love. It’s
Friday and you belong here, at my house, with me, Friday, Saturday and
Sunday. You leave from here on Monday
mornings. That’s why you’re staying,
because you belong here and I never contemplated anything different.”
Nodding silently, he leaned into me and held me close.
I did the same and slowly rocked slightly with him in my arms. There was really nothing else for me to
say. I had said it all – again - and
meant it - again. The battle was now
within him to allow my words and their meaning to sink in and slowly continue
eroding away at the faulty foundations laid by others.
Several long minutes later he took a deep breath and straightened up,
smiling at me. “Those twenty minutes in
the corner were ungodly long and boring.”
I smiled and patted his butt, unable to resist. “It was only ten. Imagine how long twenty would feel like.”
He frowned, “Really? Ten?”
I nodded.
He laughed, shaking his head. “That was horrible. Next time just spank me and get it over
with.”
His words shocked me and in the few seconds I had to process, decide
what to say and then actually say it, I made up my mind not to encourage
him. I had gone about as far as I was
willing to go and no further. Instead, I
laughed and kissed him. “I think the corner had a very good effect on
you.” Leaving it at that, I walked back
into the kitchen, saying over my shoulder, “Are you getting hungry?” I couldn’t hear anything from him as I
puttered around in the kitchen, getting out the cheese, making what I hoped was
a casual production of pulling chips out of the basket on top of the
fridge. Out of the corner of my eye, I
saw him standing there, where I left him in the dining area. I don’t think he knew how much I could feel
the elephant in the room. I could sense
it and I could feel his words hanging in the air between us. Or maybe he did and was now struggling to
understand why I hadn’t leapt at his offer.
“Yeah, I am,” he said a minute later and then laughed, “Sorry, sort of zoned there for a second.”
I smiled at him. “You must be hungry.
Do you want to go up and take a shower first and relax? This can
wait. It’s what you usually do.”
He nodded. “Yes, please. A
shower would be great.”
Anxious to smooth over any doubts and clear the air, plus my body’s
natural reaction to dominating him even the small amount I did, made me smile.
“Would you like some company?”
John smiled. “It’s what you usually do too.”
Laughing, I nodded and walked back over to him. He was right and this was as much part of our
new routine as anything. “Go on, I’ll be
there in a minute.”
He smiled and kissed me quickly, “Don’t be late.”
I kissed him back, laughing and said, “I’m not the one with that
problem.” I took a deep breath, letting
it out slowly as soon as he was out of the kitchen. It was a struggle sometimes to control myself
and stay within the self-imposed boundaries that I was comfortable with. There was no doubt in my mind that John had
never actually been spanked, at least as an adult. He might have been teasing, but he also might
not have been. He might have just been
responding to the situation, casting around to find the right words and
reactions to match what he was feeling or wanting. Or, just as likely, I told myself as I walked
down the hall toward the back of the house and the master bedroom, he was
teasing and making a joke. Regardless, I
wasn’t rising to the bait and wouldn’t risk our relationship on letting myself
get out of control and back into a relationship I no longer wanted. Plus, there were plenty of other ways to
dominate and control him that didn’t require any sort of discussion, consent or
drama.
“Hi,” he said almost shyly, stepping out from the small bathroom
connected to the master. His hair was
slightly damp and he had a towel wrapped modestly around his waist.
Lighting the last candle on the dresser, I smiled, “Hi yourself,
babe.” I had turned out the lights and
opened the blinds so that the setting sun was coming into the room. There were no neighbors that could see into
the backyard and I liked to take advantage of the privacy. “Come here.”
He made his way over to me and smiled, leaning down to kiss me. “I love routines,” he said quietly.
“I know you do and so do I. We’re perfectly matched that way,” I said
with a smile. Reaching out, I undid his
towel and allowed it to drop to the floor,
running a hand slowly down his chest as I leaned up and began to kiss
him. I heard him moan slightly as he
gripped my waist to hold me close as my hand reached his cock. “Such a nice, nice toy,” I whispered. “It’s a shame I don’t get to see it more
often.” My tongue pressed into his
mouth, tasting him and making him moan again in eager response as my hand
stroked him over and over until he was hard and jutting upwards against my
jeans.
“Please,” he moaned, rubbing himself against my leg and my own hard
erection. “Please, Eric.”
Pulling him closer to me, I reached around with my other hand and slid
it down his bare butt, allowing my fingers to dip into the crease there,
pulling it open slightly and exposing him.
I chuckled as he groaned deeply, twisting and turning as if his body
wasn’t sure which side was going to be the more pleasurable – my fingers
teasing him or the friction of his cock against my jeans. “Patience, babe,” I ordered as I stilled both
hands. Turning him slightly, I led him
to the bed. “Kneel down, hands and knees, right on the edge of the bed for me,
let your legs hang off. I’m going to be
right behind you and won’t let you fall, promise.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked, the eagerness in his voice being
slightly overridden by nerves.
“I’m going to give you exactly what you’re begging for,” I said with a
smile, kissing him again and pushing him toward the bed with a nod. Reaching behind me on the dresser, I quickly
snatched up the lube and a condom I had laid out while he was in the
shower.
John groaned as he knelt on the edge of the bed, his knees slightly
together with his legs off into space behind him. His hands gave him plenty of support, but I
knew he felt slightly off balance.
“Eric,” he said again.
“I’m here, babe,” I said as I came up behind him, standing between his
legs. “I’m right here, I promise.” Stroking his back, I said, “God you look
amazing like this.” I pushed up behind
him, my jean covered crotch making contact with his bare skin and rubbing him
as he started to rock in motion with my hips.
“Spread your legs wider for me,” I ordered. “Let me see how much you want me. Let me see where you want me.”
Shifting on the bed, rocking a bit under my hands, he spread his legs
wider and then arched his back as he folded his arms and rested his head on
them. He moaned as the crotch of my
jeans rubbed against his butt and opening and I could sense small tremors pulsing
through his skin.
“That’s right,” I said encouragingly, gently grinding myself against
him. “God, you look so amazing.” With one hand, I undid my zipper, tugging my
jeans down to get easy access to my cock between the slit in my shorts. “I’m standing right behind you, but I need
both hands for a minute so I want you to be still and not move around,” I
ordered as I slowly removed my steadying hand and quickly tore open the condom
packet. With a sigh of deep regret and a
silent vow to talk to John about this, I gently rolled it on and then covered
the latex with lube.
“Eric,” John said quietly, rocking a bit on his knees.
“Right here, babe,” I said, repositioning myself and sliding a lubed
finger into his opening. “How does that
feel?”
He laughed, wiggling a bit. “Better than a second ago.”
“Oh, so you think that’s funny?” I said in a mock serious tone,
withdrawing my finger as I moved both hands to his hips. “How about you keep your hands exactly where
they are, then? We’ll see who’s laughing
when I’m done.” Nudging his opening with
my cock, I said, “How does that sound?”
Spreading his legs wider, John laughed, “I think that sounds mean and
like you’re going to be having all the fun.
I’m not so sure …” His words
turned into a deep moan as I gave a small push and the head of my cock
disappeared into his body.
“You were saying?” I asked with a smile, slowly pushing my way half way
inside him. Even after months of sex, he
was still as tight as the first time and my body had just the same reaction –
pure joy, pounding lust and an almost overwhelming desire to slam full into him
hard over and over again until he screamed out my name and declared my
ownership of his body. It was torture to
slowly enter him like this, but I was too scared of my own feelings right now –
for both of our sakes – not to.
“God, Eric,” he breathed out, back arching more to aid in the
penetration. “I’ve been dreaming about
this all day. God, yes,” he said as I
pushed all the way inside and stopped.
“So full, god, it hurts, but it's so perfect too. I can barely stand it,
god, no, please.”
I smiled as I slowly fucked him.
This wasn’t making love in the common sense, but it also wasn’t
mindless, thoughtless, thrusting in and out, in and out with one goal in mind. It was controlled and I made note of every
moan and groan and plea from him and my own body’s reaction. I didn’t want to come too soon and I backed
off several times when I felt myself staring at the edge, seconds from going
over. I was controlling him as much as I
was controlling myself. I could make him
plead as I pulled almost completely out, doing small thrusts right at his
opening, or groan with pleasure with long, smooth thrusts that brushed over his
prostate, sending sparks firing through his brain. Or, my favorite, thrust all the way inside,
hard, filling him completely with movements that I knew he’d feel later and
remember me and what I had been doing to him, his moans of being taken hard
filling the room.
“I can’t take any more, Eric,” he cried out, shaking beneath my
hands. “Please, god, I’ve got to
come. I’m going to explode if I
don’t. Please, let me come!”
Thrusting fully inside of him and stilling myself, I leaned over,
driving myself deeper than ever and kissed his back. “You have my permission, babe. Touch yourself and show me how much you like
this.” I wrapped an arm around his
chest, taking some of the weight off his arms and helping him lean up a little
so he could reach his cock. The movement
caused him to moan, as my cock shifted inside him and he cried out again in
pleasure. “Eric!”
Wanting to come with him, I increased my thrusts and allowed myself to
race toward the edge. His body tightened
around me as he gave a final cry and I knew he was coming hard into his hand. A long moment later and with a final push
deep inside, I felt my balls tighten and plunged over the edge after him.
Twenty minutes later, we lay curled up together in bed. He was naked still and I had stripped down to
my boxers. They were damp and wrinkled,
but they gave me a small layer of restraint that I was rapidly growing to
resent. I was on my side, facing him and
slowly rubbing his sweaty back.
John sighed and then shifted a bit, turning his head so that he was
facing me. He was laying flat on his
stomach, legs intertwined with mine.
“Hi,” he said softly as his eyes met mine.
“Hi.”
He smiled tiredly even as the blush began to rise on his cheeks. “God I
feel good, but I can’t believe how loud I was.
Thank god we weren’t at my place or the neighbors would have been
calling the cops.”
I laughed softly. “You were perfect.
I love hearing you crying out and pleading.”
Shaking his head, he closed his eyes in embarrassment, obviously not
believing me completely. “I couldn’t help myself. The feeling of your jeans against me, knowing
that you were dressed while I was kneeling and naked and spread out and begging
to be fucked … god … it was just …” His
voice trailed off, lost in the memory.
“The picture …”
“Was lovely,” I said with a smile, my hand stilling on his back for a
minute, resting there hard and firm and connecting us together.
“You look deep in thought, though, what’s up?” Then he laughed and moved his leg so that it
lightly brushed my upper thigh and boxers. “I don’t know if I’m up for round
two yet.”
The abrupt change in subject didn’t bother me and it was something I
had come to expect from him in times like these. Too much revealing, too close to some deep
emotions and unleashed feelings and we’d skirt around them for awhile before he
finally opened up enough that we could talk about it. I laughed, “Don’t worry, that will be at
least another five minutes.” Then,
turning slightly more serious, I said, “I was just wondering how many others
have had the pleasure of seeing such a wonderful sight. Your skin is flushed and you’re glowing a
little, soft and pliant under my hand.
You look so amazing and I can’t help but want you.”
John blushed and giggled a bit, embarrassed by my words, but I could
also tell how pleased he was. “I want
you, too.” He sighed and then took a
deep breath. “Do you really want to know?”
“Know what, babe?”
“How many there were before you?”
I looked at him and smiled. “Only if you want to tell me. If not, I’m perfectly content knowing that
I’m the only one right now.” I paused,
pretended to think about it and then looked hard at him, raising an eyebrow. “I
am the only one right now, right?”
He laughed and nodded, snuggling closer to me. “Yes, Eric, you’re the only one.” Then, taking a deep breath, he
continued, “In fact, you’re the only one
in about two years. You’re my third
lover, if the first two can even be called that and the only one that I’ve had
sex with more than twice.” He went quiet
and I could feel his stillness under my hands, waiting for my response.
Moving closer, snuggling him in tight, I said softly, “Third time’s the
charm then, huh?” I kissed him gently as
I stroked his skin, not wanting to break the quietness of the mood, but also
wanting to reassure him. “I’m honored,
John. I’m honored that you’ve gone
further with me than anyone else and allowed me to know you better than anyone
else. I’m surprised though, you’re so
cute and I bet you’ve had a lot of offers.”
Shrugging, he just said, “I was figuring things out for a while and
wanted to make sure I got it right. This
was a huge step for me and had a lot of meaning. I needed to be sure of myself before I took
it; I didn’t want to drag anyone else along while I went looking for stuff.”
“And you’re sure now, figured stuff out?”
He nodded, kissing me with a smile.
“Totally.”
I took a deep breath and said, “Since we’re being upfront and open
right now, I’d like to present an idea
to you. Feel free to say No, Too Soon,
Never, whatever you feel and I won’t take offense.”
“I’m really not into threesomes,” he said seriously and then quickly
laughed, breaking the tension.
Pulling him almost on top of me, I rubbed my hand on his bare butt.
“That’s not where I was going, but thanks for the information.”
He grinned, “Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page and
everything. I’m a one-guy guy and I
don’t share. Too much sharing growing up
with two brothers and I’m not doing it again.”
“Well, in the vein of not sharing, I was wondering how you’d feel about
forgoing the condoms. I’m clean for a
fact. I haven’t been with anyone but you
in over six months and I’ve had a quarterly test done for years. We can go in tomorrow if you want and should
have the results back in a few days.”
Smiling, he kissed me again. “That might be interesting.”
I concentrated on not breaking contact or letting my expression change
as I noticed the neatly side-stepped answer.
Not a No, but certainly not a Yes either.
“When you say you’re clean, I trust that you’re clean. I’ve been tested once a year with my physical
and, like I said, just two guys several years ago and we were all very
careful,” he continued, eyes breaking contact with mine as he snuggled against
my chest. “It is something to think
about.”
“Maybe we’ll look at that this weekend or so then,” I said with a
smile. I was disappointed in his non-answer, but didn’t want to pressure him or
make it an issue between us. I would
give him some time and, if the situation didn’t come to a head on its own, I’d
look at bringing it up again. I’d found
though that these sort of things tended to take care of themselves. Sitting up slightly, I glanced at the
clock. “As much as laying around in bed
with you all evening sounds good, I’m getting hungry.”
He laughed again, rolling free from my arms to sit up, saying over his
shoulder, “You did expend a lot of energy earlier. All the calories must be replaced.” Standing up and stretching he grinned as I
let out a low whistle. “Go shower; I’ll
get the burgers started.”
“John!” I yelled as he bent over
to grab a pair of sweat pants he had previously laid out on the chair.
“What!” he said, jerking up, eyes darting around the room to see why I
had yelled.
I grinned, getting out of bed. “Don’t bend over like that. It’s too tempting and I really am hungry.”
Stunned into silence for a second, he laughed and stuck out his
tongue. “Shower Eric, and better make it
a cold one!” he yelled as I disappeared
into the bathroom with a laugh.
****************************
Despite big talk and grandiose plans, Friday night followed the same
pattern as the previous dozen. John
cooked dinner for us; I cleaned up while he sat on one of the kitchen counters
so we could talk and he could keep me company.
Then, we retired to the living room and flipped on the TV to watch
Jeopardy. We were evenly matched and
both got as many right answers as wrong ones, alternating between cheering each
other on with a particularly hard answer and heckling when an easy one was
missed.
“You know,” he said with a sly grin at the end of Final Jeopardy. “Guessing The British Empire might have been
a good guess … if the category hadn’t been US History.”
“I just forgot the category!” I protested, hitting him gently with a
pillow as I stood up. “Want to go for a
walk?”
“Smooth change of subject, Eric,” he said with a laugh, even as he
stood up and went in search of his shoes.
Walking around the neighborhood, occasionally heading up to the main
road and one of our several favorite desserts spots, was something we both
enjoyed. Now that fall was here and the
oppressive heat broke in the evenings, it was pleasant. It was an easy two mile walk from my house to
our furthest dessert place with several in between. A few minutes later, shoes and wallets found,
we stepped outside. As we started up the
side walk, I quietly took his hand, holding it softly in mine, loving the feel
and the connection. This was the only
time John felt comfortable touching for more than a quick moment in public. I could brush the small of his back going
into a restaurant or brush against his hand when we were walking, but that was
it. I had managed to steal exactly six
quick public kisses in the last four months and I knew those had thrilled and
excited him almost as much as they had scared and embarrassed him.
“This is so nice,” he said with a relaxed sigh, swinging our arms
slightly and then laughed, “I look
around and see all these cute old homes and these wonderful trees and lawns and
it’s hard to believe we’re in the middle of a city. I know as soon as we go three more blocks, if
I look off to the left, I’ll see a sky scraper all lit up and full of
life. But right now, the main life is
birds and stupid squirrels.”
“The squirrels aren’t stupid,” I said with a smile. “They just love your bird feeder.” John had decided I needed a bird feeder so,
as sort of a host gift the first weekend he stayed over, he brought one with
him, complete with a tub of feed. We had
fun anchoring it into a good size limb of a tree where it would be visible from
the dining area and porch. By Sunday
evening, it was empty of all seed thanks to the horde of squirrels in the
area. Ever since, he had been hatching
plans ranging from special feed they didn’t like to arsenic and BB Guns,
assuring me that he was an excellent shot and absolutely no risk to the
neighbors.
I shook my head, asking, “Don’t they have squirrels in Charleston?”
He stopped dead in his tracks, pulling his hand from mine in mock
horror as he pretended to swoon. “In
Charleston? In the Historic District? Squirrels are nothing more than rats with big
tails, hell no they wouldn’t be allowed in Charleston.” He laughed, taking up my hand again, “Or at
least not where I grew up, area south of Broad.
There the Historic Committee rules everything from window treatments to
colors you paint your house and even who buys there. The squirrels would have to give references
before being allowed to move in.”
Laughing, I smiled at him. “You are so full of it.”
He grinned at me and shrugged, adding a cheeky wink that made me wish
we were back at home so I could ravish him again.
We made our way up to the restaurants, chatting quietly about nothing
in particular and enjoying the exercise and beautiful weather. “So what do you feel like?” I asked as we got
to Peachtree. I felt his hand tug
slightly, wanting to be free, but I kept a casual hold, pretending I didn’t
notice. The streets weren’t crowded, the
area was very gay friendly and no one would care or even notice if by some
miracle they happened to see us holding hands.
“I want cake,” he said with a smile after giving it a moment’s thought.
“Cake it is then!” A block
later, I finally released his hand, wanting him to get comfortable with the
concept, but not wanting to push. I
glanced over and saw him smile quickly at me and wink.
“I know,” he said softly, bumping into me as we walked. “I’m working on it. It’s just hard, you don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?” I asked easily, bumping back into him.
He shrugged, “I don’t know.
Maybe how weird this sometimes is?
How happy I am even though a good part of me feels like I shouldn’t be
because I know what I’ve done to my parents and how disappointed and honestly,
disgusted they are? And part of me feels
like I should be disgusted with myself too, but I’m not and I know I’m
not. I know what I’m doing is good and
right and who I am and all that self-affirmation shit books tell you. It’s true and I know it, but that doesn’t
stop the little voice and twinges sometimes.
And publicly doing stuff that would clearly mark me as Gay isn’t
something I’m ready for. I just don’t
need external, angry voices adding strength to my little voice.” His words came
out in a non-stop tumble with barely a pause to catch his breath before coming
to an abrupt halt and almost visibly clamping his mouth shut around the
self-revealing words.
Looking around the street, seeing people coming and going and walking
just like us, all lost in their own conversations and actions and not paying us
a bit of attention, I brushed his hand with mine. “I understand what you’re saying and while my
experiences certainly haven’t been the same as yours, I know some of what
you’re talking about. We all have little
voices, John.”
I could see him almost dismiss my words as he shrugged, but he still
gave me a small smile as he glanced over and brushed my hand back in response.
“And honey, I hate to break it to you and while you are certainly the
center of my universe, I don’t think you’re all that important to any of these
other people out here.” I laughed,
making sure he knew I was teasing him and did an exaggerated look around and
then shook my head. “Nope, don’t
think. The guy up there with the three
lip rings or the girl in the hot pink tank top and no bra will beat you in
interest by a mile.” To my relief, he
laughed and gently bumped into me again.
“You’re such a goof, Eric,” he said with a laugh.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“A very good thing. Now, let’s
get some cake. I’m starving.”
Laying in bed that night, the dark making it impossible to see much, I
slowly began to drift asleep. John was
warm and heavy in my arms and I could just make out the light scent of mint
from his shower before bed. We hadn’t
made love again, but I was fully content and very satisfied.
“Eric, are you still awake?”
“Sort of,” I answered softly, shifting a bit against him. “Why?”
“You know what we were talking about earlier? When we were walking to
get dessert? About holding hands and stuff?”
His voice was quiet, but I could hear a strength in it that he tapped
into from some hidden reserve when it was important. I had heard it in his voice when we talked
about moving in together, the first time we had made love and when he had told
me how he had defied his parents and moved to Atlanta against their wishes and
now again, tonight. “Of course I
remember, babe. What about it?”
“I need you to be patient with me,” he started and then, when I opened
my mouth to say something, squeezed my hands that were wrapped around his
waist. “I’m not saying you’re not now,
but I am saying what I need. Sometimes
I’ll take a really big step and then have to take a bunch of baby steps
afterwards to sort of regain my balance.
Other times, I’ll need to take a few baby steps leading up to the big
one. Either way, I need you to just be
patient with me. I know what I want,
where I want be and sometimes it just takes some time for me to get there so I
need you to be patient with me.”
There was so much I wanted to say - comfort him, pet him and reassure
him that I was there for him. I wanted
to take care of him and love him enough to push aside whatever doubts he was
carrying around inside and convince him that I was slowly but surely and
against my better judgment unable to imagine life without him. I also knew that that’s not what he was
looking for. He was being very honest
and telling me exactly what to say and nothing else. So, I said it, softly but firmly. “Of course, John, I have no problem with
being patient with you. I know you’ll
get where you need to be.”
“Thank you,” he said with a sigh and then fell silent.
**************************
It wasn’t snooping, it wasn’t
even being overly curious, even though it might have looked like that to
untrained eyes. Luckily, I had a clear
conscience on how I happened to read John’s test results. We had gone to be tested the week after I
suggested it, he just rolled over the next Saturday and asked where we were
going to go. Having talked myself into
being Fine with waiting for however long he needed just a week before, the
question took me by surprise and I had no idea what he was talking about. I had built it up in my mind a bit, some sort
of hearts and flowers moment, deep declared love or at least some sort of sign
to mark the occasion. Instead, we were
in and out in fifteen minutes, ten of which were spent filling out forms, and
then had lunch at Wendy’s.
Now it was three weeks later and I was over at John’s apartment waiting
for him to get home. It was Wednesday
afternoon and that had become our normal routine. With him over at my place from Friday until
Monday morning, I knew his own cleaning and laundry were neglected and with me
there, we could quickly make short work of his chores. I had done it the first time as a surprise
for him, but now it was something we both enjoyed and it made the time between
weekends seem less long. The opened
envelope was right there, not tucked away, not even put in with his bills that
I studiously avoided. It was just
sitting there, along with the Coupon Collection flyer and post card reminding
him that it had been five months since his last dental cleaning and he should
schedule soon ... but not too soon since insurance requires a full six months
between cleaning and the dentist takes no responsibility for inaccurately
scheduled appointments. Putting the
postcard in a more obvious spot by the phone, I brushed the envelope from the
clinic onto the floor and the results accidentally fell out, unfolding as they
fell. The miracle sometimes of
coincidence and science. Like mine, the
results were short and sweet and he was completely healthy.
I shoved the results back in their envelope and before I had a chance
to wonder when he was going to tell me, my cell rang. A quick glance at the clock and the number made
me smile, anticipating a fun night or at least weekend ahead. “Hi babe, what’s up?”
He sighed deeply before saying the first word. “I’m stuck in traffic
and running late. I wanted to call and
let you know before it got so late that you’d worry.”
“Or notice?” I asked with a chuckle.
Laughing, he said, “Yes, Eric, that too.”
“What’s going on? Get out late or traffic?”
“Honestly a bit of both. I’ve
been feeling crappy all day and just not operating at 100%. Of course we’re slammed right now so … oops, hold on for a sec.”
Suddenly the blaring noise of his horn shot into my ear as I jerked the
phone away. He was obviously leaning on
his horn with the hand holding the phone.
A second later, I heard him yell.
“Get back in your lane you idiot! Just because you have your signal on
doesn’t give you the right just to move the fuck into my lane! Jesus fucking
Christ! I’m right here and you’re not getting in front of me so move the fuck
back over and get the fuck behind me if you just have to get over now!”
I heard shifting and then John was back on the line still
muttering. “Problems, babe?” I asked
casually.
He laughed slightly. “Sorry about that, but some idiot in a massive SUV
with Alabama plates almost cut me off.”
“I heard.”
“I swear, stupid tourists shouldn’t be out on the road during rush hour
if they don’t know how to drive in traffic.
It’s too early for Christmas shoppers – it’s still a week until
Thanksgiving.” He sighed deeply and then
plunged on. “Anyway, no problem and all taken care of.”
I shook my head. “And you don’t see him loading a gun behind you now,
ready to take you out for not letting him over?
You could have just let him in, you know.”
“Eric,” John said in a deeply patient voice that made me smile, “I
already have about a thousand cars in front of me, separating me from you. Do you really think I need another one? With lights, sometimes one car can make a
difference in whether or not you make the yellow or are trapped waiting another
five minutes.” He lowered his voice. “Do
you really want me delayed another five minutes? It’s been two days and I have something that
might interest you …”
Laughing, unable to stop myself, I shook my head. “That’s the kind of
killer instinct I love; don’t let another car in front of you, babe. The kitchen is clean, your laundry is
started, fresh sheets on the bed and I’m waiting for you. You can show me what’s interesting then.”
“Thank you. I knew you’d see it my way.”
Hanging up the phone, still laughing at the smugness in his voice, I
could feel myself grinning.
The grin disappeared twenty minutes later when I heard his key at the
door and saw him. He was pale and drawn
with exhausted looking eyes. Even his
hair was limp and stringy as if it too were sick. He obviously hadn’t been exaggerating in the
slightest when he said he didn’t feel 100%.
Honestly, he didn’t look like he felt 50%. Shaking my head, I walked out of the kitchen
and into the living room, pulling him into a hug a few steps from the front
door. “You’re sick, this is not Not 100%, John. This
is sick.”
He smiled and gave a small shrug.
“It really hit me around lunch time I guess.” Laughing, he said with a shake of his head,
“Be happy that I’m out of the car. I’ve
been sitting out there for about five minutes and almost called so you could
drag me out and up the stairs.”
Kissing his forehead, I frowned. “I think you’ve got a fever. Have you taken anything?” I knew the answer and shook my head even as
he gave me a small shrug that spoke volumes louder than anything his voice
could tell me. I took his briefcase and
tossed it in the general direction of the front door.
“Hey,” he protested, “be careful with that. There’s work in there and it was
expensive. Plus, if you scuff the walls,
I won’t get my security deposit back.”
“I’ll help you repaint,” I said simply, “and John, your security
deposit is really the last thing on my mind right now. I’m more concerned with getting you settled.”
“How about we just crash on the couch for a bit, Eric?”
“How about I help you undress …”
He smiled tiredly. “That could work too.”
I shook my head, leading him back to the bedroom. “For a shower and
then bed.”
“Exactly my thoughts,” he said with a smile, seeming to perk up at the
idea. “It’s been two long, long days you
know. Almost three, actually. A boy gets lonely, you know.” Wrapping his arms tighter around my waist, he
sighed. “Come on Eric … you know you
want to.”
I laughed and kissed him on the cheek.
“I prefer it just to be the two of us, not you and me and the colony of
germs you’re currently playing host to.”
“Spoilsport.”
Leaving him to undress, I turned on the shower water and then adjusted
the heat in the apartment so it was warmer.
It wasn’t particularly chilly, but I wanted to make sure John didn’t get
cold.
“You want to come in here with me?” he yelled from the bathroom. “You know, make sure I don’t pass out or feel
faint or over exert myself trying to wash my back?”
“I think you’re fine and if you’re not, your apartment is small enough
that I’ll hear the thud and can come to the rescue.” Shaking my head as he laughed, I returned to
the kitchen to survey what he might like for dinner. As always, there were eggs and bread and the
fixings for various sandwiches. Plenty
of food that even I could cook up that would be easy to eat. I knew he was fine, I knew it was just a cold
and he’d probably be fine after a good night's sleep and maybe the day off
tomorrow, but I still didn’t like the idea of him being sick. I wanted to baby him, I wanted to cuddle him,
stroke his hair and fuss over him.
Heading back to the bathroom as I heard the shower shut off, I knew I
also wanted to turn him over my lap and deliver a short but still very
informative spanking that addressed exactly how displeased I was that he drove
home without even telling me he was sick.
Taking his temperature while he was still bent over so my hand could
rest on his bare butt would further drive home the message that his actions had
been irresponsible and not ones that should be repeated while I was in charge
of him. The mixture of humility, domination, submissiveness and a little bit of
discomfort combined into a wonderful mix that was both craved and dreaded.
“All clean,” he said simply as I came into the bedroom. He had already slipped on a pair of sweat
pants and looked as weary as when he came in.
Studying him for a moment, I kissed his forehead again, smoothing back
his hair. “I really do think you’re
running a bit of a fever. Do you have a
thermometer?”
He nodded. “Under the sink, there’s a box with band-aids and drugs and
whatnot. There should be one in there.”
“OK, why don’t you lay down and I’ll go get it and some Tylenol.” Coming back into the room a minute later
juggling the pill bottle, a glass of water and the thermometer, I smiled. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
He smiled sweetly. “Want me to roll over so you can take my
temperature?”
Like a month earlier when he suggested I spank him, I felt the words
hanging between us even as I gave a very fake sounding chuckle, to my ears at
least. “No, I don’t think it’s that kind
of thermometer. Sorry to disappoint, but
I think you’re fine the way you are.”
Ten minutes later, he was under the covers and drifting toward
sleep. He had a slight fever and took
some Tylenol, agreeing that maybe lying down for a few minutes before dinner
was a good idea. Pulling off his sweat
pants and sliding under the covers with a sigh, he smiled at me. “You make a wonderful nurse.”
Sitting down next to him, I rubbed his back. “You make a wonderful
patient.”
“Will you sit with me a little while I rest here?” he asked
softly. “It’s nice.”
Scooting down on top of the covers, I spooned up behind him, kissing
his hair and letting my free arm come up and circle his waist.
John sighed and I felt him relax against me. “Thank you,” he said simply several minutes
later, his voice rough with sleep. “Oh
and I forgot to tell you, I got my test results in and no problems. It’s in the kitchen if you want to see.”
I kissed him. “Great news. I
can’t wait until you’re feeling better and we can enjoy it. Maybe do something special this week?” I pulled him closer, disappointed this news
came with such bad timing. Anticipation
though often had a wonderful build up effect. “We can go someplace nice or
maybe stay home and try out all the rooms.”
My wonderful idea was meet with a low snore.
I woke him up forty five minutes later and made us both grilled cheese
and soup. It was a simple meal, but one
that fit the evening. Curling up
together on the couch, I flipped through various channels before settling on
the reruns.
“I feel much better,” he announced an hour later as Law & Order
went off.
I laughed, stroking his hair. He
had been lying down with his head in my lap fast asleep. “Well, I knew you weren’t dead judging by the
snores coming from you.”
“I do not snore, Eric,” he said, sitting up, dragging the blanket that
had covered him up with him. “Maybe
breathe deeply when I’m relaxed, but that’s way different than snoring.”
Smiling sweetly to make sure he was watching, I quickly dropped my head
back against the couch cushions, opened my mouth wide and snored loudly,
smacking my lips. “And you drool.”
“Eric! You are such a liar!” he yelled indignantly.
Not saying a word, I pointed to a damp spot on the top of my jeans
where his mouth had been open.
Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “You’re old and I can see that
having my mouth that close to your …” He
paused, searching for the right word.
“Glorious hunk of muscled man-ness?”
“I was thinking more like Friendly Pickle,” he answered, smiling
wickedly. “That it just got over excited and ….”
Grabbing the ends of his blanket, I tugged him back down toward me,
grinning. “Over excited, huh? And what do you think excited it so
much?” I kissed him on the forehead. “I
just don’t know what you think would excite me.”
He flopped back down with a sigh, resting his head again on my lap. “Oh
and here I was thinking it was me.”
Turning his head slightly, he began to nuzzle the inside of my leg. “And
since you were getting excited already and I was down here already … but ….”
Looking up at me with faux innocent eyes, he slowly winked.
I laughed and stroked his hair, spreading my legs slightly as I leaned
my head back. “Since you’re down there
already …” His technique had definitely
improved.
Three hours later, we were back in bed and I was slowly stroking his
back as I heard his breathing deepen as he fell asleep. He had taken some more Tylenol before bed
and, while still looking tired, was acting like he felt better.
“Are you sure you don’t want to do anything tonight?” he asked,
suddenly waking up.
“As much as I’d love to,” I said, rubbing against him, once again
grateful for the material separating us, “I’d at least like to have a fighting
chance that you’re not going to fall asleep on me before I’m done.”
He chuckled, “As if …”
“I don’t know, I remember a yawn a few weeks ago,” I started and then
jerked back as he jabbed an elbow into my stomach.
“It was four a.m., it’s a natural reflex, had nothing to do with you
and what you were doing.”
Kissing him, I said in a mock hurt voice, “If you say so, I guess I’ll
have to take your word for it.”
“Yes, you do,” he said, yawning.
“This weekend will be good though.”
He paused and then asked in a quiet voice, “Would you mind too much if I
planned something Friday night?”
I pushed back the immediate disappointment at the idea of him not
spending Friday night with me, reminding myself that we were both independent
adults, like I wanted, and that meant he did occasionally do things with other
people. “No, that’s fine. Are you going to come over later, after
you’re done, or Saturday morning?”
Rolling over, he looked at me in the darkness. “What?” Then came a slow smile. “I meant for us. Not me and someone else doing something. I
meant, me plan something special for us for Friday.” He smiled again and said, “I was asking if
you’d mind if I was the one to plan something for us on Friday night, you know,
after I get to your place.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought …” My
voice trailed off, embarrassed and grateful that we were in the dark. “No, of course I wouldn’t mind. I’d love it if you plan something. Just let me know if I should do anything or
have anything in the house or whatnot.”
Nuzzling against my chest, he said softly, “Did you really think that I
was going out with someone else?”
“Not Out out,” I protested. “But you know, work stuff, work people, other
friends. I know we spend a lot of time
together, but I don’t want to isolate you from anyone and you’re free to do
whatever you want.” Then I added
quickly, “And I’m OK with that. I want
that.”
Lifting his head, John meet my gaze for a moment and asked softly, “But
you’d rather I be home with you on Friday?”
The words shouted in my head so loudly and quickly that it surprised
me, but determined not to look like a possessive freak, I made sure my voice
was calm when I answered. “Yes, but only
if you don’t have anything else to do or that you want to do.”
“So you’re OK if you’re my Last Resort of entertainment then on Friday
night, sort of better than nothing?”
“Well, no,” I said with a frown.
“So then you do want me with you on Friday. Not going out with other people, even
friends.”
Taking a deep breath, I plunged in with both feet. “Yes, John. I love it when it’s Friday afternoon and I’m
finishing up my work and I look at the clock and know that, barring traffic or
forgetfulness,” I said, kissing him on the forehead at the word and unable to
resist running my hand across his butt, “you’ll be walking through my door in a
couple of hours. And we’ll go into the
bedroom and we’ll make love because we’re so happy to be together again and
then we’ll have dinner and hang out.
It’s a perfect Friday to me and I’d miss that if you weren’t there.”
He laughed, laying his head back down. “See, that wasn’t so hard to
say, now was it?”
Instinct took over and before I had thought about it, before I thought
what it’d mean to him or why, I swatted his butt and said, “You’re a Brat.”
Laughing and squirming under my hand, he rolled over so that his back
was to me and there was a distance between us.
“Oh no you don’t,” I said, acting without thinking and letting my
emotions blindly rule my actions, rolling after him and tugging him back so
that we were once again spooned up together.
Even through the material of our shorts, I could feel him pressing up
against my cock and it took all of my will power not to pull them down and push
my way inside. The swat, the words, the
possessive chase all combined into a scary, familiar rush of feelings and
desires.
“Eric,” he said, his voice rough as he moved against me.
“Go to sleep,” I said ordered firmly, clamping a tight lid on my
emotions. “You need your rest.”
Giving a deep sigh, he shifted slightly and then was still. Five minutes later, he said in an even softer
voice, “I wish you’d tell me not to go to work tomorrow. It’s going to be another busy day.”
“Close your eyes, babe, and hush.
How will you feel better by Friday if you don’t sleep now? I can’t wait to see what you have planned for
us and in order to enjoy it, you have to be well,” I ordered with another kiss
even as I ignored his last comment. Even
as he fell asleep, my own mind raced ahead at full speed. Going over how it felt to hold him, how it
would have felt to spank him for being so stupid earlier and what he really
meant with his last comment, asking me to tell him what to do. Did he really
want me to or was it just something to say while he was tired, vulnerable,
basically asleep, and no real thought behind it? I guess it really didn’t matter too much what
he meant because it wasn’t something I could do for him. He was driven, knew his own work load and his
office culture and most importantly, he wasn’t Mine to control. He was mine only in the way I was his – to
love, to make love to, to have fun with.
I didn’t have nor did I want any additional power here. The fantasies I had about spanking him and
enforcing my rules on his actions, were just left overs from Terry and nothing
more. Terry would have deliberately
ignored my wishes, our agreed upon rules just so I’d spank him, to have gotten
a rise out of me and thus prove something to him. It was a game for him or at least it had
become one by the end and I refused to even contemplate playing again. Instead I was content to hold John and listen
to him sleep, my hand still tingling slightly from the swat and the memory.
******************************************
“So you’re OK with staying in here until I call you,” John asked in a
nervous voice, early Friday evening. “No
matter what you hear, you’re not going to come out, right?”
I crossed my arms and stared at him. “Well, if I hear a lot of breaking
glass or screams then I’m coming out.”
He rolled his eyes. “Short of that?”
I grinned. “Short of that, I’m very content to sit in here ... alone
... by myself.”
He laughed, “Hence the definition of Alone, Eric.” Kissing me on the lips quickly, he grinned
again and headed out of the bedroom door.
Sitting down on one of the chairs, I had just picked up my book when
the door opened again.
“I don’t think you should just read, you need to watch TV,” he said,
flipping it on. “The noise will be a
good distraction.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “Go
on John, I can’t wait and it’ll be perfect.”
“No, don’t say that. It won’t be
perfect and if you set it up that high, you’ll just be disappointed.”
Standing up, I went over to him and hugged him tight, kissing him on
the neck as I pulled him close. I
squeezed tighter as I felt his arms go around my waist. “It’ll be perfect for me. Perfection and perfect for us are two totally
different things. Anything you put this
much thought into, for us, will be wonderful.
No pressure, I promise.” I felt
him nod and kissed him again before releasing him. “Good, now go on and do your
thing. I’ll be right here.”
He gave me a quick smile and left the room again, closing the door
behind him.
Whatever he was doing, it was quiet.
I heard the front door open and close several times over the next
fifteen minutes, some noise coming from the kitchen which wasn’t surprising
since he had said he was going to take care of dinner, but that was it. The occasional unidentifiable noise that I
tried not to think too hard about, but mostly just house and street
noises.
“OK,” he said, opening the door thirty minutes later. Giving a small smile, he took my hand,
pulling me up from the chair.
I could tell he was nervous, excited but also worried. “I can’t wait.”
“But you’re not expecting too much, right? I mean, I haven’t built this up too much so
that you’ll be disappointed or anything.”
“John,” I said softly, kissing him gently. “I’ll be thrilled if it’s McDonald’s laid out
on my nice china.”
He laughed, blushing slightly, “Well, it’s a bit better than
that.” Taking my hand, he took a deep
breath and led me down the hall toward the darkened living room. Pausing for a moment, he took another deep breath
and pulled me into the room.
“Wow,” I said softly, my voice catching slightly in my throat and I
laughed out loud. “You did all this?
It’s amazing.”
Grinning at my reaction, he nodded.
The room was lit with candles, the shades drawn to block out any light
coming from the street lamps outside or passing cars and the loveseat, chairs
and couch had been pushed against one wall, leaving most of the floor
empty. My locally bought,
mass-produced-in-Taiwan rug was littered with large cushions, bed pillows in
bright red and gold coverings and in the center was a low table covered with
silver serving dishes. Candles were on
almost every flat surface, giving the room a warm, flickering, inviting
glow. The small CD in my bookcase played
some sort of soft instrumental music that I’d never heard before. The effect was of some private, decadent
pleasure chamber perfect for the two of us.
“Do you like it?” he asked softly.
“There’s this book I read a couple of years ago that talked about a
private magical room in a harem that the prince would go to with his favorite
slave once a month, during the full moon. It was just for them and after the
night was over, the room would disappear for another month. So they knew they had to make what they did
in that room special enough to carry them through the month when they couldn’t
be together.”
I smiled, “Are you going to leave me after tonight?”
“Well,” John said, “I took the room design as inspiration, but I
figured the rest could be left up to fiction.”
He smiled as I drew him close, kissing him as I ran my hands down his
back. “Oh and I figured the Wonderful
Sex aspect would be a keeper, too.”
“I think so,” I breathed out.
“Will the food keep or should we eat?”
Breaking away slightly, John took my hand. “Let’s eat.”
We sat down on cushions in front of the low table and he pulled off the
container covers to reveal a simple meal of Chinese food.
“It’s as close as I wanted to get to Persian that I knew we’d both
like,” he explained, ducking his head a bit.
“I know that China and Persia aren’t remotely close, but ...”
“It’s perfect,” I said sincerely, picking up a crab wonton, breaking it
in half and offering half to him.
His eyes met mine as he took the piece directly into his mouth,
capturing both the food and my fingers for a moment before slowly pulling
away. “Yum.”
Luckily, Chinese food heats up easily and John was smart, all the items
he picked were just as good at room temperature thirty minutes later as the few
bites we managed before I could no longer control myself and lunged at him
were.
He laughed as I pushed him back against the pillows, spreading his legs
wide and throwing his head back as I began to work my way up from his collar
bone, around his shirt buttons and to his mouth. “In the story, how does the sultan please the
slave?” I asked, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
“I think it’s up to the slave to please the sultan,” John said, taking
his hands from my waist and squirming enticingly under me as he undid his own
jeans and pushed them down to his knees where his legs could kick them free. He grinned as he then moved to my own jeans,
undoing them and pushing them down.
Grinning, I reluctantly pulled back and slid them the rest of the way
off, leaving me in just my boxers and own button down shirt. “Wow,” I said for the second time, getting my
first glimpse of the white silk pouch thong John was wearing.
“Even though I’m not a virgin,” he said with a grin as he wiggled his
hips a bit and brushed a hand across his hardening cock, “this is our first
time like this so I thought it was appropriate.”
“Yes, you are certainly a shy blushing virgin,” I said with a grin,
settling myself back down on him, stroking his cock slowly through the
material. I loved the expression on his
face and the feel of him rising in my hand.
He laughed again, rubbing his hands up under my shirt and lightly
scratching my back.
John had thought of everything and there was a small bottle of lube
within easy reach, tucked discreetly under one of the cushions. Coating my own cock, I was inside him a
minute later, the thong pushed out of the way as he spread his legs high and
wide to allow me total access. The
sensation of feeling him, just him without the barrier of latex was wonderful
and the deep primal knowledge that I was going to be coming inside him, marking
him, drove my thrusts harder and faster than usual. There was little gentleness, just a constant
thrusting in and out that caused him to arch beneath me, his hands digging in
to leave their own mark on me as I came deep inside him with a groan. Shuddering and breathless a moment later, I
felt him shivering and shaking slightly coming down from his own climax, as I
slowly pulled out to roll over.
“No, god, don’t go,” he groaned, panting as I slipped free from
him. “I can’t catch my breath, that was
too much.”
He was shaking as I rolled toward him, pulling him close against me,
face to face, before reaching behind and pulling a blanket over us both.
“God,” I said, my own breath coming out in short gasps. Forcing myself to stay awake, I looked at
him. He was pale and sweaty, but giving
me a shaky grin.
In the muted darkness under the thin blanket, he moved closer, hugging
me tightly, inches from my face. “You
came in me,” he said simply.
“Yes, I did.”
“I felt you come. I felt you
come inside me. I can still feel you inside
me. It’s different than when you came
before. I could feel you come then, but
more as a tremor, a movement. This was
different.” His voice was low and soft,
still shaking a little, but not upset, more the wonder and puzzlement at
experiencing something for the first time.
“It felt …” His voice trailed off
as he was lost in his own thoughts, remembering the feel.
Reaching down, I stroked his hair, holding him tightly against me, our
bodies pressed together. I didn’t think
he was upset or sad about the step we had just taken, I think it was more
slightly overwhelming and a step for him that took some time to process. With that in mind and the feel of him pressed
tightly against me, I drifted off.
“Eric,” John whispered in the darkness.
Waking up quickly, I stretched, still holding him close, and heard him
giggle near my ear. “What, babe?”
“I’m starving and I really have to pee.”
I laughed, the realities of life crashing back into the romance world,
and realized I was starving too. Pushing
back the blanket, I smiled again at the decorated room and all his effort. I reluctantly sat up, trying hard not to
stare at John laying sprawled on his back, contentedly looking up at me. He grinned and I grinned back, holding out a
hand to help him sit up. “You look like
you caught your breath.”
“For the moment only, I’m sure.”
He stood up on shaky legs, a blush rising as he caught my very frank and
admiring grin.
“You go,” I ordered, knowing that my shaking control couldn’t handle
seeing John kneeling or bending over anything right now. “I’ll make us a
plate.” Scooping spoonfuls of food onto
a single plate, I sat back down on one of the cushions. When he joined me a minute later, settling
down next to me, I grinned and begin to slowly feed us both, taking turns with
each bite.
We made love again an hour later, this time slow and easy strokes
inside him, kissing deeply, tongues echoing my thrusts, his legs wrapped around
my waist to hold me close and control my pace.
The frenzied pace of last time was replaced with a deep contentment of
knowing each other’s moves and welcoming the familiarity. When I came again for the second time, John’s
cum already cooling on our stomachs and sticking us together, I stayed deep
inside of him. Resting on my elbows, his
legs still around me, we continued to kiss and pet, laughing and murmuring
nothings to each other for a long time, unwilling to break the connection.
“I wish I could sweep you off your feet and carry you into the
bedroom,” I said wistfully as I finally stood up, helping him off the
floor.
He laughed, looking around at the spent candles, disarrayed cushions
and empty plates. “That’s OK. I prefer you in your bed with me, not having
to call 911 after you throw your back out permanently.”
“Do I get credit for the thought?”
“You get more than credit for the thought,” he said, leaning in and
kissing me again. “You get me.”
Hugging him tightly, hands instinctively going to his butt to stroke
and knead it, I answered softly, “Then I definitely won.” I sighed even as I felt myself wanting to stir
again and pulled back. “Why don’t you go
take a shower? I’m scared if we keep this up, we’ll both die. I’ll pick up some and then join you.”
“But it was my idea,” he protested, “I should clean up. You take a shower first.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m just going to rinse the dishes. We’ll clean up in the morning together.” Then, without thinking about it, I said, “Go
on Brat, shower, bed and I’ll join you there.”
He grinned, kissed me again and started toward the bathroom.
It hit me what I had called him a moment later and I wanted to call
out, take it back, explain to him that I didn’t think he was a Brat, didn’t
want a Brat and that it was obviously temporary brain damage from too much sex. But I didn’t.
Stretching against the cool sheets, I was surprised not to find John
within reach. I woke up more fully and
glanced around. Through the gray
darkness, I caught his shape silhouetted against the window. He had opened the blinds just enough to look
out. I was instantly more awake and on
guard. “What’s wrong? Did you hear something?” The neighborhood was good, but we were still
close to major streets and it wasn’t impossible to think of someone prowling
around in the back yard looking for an easy target or just shelter from the
chilly night.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, turning from the window and padding back
to bed. “It’s nothing, I was just
looking out the window. No problems or
anything.”
His voice was low as he laid back down, rolling onto his side away from
me. I reached out, not really concerned,
more out of habit and immediately felt his chilled skin. “Hey, you’re cold. Come here, how long were you up?”
“I don’t know, I was just up thinking.”
Rubbing his back, I moved my legs a bit so that mine were partially
covering his to share some of my body heat.
“Talk to me, John. What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
I gave a short laugh. “So then,
something about us or just me? Something
about tonight?”
Sighing, he rolled over, jostling my legs and looked at me. “Not really about us or you or tonight.”
I smiled at him in the darkness, bringing my hand up as I inched closer
to him and rested it on his hip. He was
wearing boxers, I belatedly realized, wondering when he had put them on and if
they were a form of protection from me or just the chill in the air. “But …”
“I just suddenly feel very gay,” he blurted out, eyes dropping.
I knew him well enough at this point to stay quiet. The first blurted out admission of something
big was rarely a single event and when no condemnation came spewing forth from
me, the rest of his admission soon followed.
I also knew I needed to remain still, face neutral or slightly
encouraging and a single wrong move would shut him down as his red internal
abort button was pressed.
“Sex before was always sort of distant,” he said a moment later,
deciding it was at least somewhat safe.
“There was a layer there, and I don’t mean just physically. The physical part I don’t mind. I mean, that’s part of it, but not the AIDS
part …” His voice trailed off and he
briefly glanced up at my face before again studying my chest.
Suddenly struck by how young he looked and how inexperienced he was, I
felt my protective nature flare to life.
I leaned over and gently kissed him, hand rubbing down his leg. “So you’re not worried about me giving you
anything, but the actual barebacking bothered you?”
“Yeah.”
“What about it bothered you? It
made you feel gay?”
He nodded again in the darkness and I felt him take a deep breath, his
body shifting under mine. “It was real
all of a sudden. When you, or before
you, had a condom on, I think part of me blocked out exactly what was going on. I mean, I knew what was going on, but I think
part of me could forget. I could just
concentrate on how good it felt. On the
signals and charges I was getting, what it felt to be so full and heavy and
stretched and to know that you were fucking me and making me feel that way.”
Hearing his voice catch, I made myself lay still as he dropped his voice
to a whisper, letting me in on a deep secret.
“But when you came inside of me, when I felt you come inside of me,
there was no denying what we were doing.
I was on my back, legs wrapped around another man, spreading them as
wide as possible, while another guy pushed his cock in and out of my butt. And I loved it, I loved how it felt to feel
another guy’s cock, his actual penis, going inside of me like he would a
woman. I loved how it felt to be used
like that, to get pleasure from that and there was no denying it was a cock
because you came inside of me. There was
no little part of my brain that told myself it was a toy or some unknown
pleasure object. I was being fucked up
the ass by another guy and breathless from wanting and loving it so much and
craving that you do it again.”
The admission seemed to take everything from him and I couldn’t help
but move closer even as part of me questioned if the advancement was
welcomed. “And that made you feel gay?”
I asked softly, holding him close. I felt
him nod against my chest and I squeezed him tightly. “Is that a bad feeling?”
Pulling back slightly, he meet my gaze. “No, not at all. I know that, I know I’m gay and I’m honestly
sort of glad about it.” He laughed for
the first time and smiled, “Really.”
I laughed too, kissing him again.
“Good.”
“But I’m also sort of sad that I don’t feel guilty about it and I feel
embarrassed that I don’t feel guilty about it.
Part of me thinks I should be mortified about it, but I’m not and I
can’t pretend I am.” He sighed, “I used to be really, really good at lying
and pretending, but I’m getting worse at it the longer I’m in Atlanta.” Pausing again, he smiled, “I think that’s a
good thing, don’t you?”
“I think it’s a very good thing,” I agreed. I wasn’t totally convinced that the battle
was fought and won this easily, but he seemed happier. Maybe spilling his secret, giving voice to
it and not allowing it to continue to exist only in the darkness of his head,
had brought it into the light where it could be studied and beaten.
Shifting closer to me, he stroked my cock. Unlike him, I was naked and instantly
responded to his touch. While I did my
best to give back as good as he was giving me, the wonderful combined sensation
of his hand on me and his tongue invading my mouth, soon stopped my
half-hearted attempts at a mutual jerk off.
Instead, I held him tight, kneading his butt with one hand, while the
other stroked his hair, holding him in place and not letting him go.
*************************************
I don’t remember who brought it up first and who said yes, but the
Sunday before Thanksgiving found us over at John’s packing a suitcase for him
to bring back to my house through the following Monday. He’d go to work as normal on Monday morning
from my place, but since it was a holiday week, he was only working two
days. It seemed silly for him to spend
Monday night alone, just to come back to my place Tuesday after work to start
his vacation. He was taking off
Wednesday from work and the office was closed, of course, Thursday and
Friday.
“What’s the dress at Richard’s”? he asked from his bedroom.
Luckily, my first answer – as little as possible – stayed firmly in my
head when I answered him back. “I’m
wearing slacks and a nice pull over sweater.
Nothing too dressy, but maybe business casual?”
“What color is your sweater?”
I groaned in frustration as I got up and walked into the bedroom. “I don’t know, John. Probably the navy blue one and the tan
slacks. Why?”
He didn’t turn around as he continued to study his well-stocked
closet. “Because I don’t want to look
too matchy matchy, but I’d
like to put everything in my duffle bag and not bring a sports coat.” Shifting on the balls of his feet, he studied
a neatly stacked pile of sweaters.
“Don’t over think this, babe,” I said, walking in behind him and
kissing his back through his sweatshirt.
“No one is going to really care what you wear.”
“Cream,” he said a second later, pulling out a cream sweater with black
flecks in it. “And they will care. People always care and judge and form instant
impressions. I want to make sure I make
you proud to be taking me with you.
Richard cares, I’m sure, what I wear to his Thanksgiving dinner.”
Taking the sweater from his outstretched hand, I turned and quickly
tossed it on the bed. “Richard likes
you, he liked you when you guys met the first time and you were just in
jeans.” I didn’t add that later that
night Richard told me exactly how much he liked John in his jeans. He had also told me, jokingly---mostly---that
if I wasn’t interested in keeping him in line, he would gladly volunteer for
the job.
The rest of his clothes were easy and he finished packing ten minutes
later without another worry, or at least another verbalized one.
As I carried the bag outside, I saw him pause in his living room for a
moment, taking several deep breaths.
I stopped, glancing back into the living room. “John?”
“This is going to be the longest we’ve ever been together,” he said
slowly. “Do you think it’ll be OK? I hope we’re not making a mistake. Maybe I really should wait and just come over
Wednesday, maybe in time for lunch?”
Fully understanding and sharing the fear, I nodded. “I know what you’re saying and I
understand. It’s a big step, but I do,
without a doubt, 100%, know that it will be OK.
It’s not a mistake.” I didn’t
move any closer as I continued, “You can wait until Wednesday, or Tuesday
night, but I know I’m looking forward to seeing you every morning for the next
week, kissing you good night and spending time together.” I smiled, swinging the bag a bit. “Come on
John, you’re going to work tomorrow and Tuesday. We’ll be busy cooking on Wednesday and I’ve
got work to do on my January strips. I
promise, we won’t be staring at each other all week.”
He watched me casually swing his bag for another moment before nodding,
“And it’s good practice, I guess.” Then,
grinning as he came forward he added, “How can I convince you to sweep me away
in the dead of winter to some decadent tropical island for the week if we
haven’t even practiced here?”
I laughed, hitting him gently with the bag as he came out and locked
his door. “Poor, struggling cartoonist
…. whiz money manager guy, who do you think is really going to be taking who to
a tropical island?”
Snorting, he shook his head. “I
don’t think being run in over a hundred papers and magazines counts as
struggling any more, Eric.”
“Yes, but only a few have national audiences,” I countered. As I laughed at his rolling eyes and followed
him down the stairs, half listening to him talk about what we – meaning He –
were going to cook on Wednesday to bring to Richard’s Thanksgiving dinner, I
pushed back my own fears. I hadn’t been
lying or just offering pat words of understanding when I told John that I understood. I did fully understand maybe even more than
he did. When Terry had moved in with me,
it was with the clear understanding of rules, expectations and what each
other’s role in the relationship was.
I’m not sure where that need came from.
My parents for all I knew had a very standard relationship and had
gotten along wonderfully. They still
held hands and I pictured them holding hands even as they died together. But for me, the need to be in a relationship
with clear rules and expectations and order, for someone to be in control,
usually me, had made itself known early in my dating life. Maybe it was the classical stories I read of
gallant knights and the rules of courtly love or the old-fashioned appeal of
the head of the household bringing order to his small piece of land and circle
of influence. He couldn’t control the
outside world, but he could make the inside world – where he and his loved ones
lived – orderly, respectful and loving.
Or maybe it was just my personality that believed that relationships
simply worked better when everyone knew their place; there was no struggle for
power and quick, efficient ways to correct behavior that didn’t belong. As much as I didn’t want that relationship
with John, the idea of him moving in even for a week without that structure
worried me.
“Hey,” John said, touching my arm and dragging me out of my
thoughts. “You OK?”
Mentally shaking my head, I smiled and nodded, “Yeah, sorry. Were you saying something?”
He grinned, “About a hundred somethings until
I noticed that you weren’t saying anything.”
Learning over, I kissed him. “Sorry babe. Just lost in thought. What were you saying?”
Giving a dramatic sigh, he shook his head, even as he got into my
car. He crossed his arms as I slid in.
“You think a little kiss in the parking lot can get me to forgive you for
ignoring me the last three minutes?”
I grinned, glancing around and then, deliberately to the backseat and
giving John a quick once over. “Well, I
guess I could fuck you in the backseat to make it up to you. I don’t think there’s anyone around and I’m
sure I can be quick enough. You could
kneel on the seat and maybe stick your head out the window and I …” I yelped and ducked as he punched my shoulder
playfully, but with enough force to remind me that my lover was in very good
shape. Laughing, I rubbed my arm. “That
hurt.”
He grinned. “Good. Maybe next
time you’ll pay attention to me when I’m talking.”
“Abuser.”
“Ignorer.”
Laughing and shaking my head, I pulled out of the spot. “Ignorer?
Is that even a word?”
John shrugged, settling back in the seat with a contented sigh as the
car pulled out of his complex, all trace of worry and doubt that was on his
face in the apartment disappearing. “I
don’t know, but it should be. It’s a
very needed word.” Glancing at me, he
grinned again, “You know what else is needed?”
“World peace?”
“Well, that too, but I was really thinking of cake. We’re going to be starting a holiday soon, a
new adventure and phase of our relationship, what better way to celebrate than
with cake?”
“Sex is good too,” I countered with a grin. The playful, easy banter we had together
helped erase my own fears about the upcoming week. We didn’t need rules and structure or for
anyone to be in charge. We could easily talk anything out together, laugh about
it and reach a mutual compromise through heartfelt discussion and sharing of
feelings, expectations and wants. I made
a face, admitting that it sounded suspiciously like an Oprah relationship.
“You’re not paying attention again,” John said, once again breaking
through my thoughts. He grinned and
shook his head. “As soon as you get me into your bed even for a short time
long-term, you start to take me for granted.”
I could hear the teasing in his voice, but also wanted to make
sure. As I pulled the car to a stop at a
red light, I leaned over and gently grasped his chin. Turning his head slightly, I kissed him
deeply, tongue briefly plunging inside in a clear act of dominance. “Even if I don’t hear every word that comes
from these lips, you’re on my mind constantly babe.” My voice was barely a whisper as I broke free
from the kiss for a moment before tasting him again. With smug ease, I pulled back just as the
light turned to green and the cars in front of mine began to move, deliberately
not looking at him or smiling.
Giving one of his embarrassed and very unmanly giggles, he said,
“You’re forgiven. Maybe we can get cake
tonight; I think your idea of a celebration sounds better.”
***************************
I heard the quick intake of breath and ignored it as I made a slow and
gentle turn onto the driveway of Richard’s complex. John had been wincing, gasping and muttering
barely under his breath about my skills since I pulled out of the drive and
instantly hit a pothole. In the trunk
were two pies in individual boxes, cushioned by newspaper and further cushioned
by blankets, but I was sure he was convinced they would be nothing but crumbs
and pieces of apple by the time we made the fifteen minute drive to the
condo. Crow flies, Richard’s place was
only two to three miles from my place, but the various side streets, traffic
lights and simple road traffic even on Thanksgiving afternoon typically made it
a fifteen minute drive.
The gods decided to reward my patience, or maybe save what was left of
John’s sanity, and there was a spot near the front. “Seriously, John …” I said with a hint of
impatience creeping into my voice as I heard him do a quick intake of breath as
the car did a tight turn into the space.
“Sorry,” he said, “This is just
important and I don’t want it screwed up because you seem intent to hit every
pothole.”
Putting a hand on his arm, I stopped him as he was reaching to undo his
seat belt. “No,” I said, forcing myself
to be calm. “Sit here for a minute with
me and let’s talk.” I could tell he was
nervous and very anxious. “What’s going
on? I don’t want to go if you’re not
going to enjoy yourself and be miserable the whole time.”
He gave me a horrified expression.
“We’re here, we’ve RSVP’ed, they’re expecting
us. There’s no way we can back out now,
I couldn’t do that to you – make you miss something just because of me. Don’t be stupid, I’ll be fine.”
“Hey,” I said, my annoyance bubbling to the surface, “I don’t
appreciate that tone. I’d like to talk
about why you’re so worried. Am I giving
you the impression that you’re somehow on stage here? That you’re expected to perform or have any
expectations to live up to?”
Glancing away and resolutely staring out the window at the bare trees,
he mutely shook his head.
“Answer me, John.” I didn’t care
at that point what my voice sounded like and if the last person to hear it had
been Terry before I spanked him. If
there was a problem with what I was doing, I had a right to know. If John was feeling something because of some
internal battle, the only way that we’d be able to get past it was for him to
vocalize it. Otherwise, it would fester
between us and that was something I felt, deep down, I couldn’t allow.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
The hopelessness of his voice made me instinctively reach out toward
him and stroke his hair as his age and inexperience seemed to shrink him. “Try me, babe. I bet I understand a lot more than you’re
giving me credit for,” I smiled, resting
my hand on his neck and shaking it gently. “I’m fairly smart you know. I beat you at Jeopardy all the time.” That got the laugh I was hoping for and a
quick smile.
“You wish, Eric.” He sighed
again, leaning into my hand, eyes closed.
“This has to be perfect. The pies
have to be perfect. Everyone has to like
them…”
“You have to be perfect?” I supplied when his voice trailed off.
He nodded, “You have to be proud to have taken me, to introduce me to
your friends. I have to make sure that
I’m as good as you possibly could want and not embarrass you or make you wish
that I was better. I know I’m not the
best you could do, but I swear I’ll try never to disappoint you.”
I was actually stunned into silence for a moment at his words and the
weight behind them. Wanting nothing more
than to drive us back home and love him, find some way to get it through to him
how much I loved him. Knowing though
that a soft approach wasn’t the way to get through to him, he wouldn’t respect
it or believe me, if I just said that to him.
Instead I once again reached inside and pulled out my Firm Voice. “Yes or No, John, have I ever said to you
that you need to be perfect for me?”
“Eric...”
“No,” I said, cutting him off.
“Yes or No – perfect?”
Without saying anything or meeting my eyes, he shook his head.
“Have I ever seemed ashamed to introduce you to my friends? Considering you’ve meet Richard already, we
both know Mike and Karl already and have done things with them.” I laughed,
lightening the mood, “Considering what Richard told you last month when he
first invited us to this.”
John laughed, “You mean when he told me that I was welcome to come and he’d be sure to introduce me to
guys much better than you once I wised up and dropped you?”
I bumped him on the back of the head. “Yes and thank you so much for
remembering that vote of confidence so perfectly.” I shook my head. “Seriously, John. I don’t expect perfection and neither does
anyone else up there. They’re all a
bunch of screw ups, just like me. The
day, the holiday, won’t be ruined if something happens and…” I paused, letting my words sink in, “And,
there’s no way I’d be ashamed of you or anything less than proud for you to
walk in with me and allow me to introduce you as my boyfriend.”
He gave that embarrassed, blushing giggle that I loved and
grinned, “Boyfriend?”
I rolled my eyes. “Is Lover better?”
“Boy toy?”
Getting out of the car, giving an exaggerated sigh, I said, “Come on
then boy toy, we have two delicious pies to turn in as payment for our host’s
generosity.” I head him laugh again as
the car shifted as he got out and joined me at the trunk.
Bumping into me, he rested his head briefly on my shoulder. “Thanks
Eric. I’ll love being your Boyfriend.”
“You’re welcome, Brat.” I said
simply, the word once again slipping out as I picked up the first pie and
handed it to him.
Carefully following him, balancing the pie in one hand as I opened the
door, I silently prayed that it would be as good as I said in the car. There was really no reason for it not to be,
everyone was friendly, it was the holidays and Richard was an excellent
host. In the end, it was better than I
could have wished for. John easily
mingled and got into an animated conversation with Jean and her husband Bill
over the best Bond movies and how they compared to the best Bond books. And everyone had seamlessly found comfortable
spots to eat at the buffet style dinner.
Richard had set up multiple tables and chairs and with the sun shining
all day, the balcony was warm enough to enjoy the view of the sunset with a
glass of wine before polishing off all but two pieces of pie. I was secretly relieved that we would have
left overs. The pecan pie had taken some
work and was delicious – I was looking forward to my second piece once we got
home. The only puzzling part of the day
was watching John and Richard coming back from somewhere. They were both smiling and looked at ease,
but Richard caught my eye across the room and gave me a slow smile that ended
up twitching the corners of his mouth more than normal as if he suddenly caught
the cat after the cream.
“God, I’m full,” John said, leaning back against the wall of the
elevator with a sigh. “I feel like that
commercial ‘I can’t believe I ate the whole thing’ guy.”
Glancing over at him, I smiled, “You looked like you were having a good
time.”
He moved over, pulling me into a hug as he rested his head on my
shoulder with a sigh. “Thank you. I had a wonderful time. It’s the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in while
and it wasn’t just the food.”
“I’m glad, babe,” I said softly, turning my face and getting a kiss
somewhere on his face as the doors opened in the lobby and we made our way to
the car. “It’s been my best one, too.” Sliding into the car, I started it up,
adjusting the vents so that the initial cold air from the heater was directed
away from both of us. “Did you have a chance to see the apartment?" I
asked. "It’s a great place, I told
Richard I’ve always been jealous.”
John nodded, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “Yeah, he gave me the grand tour and it’s very
nice. I was admiring some art collection
he had going down one wall – very abstract and interesting, black and white
line paintings. Do you know them?”
I knew exactly what paintings he was talking about. The simple and straight lines could be seen
as simple black and white lines on contrasting canvases or, if you were so
inclined, could be seen as three classic discipline poses. My favorite had been the one in the middle,
someone being disciplined bent over the knees of another person. I honestly didn’t see how anyone could look
at those and not instantly see what they were.
“No, I don’t think so. Are they
new? I haven’t been past the kitchen,
living room or bathroom in probably a year.”
“I don’t know, I didn’t think to ask and Richard didn’t say,” John said
evenly.
Falling silent, I struggled to decide if I heard a tone in his voice,
if the pictures had been a lead in, if there was a clue that I was supposed to
be picking up on. As I pulled into my driveway,
I decided, again, that if there was, I didn’t care. Instead, I helped him from the car, carried
the pie inside and went into my bedroom to shower and change into something
more comfortable.
John was sitting on the bed in his boxers, clothes in a crumbled heap
on the floor next to his feet when I came back.
“Are you OK? You seem sort of
quiet all of a sudden?”
“Oh yeah,” I said, leaning down and kissing him without thinking about
it, “Just tired I think ... and full.
It’s been a long day.” Glancing
at the clock, I saw that it was almost nine.
“I was going to watch TV a bit, are you coming?”
He shook his head. “I’m tired too and sort of over noise right
now. I think showering and reading in
bed sound like a very good idea.”
Instantly feeling as if I were being a bad host, I said, “I can stay in
here with you then.”
Laughing, John stood up. “Go watch TV, honey. I think we can manage to go to bed at
different times without it being the crushing blow that ends this. Besides, I’ll probably still be up when you
get through.”
I knew he was right and really, in the week that he had been staying
over, we had been apart without any problems.
He’d read while I worked or he’d be cooking and I’d be on the computer
not paying him any attention. It’s what
normal couples did and that’s what we were rapidly turning into – a normal,
steady couple. John was right and he
was still awake when I came back to the bedroom an hour later. Laying on his side, book held in the pool of
light from the lamp, he glanced up and smiled when I came padding in. Slipping off my robe, I slid under the sheets
and curled up behind him, kissing him on the neck.
Giggling, he twisted away. “Your hands are cold, Eric. You better not be planning on touching me
anywhere with them.”
“Like here?” I asked innocently, touching his neck as he jumped and
laughed. “Or maybe ...” I slid my hands up underneath the plaid
nightshirt he insisted on wearing. I
remember laughing when he pulled it out, insisting that he didn’t need it and
him insisting that it was cold and when he tossed and turned at night, his arms
came out from under the covers. Luckily,
maybe in the tradition of great Scottish plaid, he wore nothing underneath and
the teasing thrill of lifting material, pushing it out of the way to expose him
had turned into one of my favorite games.
My fingers brushed his butt, cupping one cheek gently while I ran my
thumb across the center crease. “Is that
OK?”
Shifting a bit, raising his top leg, he gave a contented sigh. “Your hands are still cold, but I think
that’s OK.” He wiggled his butt as if to
test it before nodding again. “Yes, I
think that’s definitely OK.”
“How about this?” Shifting a bit
so that one of my knees was between his legs, I spread them apart a bit as I
moved more on top of him, my hand staying between us, curving into the crease.
“Oh yeah, I really like that,” he said, laughing, wiggling again and
brushing up against me. Pushing his book
to the floor, he stretched out further, spreading his legs wider, giving me
more access. “Anything else,
honey?”
I laughed at the sweet innocence of his voice and kissed the back of
his neck while I rolled further onto him, stretching and grabbing the lube from
the night stand. “No, I think that’s
just about perfect.” A moment later, my
own boxers were kicked off as I coated my cock with the lube. John had moved so he was again laying on his
side, giving me easy access as I laid back down with him. “I was so proud to be with you tonight,” I
whispered, kissing his back as my hand dipped between us. “I got hard watching you walk between the
couch and the kitchen and when you bent over to pick up that napkin ...” I laughed, kissing him again, parting his
cheeks and trailing a finger between them.
Laughing with me, he shifted under my touch and sighed as a finger
slipped inside. “Thank god your touch is
better than your words,” he said quickly, squirming as I slowly moved in and
out, teasing him and making sure he was hard and wanting me.
“Then maybe I should stop?” I
pulled out my finger, wiping it quickly on a small towel.
Grinding up against me for a second before rolling a bit to further
expose himself, John laughed, “No, don’t stop Eric. Just a little less talk and a lot more
action.” He wiggled again, “Come on, big
boy, show …”
“You wish is my command,” I said, cutting him off as I pushed my way
half inside him, causing him to gasp as the head slipped past his muscles. The familiar sensation of tightness and
warmth, being surrounded by him was always exhilarating, hardening me further
and causing all thoughts to flee my brain with the blood. I wanted to sink all the way inside him,
spread him wide to accept every centimeter and then fill him as I came. I think that John felt the same way as he squirmed
and groaned deeply, hands reaching out to clench at me. Falling into my normal pattern, it was easy
to get lost in the feelings and sounds of him.
I could feel his hands on me, his legs twisting and spasming
against mine as I slid in and out, making love to him, fucking him and getting
lost with him. I felt him come and the
contraction of his own muscles held me deep inside just before I came too. In reality, it wasn’t the most mind blowing
sex we’d had. No dramatic dominance and
submission act, no cries of deep, rapturous pleasure, but still very, very
satisfying for us both as we each came, as we were both driven over the edge by
the other person and once again connected in a very primal way.
He sighed, snuggling close against me, voice drowsy. “Best Thanksgiving ever, Eric.”
Staying buried inside of him, unwilling to lose that connection, I
kissed his sweaty neck. “I love you.”
“Me too.”
Even as he drifted asleep, I
stayed awake and watched him, admiring his body. The feel of his muscles under my hands as I
held him steady beneath me, the feel of his strong hands holding on to me and
urging me to go deeper or faster or harder reminded me time and again what it
was that attracted me to other men. Women
were beautiful, elegant and put together, that interesting mix of softness and
curves and a more hidden strength. But
men, men like John, were beautiful in their strength and hardness in full
view. The feel of muscles straining
beneath the skin, the solidness of his weight curled up against me now thrilled
and excited. For me, there was nothing
as moving, both emotionally and physically, as watching John arch his back,
legs spread wide, accepting my cock inside, filling and stretching his most
private area as he gave himself over to me.
It touched every dominate impulse and thrilled me as making love to a
woman never did. We were equals and he
gifted his body to me.
*******************************
Logically, I know that December is as long any other month – actually
longer than many of them if I was remembering the rhyme correctly---but with
the rush of Christmas, or as John’s work called it, Winter Holiday, parties, my
own agent’s work party in New York and mutual friends’ parties, it seemed very
short. Shoved into the schedule was the
required gift shopping, gift shipping and decorating that the season called
for. We went to get my tree together the
first weekend of December and then John was gone for the rest of Saturday night
to attend his work party, leaving me to finish pulling out boxes filled with
Christmas decorations. Even though the
extended time at Thanksgiving had gone well, John was still staying at his
place Monday through Thursday. He hadn’t
brought up his lease again directly, but had said very casually one evening in
bed that firming it up was on his To Do list the week after the New Year. I hadn’t pushed or wanted to stretch his
nerves any more than they already seemed stretched.
He yawned, stretching against me in bed, hand going around my hands
that were holding him tight. “Morning,”
he whispered.
“God, already?” The light was
coming in bright this Saturday morning and I knew we should get up. It was just the 20th, but for us, it was
Christmas morning. John was going to
leave early Monday to drive to Charleston, spend the holiday with his
family. Because of that, we were doing
our own Christmas today so we’d have time to cook a good dinner and open
presents tonight before he went back to his house after lunch on Sunday to
finish packing. To spend as much time
together as possible, he had even brought over his family’s unwrapped gifts so
we could do them together. Or, really,
so I could do it and he could hand me tape pieces. His idea of wrapping was shoving it into a
bag and crushing tissue paper on top.
“Your mother is going to know you’re with someone,” I said as I
finished making the final crease to the paper and taped it shut last night
after dinner. “There’s no way she’s
going to believe you did this.”
He laughed, “Trust me, she knows better than to ask questions,
especially in front of my father. If
anything, maybe she’ll think I’ve finally found some nice girl to settle down
with.”
I glanced up at him. “Do they really think that’s going to happen?”
Shrugging, he didn’t look at me, instead concentrated on riffling
through the bag of bows he had bought to find one that matched. “Hope springs eternal, maybe. Who knows.”
“Do you think that’s going to happen?”
I knew it was a silly question, especially at this stage of the game,
but it was suddenly on my lips and my brain wasn’t fast enough to prevent it
from coming out.
He smiled, looking up and shook his head, “Not a chance in hell.”
Reluctantly pulling away from him and getting out of bed, I padded into
the kitchen, stopping in front of the Christmas tree to admire our handiwork
and the tempting, brightly colored presents underneath.
“Back away from the presents,” John yelled from bed. “No touching until tonight, those are the
rules!”
“I wasn’t doing anything!” I yelled back. “I was just looking.”
He laughed and I could hear the bed creak slightly as he got up. “Make sure you’re looking just with your
eyes, not your hands.” Coming into the
door way, he stared at me down the hall and smiled. “Of course, if you’re just itching to handle
something …”
The offer was tempting, very tempting and I smiled. “You’re horrible, you know that right?”
“Gee, last night you said I was great.”
Laughing, he disappeared back into the bedroom.
“And this morning,” I added even as I continued back into the kitchen
to get breakfast started. As much as the
bed and John were calling me back, there were errands to run, a last minute
gift to be picked up, wrapped and overnighted to a
friend in Iowa and grocery shopping for our dinner tonight. After much discussion, we had settled on
stuffed pork tenderloin as the main dish.
It wasn’t too much for just the two of us, would give me easy leftovers
next week when I was by myself and something that, even though we liked it, didn’t
have that often. John was responsible
for the dressing/stuffing, depending on which of us was speaking, the mashed
potatoes and dark chocolate torte for dessert.
I was responsible for opening the can of crescent rolls, microwaving the
frozen carrots, washing the potatoes and serving as general kitchen help.
John padded into the kitchen a moment later, his robe open over the
flannel nightshirt, and yawned. “It’s
early.”
“It’s almost nine,” I said, leaning over the counter and kissing him as
I pushed a glass of juice in his direction.
He laughed, “Is that agreeing or disagreeing?” Taking a sip of juice, he smiled
sweetly. “Sure you don’t want to go back
to bed?”
Walking around the counter to go get dressed before my will power ran
out completely, I kissed him again, briefly resting my hand on his cock with a
sigh. “You know I want to, but we
can’t.”
“Oh well, I’m used to rejection, but you’ll miss me tomorrow.” Reaching out, he caught my hand as I started
to pull it away. “You will, right? You’ll miss me? You’d miss me if I wasn’t here?”
There was a strange note in his voice that made my brow crease in brief
puzzlement. “Of course, but that’s why
you’re coming back as soon as possible.
I’m going to miss you terribly.”
I kissed him, squeezing his hand. “Every part of you will be missed.”
“So you mean it when you say you love me?” he asked quietly but
deliberately, his eyes searching my face as if looking for a small twitch or
flicker that would signal a lie or doubt.
“I love you,” I said firmly, my eyes locked on his without blinking.
Smiling, he leaned over and kissed me quickly. “Good.”
And the moment was past. He took
a sip of juice, glanced out the window at the bare trees, casually saying, “I
wonder how cold it is outside.”
The sudden shift in mood didn’t surprise me. Over the last few weeks, John had been
slightly withdrawn at times, a contemplative mood that would suddenly lift,
sexual aggression that would suddenly shift into pure submission once we got
going. Several times I had woken up to
him not being in the bed and instead standing by the window looking out, deep
in thought. I had asked if there was
something we needed to talk about, something I could help with, but each time
he simply kissed me and told me that it was all fine. The holidays are strange times for many
people, old memories – both good and bad – invade the present day and I knew he
was very conflicted on going back to Charleston for the week.
“I think we actually managed to beat the crowds,” John said two hours
later as we emerged from the mall. The
road in front was crowded, but the store had been quick with plenty of
help. “I’m starving and need food now
before we go home. But if you feed me,
I’ll take your gift to the post office after you wrap it this afternoon.”
“That sounds like the best deal I’ve heard in awhile – what’s the
catch?” I asked with a laugh. “Where do
I have to take you for lunch?”
“No catch, just being nice,” he said with a smile. “Can’t I be nice?” Wiggling his eyebrows, his grin
broadened. “But if you really want to
treat me, we can go get Mexican.”
I had no problem with Mexican, but I knew what he was really
saying. There were several places – good
places – near my house, up and down Peachtree and its easy side streets. But John loved a little family place a good
25 minutes away, through traffic, multiple traffic lights and no direct route
and since we rarely went, it was a treat.
Or, in this case, a very good bribe.
“How about we go up to El Casa?”
He laughed, hands flying to his mouth in mock surprise. “What a wonderful idea, Eric! You’re so
smart.”
“And handsome,” I prompted, turning in the direction of the
interstate. “I’m sure you’re going to
want cheese dip, too. Right?”
“Standing in line at the post office, bowl – not a cup but a bowl – of
hot gooey delicious cheese dip …” He
moved his hands back and forth as if weighing them, “I think that only
fair.” Settling back on the seat, he
reached over and took my hand, squeezing it briefly. “Thanks Eric.
I know I can always count on you to understand me and get where I’m
coming from.”
Squeezing it back, I smiled, “Of course, babe. I think I’m getting to know you as well as
you know yourself.”
“I think so too.” Then, mood
shifting again, he added with a laugh, “So you should also know that if you intend
to get more than a couple of bites of cheese, you should order your own.”
Lunch was, as always, excellent and worth the drive and we got home
around two. There was plenty of time
before dinner to tumble into bed again, laughing and shedding clothes
quickly.
Settling down underneath my arms, John smiled, slowly and tauntingly
spreading his legs. His hand rested on
his cock as he asked, “See anything you like?”
“Lots,” I answered, giving him my best wolfish grin. Bending my head, I nosed his hand away and
took him in my mouth. The memory of
doing that for him months ago on our first couple of dates came rushing back as
I licked, sucked and nibbled my way up and down the shaft. My thumb began to tease his opening and the
sensitive area now exposed under his balls.
Chuckling as he groaned and squirmed on the bed, I was rewarded by his
pleas to stop and to release him. “I
don’t think so,” I said, lifting my head slightly to speak and also to check
that he wasn’t serious. Judging by the
expression on his face, I knew I’d be in trouble if I did, in fact, stop.
“God Eric,” he moaned again, louder as his squirming and twisting
increased, reaching for my head and briefly grasping at my hair, tugging it
slightly as he struggled for control.
“Stop, please.”
My only response was to increase my attention and push a finger deep
inside of him, thumb still pressing on the outside. “You’re mine,” I said softly, stroking and
playing with every nerve center of his body.
Unlike the first time, I smiled as he came quickly, with minimal warning
into my mouth. It still wasn’t my
favorite, but there was no way I would ever tell him that. Slowly releasing him from my mouth, I discreetly
spit into a towel before wiping my hand.
Shifting up so that I was face to face with him, I grinned, “Are you sure you want me to stop?”
Shifting slightly and giving me a very sated smile, he lifted his legs
and wrapped them around my waist, exposing himself fully. “Your turn,” he said with a smile. He closed his eyes as I bent down to kiss
him, mouth open and allowed himself to be fully possessed by my cock, tongue
and hands.
Emerging from the bedroom two hours later, feeling very much in love
and well sated, I began to pull out the items we would need for our Christmas
feast.
“Are you really sure you want to go through this much work,” I asked
for probably the third time that afternoon as I washed another pot. “We got pizza coupons in the mail I think
yesterday.”
“Very sure,” John said confidently, “we’re almost done anyway. And this is a big night for us. It’s our first Christmas and we’re going to
open gifts. We’re not doing pizza, even
from the pick-up place.”
I watched him move effortlessly through the kitchen area, stirring and
measuring the ingredients for the torte.
The pork was sitting on the counter, stuffed and tied, waiting for the
oven to reach the correct temperature.
It had been fun working in the kitchen and my complaints really were
more teasing than any actual issue with what we were doing. “So,” I said as I shut off the water and
dried the pan with a towel, “want to guess what’s in your presents?” There were four under the tree with John’s
name on them, two real gifts and the other two light-hearted little things that
I knew he wanted. We hadn’t really
talked about any ground rules for gift-giving, but he had carried in three
gifts of his own for me so I was confident we were on similar wave
lengths.
“Nope,” he said, glancing back at me with an evil smile. “I’m good waiting until tonight.”
“Can I guess mine then?” I asked.
I had always loved Christmas and had been having fun teasing John for
the last few days about shaking presents and trying to figure out what was in
each one.
“No,” he said firmly. “It’ll
ruin the surprise.” Then, swiftly
changing the subject, he asked, “What did you end up getting your aunt and
Richard?”
Allowing the subject to be changed and not wanting to tease him too
much, we moved into a different direction.
“Cake of the Month Club,” I said, “for Richard and Flowers of The Month
Club for Aunt Hilda." Unable to
resist, I said, “Want to guess what Of The Month Club I got for you?”
He laughed, “Lube?”
“Oh! Close and I did look at that one,” I said laughing. “It was really a close toss up between Lube
and Dildo of the Month. I hope you’re
not disappointed – I think April’s selection is a Tulip-shaped one and October
is a series of pumpkins on a rod.”
John laughed, shaking his head as he turned around and stuck out his
tongue at me before turning back around and shaking his butt. “Can’t wait.”
The afternoon flew by and everything came out perfectly. Or, really, as perfectly as could be
expected. The butter for the croissants
didn’t get soft the first time and the additional time in the microwave turned
it into a puddle, but we ended up just dipping the bread into it and declaring
it a full success. John got quieter as
the meal went on, chatting happily, but more at my prompting than the back and
forth banter that we normally had.
After putting everything away and cleaning up, he settled himself
behind me, hugging me tightly and resting his head on my shoulder. “You love me, right? You’re happy and everything that we’re
together?”
Pulling his hands up a bit, I kissed them, holding them and him close
to my body as I rocked us gently. “I
love you very much, John. And, if you
want me to, I’ll say it every day and twice on Sundays. You know I want you to not renew your lease
in February, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said simply before falling silent again.
Content to hold him and rock in the kitchen, I allowed the silence to
settle and just listened to the faint noises from the house, the heating system
kicking on in the cool night air and the occasional car passing by.
I’m not sure how long we stood there before I felt him take a deep
breath, kiss my shoulder and say, “Let’s open presents.” Letting go of me, he sighed and smiled as I
turned around.
I laughed, “It’s about time.
I’ve wanted to do that since you brought them in yesterday. I can’t wait!” Then, seeing the familiar look on his face,
quickly added, “Not that I have any expectations of what they are and I'm not
expecting anything in particular. I
promise I’ll be thrilled with whatever you give me.”
He smiled slightly, but I could see it didn’t reach his eyes. “Good, no expectations.”
Taking his hand, I walked us into the living room and sat him down on
the sofa in front of the tree. The table
light was on and the light from the kitchen spilled in. That, combined with the lights from the tree
gave the room a warm, cozy glow.
“Why don’t you start a fire,” John asked softly. “It might be nice.”
Luckily, starting a fire meant turning on the gas and using a long
lighter to ignite it. We had a blazing
fire going in ten seconds, complete with shimmering and crackling embers thanks
to some special stuff the log guys sold me when I bought it. “Much better,” I said with a smile. “Excellent idea.”
John nodded silently.
“Everything OK, babe?” I asked, reaching down and stroking his
hair.
“Oh yeah, I’m great,” he said simply with a smile. “Nicely full and just very content to sit
here.”
Bending down, I grabbed one of his joke presents and handed it to him,
sitting on the coffee table directly in front of him. As I handed it to him with a smile, I said,
“I can’t decide if I should say something to you beforehand or not. It’s
something kind of fun.”
He laughed, his mood once again shifting rapidly. “Let me open it and if I get highly insulted,
you can explain then.” Ripping open the
paper after doing the obligatory acknowledgment that it was beautifully
wrapped, he opened the box and laughed out loud. “It’s an alarm clock.”
I laughed, “Yes and watch this.”
Reaching out, I hit a button on the side and my voice came through the
small speaker: "Have you called me
to tell me you’re running late?" I
looked up to gauge his reaction and was thrilled he was smiling broadly. “It’s set to go off at 5:10 and will go off
every minute until you shut it off. I
figure you can put it in your car so at the very least …”
“You’ll know when I’m in the car and I can call,” he said with another
laugh, finishing my sentence.
“Exactly!”
“It’s great,” he said, standing up and kissing me before going over to
the tree and selecting a present of mine.
“It’s sort of boring, but you said you needed it.”
Opening it up, I smiled at the new money clip. It was silver and had my initials etched into
it. “Wow, this is very nice,” I said,
admiring it. “I really do need a new
one, the spring in mine is sprung.”
He smiled, “I know and you refuse to use a wallet like a normal
man.” He laughed as I imitated him,
sticking out my tongue. “I saw your
aunt’s email when I was on your computer and you asked me to check directions
from Mike for that new restaurant a few months ago. So I wrote to her to make sure I knew your
middle name and whatnot.”
I kissed him sweetly. “You’ve very, very clever. Thank you, I love it.”
The rest of the presents went quickly and were all a success. John loved the joke combo pack of flavored lube
and admired the new silk tie in a dark paisley pattern that matched the new
v-neck sweater he had been admiring for a month, but hadn’t gotten around to
buying for himself. On my side, I knew
the new desk light was far superior to what I was currently using and
constantly complaining about My last
gift was an abstract piece of art for the garden made of bamboo and would help
support tall flowers while peeking out between the leaves.
“Wonderful!” I said, standing up and starting to pick up the paper and
discarded ribbon. “Thank you, John. I love everything.”
“Eric,” he said softly.
There was something in his voice that made me turn and look at
him. “What’s wrong? I have receipts and I swear, no offense if
something needs to be returned.” I tried
to make it come out in a light hearted manner even as something in his face
told me that wasn’t it or even close.
Wordlessly shaking his head, he swallowed hard. “Can we sit back down please? I have another present for you.” He had stood up and was clutching at his
hands.
Trying again to keep it light, I smiled, “Ooh, another one!” Fighting back the knot of nerves that had
settled into my stomach, I tried to smile as I sat back on the couch.
“Let me go get it, I kept it in the bedroom," he said, then
quickly added, “Don’t move.”
My legs were rubbery and there was honestly little chance of me
disobeying his order.
He reappeared a moment later carrying a flat box. Not particularly big, maybe the size of a
standard sheet of paper, four or five inches high and rather ordinary
looking. If he hadn’t been acting so
nervous and scared, I would have guessed a t-shirt. Holding it flat, he sat down, this time on
the coffee table so he was in front of me, our knees almost touching. “I’m not sure if I should tell you what’s in
here first or let you open and then explain.”
I was genuinely scared as I reached out and touched his knee, saying
the first thing that came to my mind.
“Tell me first something. Is this
a photo of you before you became John, like maybe Jane or something?”
John stared at me for a second, the words struggling to break through
his nerves before laughing. “God no,” he
said. “I swear, born and raised John. No question.”
“OK, then it’s not that bad or shocking,” I said honestly. “Why don’t you give me the box, I’ll start
opening it slow while you start to talk.
How does that sound?”
He nodded, handing over the box carefully and taking a deep breath as I
took it.
Even holding it in my hands and
discreetly shaking it, I had no clue. It
wasn’t light but wasn’t heavy either, with a solid sounding faint rustle. I still would have guessed a t-shirt. Looking at him, I popped the first corner of
tape and smiled at him to begin.
“So I think I always sort of knew I was gay,” he started in a quick
voice. “Really figured out what that
meant when I was twelve or thirteen and it took me probably five or six years
to really come to terms with it and act on it.
But you know all that,” he said with a small smile.
Giving an encouraging smile and nod, I undid the second corner and
pulled back a bit of the paper to reveal a standard white shirt box from any
department store.
“So I acted on it once in Charleston and knew that there was really no
going back. And then moved on to
college, accepting that I was gay and dating a bit, but nothing serious and
just mostly having fun. I had a few
boyfriends, but except for jerk off sessions and going down on each other, that
was about it. I was fine with that and
it felt like what my speed was right then.”
Taking a deep breath, he continued, still speaking quickly. “So everything was going OK, not great but
OK, but I still felt like something was missing. There was a part of me or my personality or
something that wasn’t being met. I could
tell that, I could tell I was searching for something, but really didn’t have
the words for it.”
I laughed softly, hoping it would be seen as encouraging and not
laughing at him. It seemed to work
because he smiled and nodded.
“So after I graduated, I was still in school mode and tackled it like a
project. I researched it, online
mostly. I just did searches for how I
was feeling and whatever popped into my mind that I thought I wanted, no matter
how crazy.” He nodded toward the still
half wrapped gift on my lap as he spoke.
“I knew what I was thinking I wanted, but it sounded crazy and just
sick, but I was pretty determined.”
Nodding, I pulled off the remaining wrapping. “You know what you want
and aren’t afraid to go after it.”
“Yeah and that was pretty much this. I found this great site that just
hit home and made so much sense and put everything I was feeling into words
that I could never have done myself.” He
lowered his voice. “I know you know what I’m talking about. When you find that thing you want, that
missing piece that fills in these holes and needs you never really wanted to
admit to yourself.” Reaching out, he put
his hand on my knee, eyes locked on mine. “It was a site that explained and
celebrated domestic discipline. It was
focused on men and women couples, but I found gay sites about it too.”
To be honest, my ears and brain stopped working together as John said
"domestic discipline."
Wordlessly, I opened the box, pushing aside the tissue paper and stared
at a paddle. It was beautiful, no mass
produced toy sold at the local sex shop as a gag. The wood was a deep golden brown and looked
as if it had been made by a master craftsman who intimately knew his
trade. Not too big, not too small or too
thick. It would be perfect to swat across
a Brat’s bare butt as he lay stretched over his Top’s lap. Enough weight to get the point across, but
not so much that bruising would be a problem.
It was perfect for discipline and a beautiful piece of wood. And it felt like hot iron in my hand, burning
my skin.
John must have seen the multiple emotions that crossed my face because
he rushed on, explaining himself. “I
always felt that there was something between us and I knew what I was looking
for in a partner for the last couple of years.
That’s really why I didn’t date for a couple of years, because I was
researching what I really wanted, what I really needed and I didn’t think it
would be fair. When you and I met and
got to know each other, I could feel this connection between us.” He paused for a moment and then plunged
forward, too far gone in his speech to stop now. “I always figured even with the most dominant
lover, I’d really have to explain things to him. I even have all these articles printed out
and saved and my notes on them from when I was researching this. But then, a couple of months ago I was on
your computer, remember? You said I could get on to check my mail and stuff and
I wasn’t snooping, but …” His voice
trailed off as he looked at me.
Part of me screamed inside to reach out, caress his face, smooth the
lines of stress and tell him that I knew exactly what he was talking about and
welcomed it. It was drowned out though
by a louder voice screaming No. “I’m
sorry, John,” I said softly, shaking my head.
“But you know what you’re doing,” he said quietly. “You’re still looking at discipline sites,
you’re still reading fiction about it.
You understand, you know what it’s like.”
He was right, I was still doing all of that and there was no way I
could deny it. “Reading fiction is
different than living in that kind of relationship again. I have no desire whatsoever to do that again
or be involved in discipline.”
John took a deep breath, his face twisting with emotion. “But you’re a
natural at it. You’ve stood me in the
corner for being late! You’ve insisted
on topping in bed! You’ve called me Brat
and told me how much you want to take care of me!”
“Don’t you think I deserve some sort of apology for you invading my
privacy by looking at my favorites?” I shot back, reacting to his growing anger
with the only thing at my disposal to latch on to and try to shift the
discussion.
Taking a deep breath and shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe my
pathetic attempt at distraction and evasion, his voice dropped a little as
more despair began to replace the sudden
burst of anger. “You know I was picking up on the signals you were willingly
giving out! You know I was reacting to
them, reacting to you leading me, instructing me, setting up household
rules. You knew how I felt when I’d get
so twisted up inside, unable to do anything because I was trapped because I
knew what I wanted to do and knew how I felt.
You knew what to say, where to touch me and I reacted to all of that.”
Biting off a half sob, he quickly looked away.
“I’m sorry if I led you on, John,” I said softly, wanting to reach out
to him, but the weight of the paddle still in my hand was holding me in place
like iron. It felt so natural there and
that scared me. “I never meant to.”
“Bullshit!” he shot back, eyes tightening as his anger returned in full
force. “You knew exactly what you were
doing. You knew what signals you were
giving me, you saw immediately how topping in bed pushed my buttons. You put me in the corner as punishment
because I was late and ‘that’s not what we do in this relationship.'” His voice rose as the last part came out in a
mocking tone of my own voice, quoting me.
“You were willing to do all that because it was what you wanted. Well, I want more. This is hard for me to admit, Eric, but I do
want more and I need more in a relationship.
I need to be submissive to my partner."
“John…” I started, “I’m sorry if I …”
“Shut up, Eric,” he said, eyes going hard and tight around the edges as
he stood up. “Coming out was hard, admitting that I like to bottom in sex was
hard and I had to overcome a lot of preconceived crap to admit that. Finding out that I do best and want to live
full time, not some game, not some make-believe world, where I’m controlled in
part by my lover and am punished when I break our rules took years of hard
soul-searching and study. It took me to
a lot of places I wasn’t comfortable, inside my own mind and physically to
different clubs. But I found what I was looking for and I thought I had found
the perfect man to share that with me.”
I could see him shutting me out, freezing me out as he retreated behind
walls of ice. I could see him, I could
hear him, but it was also clear he was now untouchable. It was a side of him that I had only glimpsed
before, but now out fully and directed at me.
Taking a step backwards, creating even more distance between us, he
continued in a cold voice, “I thought you understood where I was coming from,
but I was wrong. I’m not wrong about
what I need though and I refuse to give up on that. It took me too long to figure it
out."
I stood up, the wooden paddle clattering to the floor at my feet. Reaching out to him, instinctively wanting to
touch him, I stopped just short when I saw the look in his eyes before he
turned away and walked into the bedroom.
My feet were rooted to the floor and I just stood there, watching the
door where he disappeared.
Coming out three minutes later, his duffle bag jammed with clothes
thrown inside, he looked at me again.
His eyes were still dark and tight as he said, “It was fun. If I’ve left anything behind, mail it to me
or give it to Goodwill. I don’t want to see you again.”
And, with that, he was gone. I
winced as the front door slammed behind him and then I heard the car start up. I couldn’t let him go without one last look
and I was convinced this would still be fixable. John backed his car slowly out of the
driveway, eyes firmly fixed behind him to watch the road as intently as I was
watching him. If he looked back at the
house, I would rush out and somehow convince him to come back so we could talk
again. As his car turned out on to the
road, I stared at him, silently urging him to glance at the house, at me, in
some sort of signal. If he looked that
meant he wasn’t sure and we could still discuss this, work out something that
would make us both happy. I watched him
pulling away from the house, watched him drive up the street. I willed him to glance back, but I stared
after him and never saw the slightest waver of his head.
The End