Date: Tue, 26 May 2015 04:51:49 +0200
From: Nick Brady <y2kslacker@mail.com>
Subject: Marco in the Park

Marco in the Park - 2

This story includes consensual sex between a boy and a young man, so you
should be 18 to read it.  Please send comments to y2kslacker@mail.com and
please make donations to Nifty.

Copyright 2014 - 2015, Nick Brady, all rights reserved.


------------------------------------


It was well after 2:00 in the morning by the time we left the park and got
to my apartment.  Marco had slumped over against the door and was sound
asleep.  He was worn out after a very busy night.

I looked over at him and found it hard to believe he was on the way home
with me. His white shirt was open at the front, revealing his smooth brown
body.  His long black hair had fallen over part of his face and his head
was nodding up and down with the motion of the car.  I puzzled over who had
seduced who.  Certainly it was mutual.

	"Hey, wake up Marco.  We are here."  I had to shake him a little to
rouse him.

	He raised his head and looked around as if uncertain of his
location.  Then he looked over at me and smiled.  "Are we home?"

	"Well, we are at my place."  I said.  "It's home for right now at
least."

He opened the car door and stumbled behind me as I walked up the steps to
my second floor apartment.  It wasn't much, just a one bedroom, but it was
mine. I held the door for him as he walked in and looked around.

	"Where is the bathroom?"  He asked.  I pointed to the door to the
bedroom with adjoining bath.  He went in without a word and noisily
relieved himself into the toilet.  From there he walked over to the double
bed, shucked his clothes and flopped down.

	"There is only the one bed if that's OK."  I told him.

	"It's a lot more comfortable than a picnic table."  He said,
scooting over to the far side.  It seemed that we had already established
the sleeping arrangements.

	I emptied my own bladder and called from the bathroom.  "I am
pretty stinky. Do you need to shower?"  I asked him, starting the water.
When I stepped in, he followed.

	"There isn't much room in here."  I told him.

	"Room enough."  He replied and stood under the water long enough to
wet himself down.  "Got any soap?"

I handed him a container of bath gel and he traded places with me so I
could get under the water.  He lathered up his long hair then used the suds
to wash his body. We traded places and he rinsed while I washed.  It was
pretty efficient.  While I rinsed, he stepped out, found the towel and
began to dry himself.  When I stepped out behind him, he handed the towel
to me and went over to stretch out on the bed.

	When I joined him he mumbled.  "I'm really tired."  I lay down
beside him and we let ourselves air dry.  When I turned towards him he was
already asleep.  It was warm in the room but there was a little air moving
in from the open window.  I pushed the spread down, threw the sheet over
us, and joined him in slumber.  I was tired too.

In the morning I was awakened by the sound of a trash truck juggling
dumpsters in the parking lot.  The bedside clock said 9:10 and he was still
asleep.  I got up, relieved myself and went to the little kitchen where I
started to fry bacon.  The smell revived him.

I heard him using the toilet and after a few minutes he wandered in wearing
his boxer shorts.  He had found my hairbrush and his long hair looked
almost respectable.

	"Good morning."  He said, and sat down at the little kitchen table.

	"Do you drink coffee?"  I asked, and he nodded.  "Milk and sugar?"
I asked, and he nodded again.

	I poured him a cup and set it on the table in front of him, then
pulled a carton of milk from the refrigerator and set it down next to the
coffee.  The sugar bowl was already there.  "Fix it how you like it."  I
told him.  Then I poured myself a cup and sat down across from him.

He poured in a healthy dollop of milk, added two spoons of sugar and
stirred thoughtfully.

	"Don't you need to call your mother?"  I asked.

	He shook his head.  "She won't worry about me.  I will go by the
house sometime today and pick up my stuff."

	"Are you planning on moving in with me?"

	He blew on his coffee and took a sip.  "If you'll let me."  He said
without looking up.

	"We ought to talk about this."  I said.  "You can't just walk away
without your mother's consent."

	He sipped some more coffee.  "Would you let me live with you if it
was OK with my mother?"  Now his eyes met mine.

	I sat back.  "Marco.  We have known each other for less than a day.
Last night in the park was fantastic, but you don't know me at all."  I
paused.  "And I don't know you either.  Living together can be pretty
complicated."

	He kept his eyes on me.  "Would you?"  He repeated.

	I sighed.  "So why are you so keen on moving in with me?  Or is the
question, why are you so keen on leaving your mother?"

	"I told you last night."  He shrugged his shoulders and sipped some
more coffee.

	"Maybe I was distracted last night.  Tell me again."

	Marco leaned back in his chair, flipped his hair back from his face
and took a deep breath.  "Because my mother is a drunk.  Because she shacks
up with a different sleazebag every night, and some of them think I am part
of the deal."  Now he was looking at me very intently.  "She is a
prostitute, Marty, that's how she makes her living.  She's a drunk and a
whore and I don't want to live there any more."  His hands were shaking.

	I could not help but be moved by his situation.  "But why me?  I
mean, am I just the first available train ride out of hell?"

	He scowled at me.  "No."  Then he thought for a minute and looked
very sad.  "I'm not a whore.  I didn't have sex with you last night just to
get you to take me in.  You were really nice to me and I liked you.  I
thought you liked me too."

	Now I felt bad.  "I'm sorry Marco.  I guess that sounded cold.  I
do like you, a lot.  It is hard to explain how I feel, but this is awfully
fast.  I can't just take a kid in off the street and claim you like a stray
puppy."

	He finished his coffee and I got up and poured him another.  I
broke some eggs in the pan of bacon grease and asked him.  "How do you like
your eggs?"

	"I don't care as long as the whites aren't runny."  He said, and
began to doctor his coffee with milk and sugar.

	I did them over medium, put them on a plate with some of the bacon
and pulled a couple of canned biscuits from the toaster oven.  "You like
grape jelly?"  I asked.

	He nodded.  "You got some butter?"

	"Yes.  Well it's margarine."

	"Same thing."  He shrugged, then said.  "Thanks."

	I fixed myself some eggs, made a plate and sat down with him.
"Chow down."  I told him.

We ate in silence, then I got the coffee pot and poured us both another
cup, tearing off a couple of paper towels and laying them out for napkins.

	"I might be willing to let you stay here for awhile, but you have
to let your mother know where you are, and she will have to agree to it."
I explained.

	He gave me a hopeful look.  "I will do anything you want if you
will let me stay with you."

	"What do you mean by that?  Like you will do sex with me in
exchange for room and board?"  I asked.

	The hurt look came back.  "No, not just that.  I mean I can help
you cook and clean and stuff.  I do have a job, you know.  I can pay for my
own food."

	I took a deep breath.  "Probably what I should do is take you
straight home, but I won't do that right now.  If you can get your mother
to OK this arrangement, I might let you stay for awhile to see how it
goes."

	He looked into his coffee cup.  "Do you like me?  I mean, would you
like it is I was to live with you?"

	I swallowed some coffee.  "Yes, Marco.  I do like you.  I think I
would like for you to be here.  But there is a problem with our ages.  I am
gay and there are problems with letting a 16 year old kid move in with me.
We might both get in trouble."

	"I promise I won't be any trouble."  He said.  I can help you with
things, and...."  He teared up on me.

	"No, I don't mean that.  I mean legal troubles.  Suppose your
mother said yes and then decided to make trouble for us.  I don't know what
she might do."

	He nodded with understanding.  "I see what you mean."  He said.
"But she knows I am going to leave her.  I have moved out a couple of times
and she didn't really care.  The problem was that I didn't have a safe
place to go and had to come back after a week or so of living on the
street.  I feel safe with you."  He played with the spoon in his coffee
cup.  "I told you Marty.  I trust you."

	"You don't know that.  Maybe you can trust me, maybe you can't."  I
tried to make him understand.

	"Can't I trust you?  Will you hurt me or abuse me?"  His hands were
shaking again.

	It was an honest question, and deserved an honest answer.  "No, I
won't hurt you or abuse you.  Of course not.  I couldn't do that to anyone,
least of all you."  I sighed.  "It seems that I have a thing for you Marco.
I think I could grow to be very fond of you.  I guess I already am."

	I laid my hands flat on the table.  "You know, there is also the
possibility that you might hurt me.  If I give you a place to live, I might
just end up giving my heart to you, and that would make me very vulnerable.
I am alone and lonely. When this beautiful boy walks into my life, I don't
know what will happen."

	He gave me a very sweet smile.  "Do you really think I am
beautiful?"

	"Oh yes.  I think you are beautiful, sweet, intelligent and very
charming. Maybe I have been looking for you, or someone like you, for a
long time.  You walked up with that menu last night and my heart almost
jumped out of my chest."

	"I knew that.  I felt the same way."  He looked very hopeful.  "I
felt safe with you as soon as you spoke to me.  You know, it is hard for me
to feel safe with most people.  I have been messed with a lot, but I just
knew I could trust you."

	He reached across the table and placed his hands on top of mine.
"Then will you give me a chance?  If I can get my mother to agree to let me
stay here, will you let me?"

	All my defenses were crumbling.  "OK, we can try it out for a week
or two. But you have to stay in school and keep your job.  You have to stay
out of trouble."

	Now he was smiling big time.  "Oh, I will."  He promised.  "I will
make you proud of me, really I will.  You'll see.  You will be so glad that
you let me live with you.  I promise!"

	I sighed and shook my head.  "I may regret this, but yes.  The
answer is yes. But you have to get permission.  And the arrangement is not
just based on us having sex."  I squeezed his hands.  "We need to know a
lot more about each other.  There is a lot you don't know about me, and not
all of it is good."

	Marco gave me a sly grin.  "I bet its not all bad either.  I'm
sorry, but I have decided that you are a good person, and it will be hard
to get me to change my mind."  Then he jumped up and cleared the dishes
from the table and started running water in the sink.

	He washed and I dried while we talked.  "So what happened to your
dad?"

	"Are we going to be polite, or honest?"  He asked.

	"Honesty is the best policy."  I answered.  "If we are going to
trust each other, we are going to have to be honest."

	"Well, to be honest, I don't know who my father is.  Some guy she
shacked up with I guess."  He wrung out the dish cloth and draped it over
the faucet.  "I think he was Indian, like Native American."

	"Well, he was a good looking devil."  I said.  That got a little
bit of a smile.

	"You got any more coffee?"  He asked.

	I started another pot and we sat down at the table.  I fished the
cigarettes from my pocket and we both lit one up.  "No brothers or
sisters?"  I wondered.

	"Not that I know of."  He kept his eyes on the table.  "I'm not
sure."

	"You paint a pretty dark picture here."  I said.

	He shrugged.  "I am being honest."

	I waited a minute then asked.  "Do you do drugs?"

	He glanced up at me.  "Not really.  I have smoked some weed, but
nothing else.  I'm kind of scared of it really."

	"You should be."  I told him.  "I guess one of my conditions is no
drugs."

	"That's not a problem."  He nodded.  "Anything else?  I mean any
other conditions?"

	I shook my head.  "Not many.  Help me out with basic chores and
stay out of trouble.  I guess school is out for the summer, how are you
with school?"

	"Pretty good.  I mean, I make pretty good grades, A's and B's
mostly.  I kind of like school."

	"Have you ever been in any trouble?  Like legal trouble?"  I
wondered.

	"Like with the cops?"  He looked up at me.  "No, not like that.  I
have been sent to detention for being mouthy a few times at school, but
nothing serious."  He shrugged.

	I gave him a straight look.  "Is this going to work, Marco?"

	He returned the look.  "I am really going to try hard, Marty.  I
won't let you regret this."

	I started to feel better about things.  "I'm no angel myself, if
you want to know."

	He looked back down at his coffee.  "What do I need to know?"

	I leaned back and considered what I wanted to tell him.  "My mother
is a good person, but she married the wrong guy, I guess.  My dad drank a
lot.  He was OK when he was sober, but when he drank he was a asshole.  Mom
divorced him when I was twelve, but I remember he would slap her around
sometimes.  He didn't like me much either."

	"Did he hurt you?"  Marco had a knowing look.

	"He didn't beat me really, but he yelled at me a lot, and told me
how worthless I was."

	"Why did he think you were worthless?"  He looked puzzled.

	"I don't know.  I didn't live up to his expectations I guess."  I
shrugged. "I played soccer mostly to try and impress him, but I was more
interested in music."

	I let that soak in for a minute.  "Was there ever a father in your
life?"

	"No, not really.  There were always a lot of men around, but they
never stayed very long.  He recalled.  "Some of them were nice to me and
some were not, but I was never close to any of them.  Sometimes we would
move in with one of them for awhile.  We moved around a lot until Mom got
her own apartment."

	My heart went out to him.  "Does she love you?  Do you feel like
your mother loves you?"

	Marco looked down and almost flinched.  "I guess.  Really, I think
the only things she likes are money and whiskey.  I was always kind of in
the way.  I mean, having a little kid around was bad for business."  He
paused.  "Except for the guys who were into little boys."

	I frowned.  "Was there much of that?"

	He sighed.  "Not so much.  I got good at disappearing.  I had a
friend who had a nice family.  If it got real bad I would go over there.
His dad was real nice.  I could show up at 11 o'clock at night and they
would put me to bed.  No questions asked."

	"Good friends are hard to come by."  I agreed.  "It is good to have
somebody you can trust."

	He gave me a searching look.  "When you find somebody you think you
can trust, you have to hang on to them."

	"Yeah, I guess you do."  I said.  "Maybe I'm beginning to
understand you better.  My mother is a real sweetheart.  She always
accepted me and encouraged me. I owe her a lot."

	Marco nodded.  "I guess you were lucky."  He looked thoughtful.
"Did you say you went to college?  Was that hard?"

	"It was a lot of work.  Do you think you want to go to college?"  I
wondered.

	"I will be a senior next year and a lot of kids are talking about
where they are going to college.  I can't see that happening for me."

	"Why not?  You said you made good grades."

	Marco made a little circular movement with his thumb and fingers
that indicated money.  "No way."

	"Your mom couldn't help you?"  I asked.  He replied with a short
laugh.

	I considered that for a moment.  "Well, there are other ways;
scholarships, grants and stuff."  He looked away like I was speaking Greek.

	He folded his hands on top of the table and looked at me.  It was
his turn to ask.  "Is this going to work?"

	It was my turn to answer.  "I hope so.  I really hope so, Marco."

It was getting close to noon and starting to get warm.  I had no real plans
for the day but wondered about Marco.

	"Are you working today?"

	"Yes.  I just work weekend evenings, Friday to Sunday, 4:00 to
10:00.  School just got out and that was what I could find.  I am still
looking."

	"You are supposed to be eighteen to handle liquor."  I reminded
him.

	"I lied."  He said.  "Luigi is kind of sloppy on fact checking."

	"Well, I won't tell if you won't."  I laughed.  That got me his
first real smile of the day.

	"I better get you home so you can face the music."  I said.  "If
you can get this past your mother I can come back for you later.  You got a
phone?"

	"It's in my pants."  He said.  "I need your number."

	"All I have is a cell phone.  Give me your number and I will call
you and you can save it."  He did, I did, and it rang in the bedroom.  He
went to retrieve it and came back in a few minutes with his clothes on.

	"I guess I'm ready."  He said.  "Lets get this over with.  If I'm
lucky she will already be drunk and won't argue with me."

	I picked up my keys and we walked down to the parking lot.  "Nice
car."  He said.  "Is that a Camry?"

	"Yes.  It's 5 years old but pretty decent.  You saw it last night."
I reminded him.

	"It was dark, and I was distracted."  He shrugged.

I lived near Luigi's but about 10 miles from his place.  We passed the old
park where we had stopped the night before.  For the first time I saw where
he lived. It was a long block of apartments surrounded by a chain link
fence and very little shrubbery.

	"Section 8 housing."  He said by way of explanation.  "I will call
you later."

	"Should I go in and meet your mother?"

	He just laughed.  "I will call you.  It won't be long."

I watched him walk inside and wondered how my life would change.  For the
better, I hoped.

I stopped by the supermarket on the way back.  I figured I should lay in
some groceries if I was to be feeding two.  I wasn't a bad cook, but he
wouldn't be eating steak.  I guessed him to be a hamburger, pizza kind of
guy.  I hoped he liked pasta.  I walked out with enough to last us for a
week or so.

By the time I got back to the apartment and had things put away, my cell
phone rang.  It was Marco.

	"I'm ready.  Can you come and get me?"

	"That didn't take long."

	"I don't have much stuff."  He said.

	"Did you tell her where you were going?"  I asked.

	"Yes.  I couldn't remember your address but I gave her your phone
number."  He assured me.  "She will probably lose it, but I gave it to
her."

	"Have you got your stuff?"

	"Yep.  I have everything.  I don't plan to come back."

	"What if this doesn't work out?"

	He paused.  "Then I will go someplace else.  I'm through here."

	"OK.  Give me 30 minutes.  Where will you be?"

	"Out by the street.  Make it 20, please."  He clicked off.

I looked around my little apartment and wondered where to put an extra
person.  It was barely large enough for me.  I wondered if I could trade my
old sofa for a futon or something.  He sounded like he was in a hurry so I
left those decisions for later and went down to the car.

Twenty minutes later I pulled up in front of his mother's apartment.
Sitting on the curb was Marco with a backpack and a trash bag.

	"Is that it?"  I asked as he pitched his stuff into the back seat.

	"That's it, let's go."  He said abruptly.

	"You sound pissed."

	"I am."

	"What happened?"

	"I came in without knocking and disturbed her with a customer."  He
was looking out the window with a scowl on his face.

	"Did you tell her where you were going?"

	"I told her I was leaving and she yelled good riddance at me.  I
wrote your phone number on a piece of paper and left it on her table."

	"Is that all you have?"  I pointed at the back seat.

	"That's it.  When you move around a lot, you travel light."

We rode the rest of the way in silence.  When we got to my apartment he
trudged up the stairs with all his worldly possessions.  When I unlocked
the door he tossed them inside and sat down on my sofa.  He leaned over
with his hair streaming down around his face and tried not to cry.

	I resisted the temptation to sit down and put my arms around him.
He was trying to hold himself together and I didn't think he wanted
sympathy.  "Let's get you settled."  I said.  "What do you have?"

	He tossed his hair back and began to open his bundles.  "Not much,
really." He sniffed.

In the trash bag was a shabby assortment of jeans, t-shirts, and
sweatshirts, mostly imprinted with sports teams logos.  He was still
wearing the black jeans and white shirt from the night before.  In the
backpack was a second pair of sneakers, some socks and underwear, and an
item that he reluctantly pulled out last.  It was a tattered teddy bear.

	"Don't laugh."  He warned me.

	"Hey, everybody needs a friend." I told him gently.

	He sat staring at the teddy.  "I've had this a long time."

	I moved over next to him and started folding the clothing, putting
it in piles.  "I can empty one of my dresser drawers for this.  It won't
take much room."

	He sighed.  "I'm sorry.  I hate drama and I know you don't need
this."

	"That's OK.  We will have to share everything, including a little
drama from time to time."  I gathered up his clothes and took them into the
bedroom.  After I had put them away I came back in and took the teddy.
"Let's put him in here."  I said, going back to the bed and laying it on
the pillows.  "He looks comfortable here, don't you think?"

	Marco threw his arms around me and stifled a cry.  "Thank you
Marty."  Was all he said.

	He sat down on the bed and I asked.  "Are you working tonight?"

	"Yes."  He nodded.  "Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights from 4:00
to 10:00."

	"It's almost 3:00.  We need to get you ready.  Are those your work
clothes?" Indicating the wrinkled jeans and shirt he was still wearing.

	He looked down at himself.  "I look pretty bad, don't I?"

	"There is a laundry room downstairs, but we don't have time to wash
this stuff right now.  Take them off and we'll see what we can do with
them."

	He obediently undressed and handed the clothes to me, standing in
only his boxer shorts.  I shook them out and decided they were salvageable.
"Do you know how to iron?"  I asked him.  He nodded.

I pulled an ironing board from the bedroom closet and an iron from the
shelf.  I set up the board, plugged in the iron and handed it to him.

	"Here, you don't have much time."

He began to press out his outfit, doing a credible job.  I might have done
better, but I wanted him to do it.  He put them on, still warm.

	"They give me the apron and bow tie."  He explained.

	"It's not far to Luigi's. I can take you.  Do you want to call me
when you are ready to come home?"

	"Yes please."  He smiled.

	"What's so funny?"  I asked.

	"You said home.  Like I live here."

	It had seemed very natural.  "I did, didn't I?  Well, let's see how
this goes.  Are you ready?"

	He held out his arms for my inspection.  "Will I do?"

	"You look great Marco.  Your shirt is a little dingy but we can
wash it tomorrow."  I corrected myself.  "You can wash it tomorrow."

	"I can do for myself."  He assured me.  He shoved his cell phone
into his pocket and walked to the door.

	We drove the short distance to the restaurant and he jumped out.
"Thank you!"  He called over his shoulder and rushed inside.

It had been a long time since breakfast and I was hungry.  Back at the
apartment I pulled some bologna and sliced cheese from the fridge and made
myself a sandwich.  I hoped he liked bologna because it would be a staple
of his diet here. The fact that I was slender was more a matter of
economics than self control.  Our joint finances were something to be
worked out.  What if he turned out to be a freeloader?

Marco did not seem to want sympathy, but it was impossible to ignore how
difficult his life had been up to now.  In spite of that, he appeared to be
basically functional.  I reckoned he was a survivor, and a pretty strong
kid.  I had to respect that.  It would serve neither of us for the
relationship to be based on pity.

I wondered what sort of a relationship we might have.  Certainly we would
be lovers.  Our first night in the park had left little doubt that we were
sexually compatible.  Right now, the difference in our ages was
problematic, but in a couple of years that would resolve.  I would prefer a
relationship based on mutual agreement and respect.  I didn't want a boy to
raise, I wanted a partner.  At the moment Marco just wanted a safe place to
live.  Time would tell where this went.

I put away the sandwich makings and looked around.  The apartment was
small, but Marco came with little baggage.  The kitchen was clean.  He had
put away the dishes and wiped off the counter.  That was a good sign.  I
went in the bedroom and looked at the teddy bear perched on my pillows and
shook my head.

I didn't have a TV.  I was not a big fan of television.  Other than news
and sports, I seldom cared to watch.  I had a smartphone with Pandora on it
and had purchased a nice little Bluetooth speaker that I could move from
room to room.  My tastes ran to classic rock and piano quintets and liked
to have music in the background.

Did he say he played a violin?  I wondered about his instrument.  My piano
playing was limited to a small electronic keyboard in a corner of my living
room.  Mother had a piano but there was no room for one here.  She had
bought this for me when I went off to college and I enjoyed playing on it
when I had the time.  Maybe we shared some common interests.

I stretched out on the bed and read the daily newspaper until I fell
asleep.

	When my phone rang I looked at the time.  It was 9:30.  "I will be
ready at 10:00" Marco told me.

	I pulled up on front of Luigi's just before 10;00, waited until he
came out and climbed into the front seat.  He handed me an envelope filled
with cash and change.  "Tips."  He explained.

	"That's yours."  I said.

	"It's ours.  Put it somewhere and I will take what I need.  I
should get paid tomorrow night."

Another good sign.  I drove us home.

	"So how was your day?"  I asked.

	"It was OK, busy, so I made some good tips."

	"Is Luigi's going to work out for you?"

	"Sure.  It's a cool place."  He said.  "I will make it work until
something better comes along."

	We went inside.  He took off his clothes and asked.  "Where do I
put these?"

	I pulled a partly filled laundry basket from the closet and pointed
to it. "We can do some washing tomorrow."  I told him.  "You tired,
hungry?"

	"I had something to eat at Luigi's on my break.  I could use a
shower though."  He raised his arm and sniffed his armpit.  "I'm kind of
stinky."

	"Go shower while I find something for us to eat.  I am kind of
hungry myself."  I said.

He padded off to the bathroom while I rummaged in the refrigerator and
found a zip-lock bag with three slices of pizza from earlier in the week
that I tossed in the microwave.  In a few minutes he came out wearing a
towel around his slender waist with damp hair hanging around his shoulders.

	I laid out the pizza on a plate with two cans of soda.  "Help
yourself."

	He opened a can of soda and picked up a slice.  "The other two are
yours."

	We made the pizza disappear then he announced.  "I need another
job."

	"I thought you liked Luigi's."

	"No, not instead of Luigi's.  I need second job.  Three 6 hour days
don't make me enough money."

	"How much can you make waiting tables at Luigi's?"  I asked,
assuming it was OK to ask.

	"It only pays $5 an hour, that's $30.00 a night.  Mostly I will
work for tips."

	"How much are the tips?"

	"Count it."  He pointed to the envelope.

I poured the bills and change out on the table and counted it in front of
him.  I was surprised that it added up to $115.00 in bills, and another
$7.50 in change.

	"That's not bad."  I exclaimed.

	"That's not half of it.  When the customer pays with a credit card,
Luigi puts my part of the tab on my paycheck."

	I laughed.  "I think you are making more than I do."

	"Probably not, but there are another 4 days in the week.  What am I
going to do all week?"  He reasoned with me.

So much for the idea that he might be a freeloader.

	"OK.  I take a newspaper if you want to look through the
classifieds."  I offered.

	"Tomorrow."  He said.  "I'm kind of tired if you are ready to go to
bed."

	"Listen, are you sure you want to share the same bed with me?  I
have a sofa, and I can trade it for a futon or something."  I told him.  "I
mean, you might like a little privacy."

	Marco gave me a nice smile.  "Sleeping in the same bed with you is
the nicest part of this arrangement.  Are you ready for bed?"

	"Since you put it that way, I think so."  I agreed.

We walked into the bedroom and I stripped down to my shorts and t-shirt
while he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb out his hair.
He hung the wet towel on the towel rod and came to bed naked.

	God, he was beautiful.  "Do you always sleep nude?"  I asked.

	"Pretty much."  He replied.  "Do you always sleep with your clothes
on?"

	"Well, just shorts and t-shirt.  But it is warm tonight."  I smiled
and removed them.

He was obviously getting an erection.  I decided his way was best.  I
flipped out the room light and got in bed next to him.  There was a little
breeze coming from the window.  He snuggled up next to me.  His skin felt
wonderful against mine.  We kissed and pressed our erections together.
This might work out.


--------------------------------

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