Date: Sun, 3 Aug 2003 13:32:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: Drew Filchak <dfilchak1521@yahoo.com>
Subject: Release
The door clicked shut, silencing the clamor of
everyone's goodbyes and I dropped into the chair next to the
door in the entryway; the tears finally spilling after hours
of constant refusal to allow their fall. I leaned my head
back against the wall and, alone in the silence, wept for
the first time since the funeral. I had watched the
surprise evening unfold knowing that this would be the
inevitable outcome. And now so much pain coursed through my
heart that I thought it was again being ripped out of my
chest and pummeled with a mallet.
I knew today would be rough; there was no getting
around it. It was Michael's 42nd birthday, or would have
been if it wasn't for that asshole who liked so much to
drink and drive. I wasn't oblivious to the day and what it
meant, but I also wasn't paying close enough attention when
Joshua had mentioned he'd be stopping by to drop off the
couple books we'd talked about during dinner at Decisions
last week. So when he showed up around five in his usual
flustered state and demanding a cocktail because the clerk
at Neiman's had been so mean, I laughed in spite of myself.
I didn't want company that day, but Josh was the kind of
best friend that insists on attention. The alternative to
bringing up Michael's birthday and trying to explain my
desire for continuing solitude was to make him a large
Cosmopolitan and hope his tirade would be short lived. Boy
was I wrong, but like I said, I wasn't paying much
attention.
Joshua downed the martini and held his glass up with a
plaintive look on his face. "You wouldn't deprive me from
finding solace from that `oh, I'm so hot and I know it'
bitch at Neiman's now would you?" His eyes and mouth pouted
in his best poor me face.
"Honey, you just need to let it go. Why do you keep
going back there and setting yourself up for rejection? You
know he's full of "A Gay" attitude and even though you could
buy a hundred guys like him or better, he'll never let you
in. Another martini is only going to wind you up further."
I had to at least try to get him thinking of the door.
His eyes narrowed at my comment and the pout
disappeared, replaced with his best perturbed look. "You're
being a bitch. If you want me to leave, just say so."
I sighed. I guess I was acting a little put out, but I
knew Joshua and I knew he would not settle for just one
Cosmo. Knowing that fact though didn't help me get to my
feet any faster. I wanted him to leave, thus leaving me
alone. If I made him another drink then my day to myself
would be lost. Sure there would always be tomorrow to be
alone and the day after to be alone, but today . . . I was
entitled to be alone, wasn't I?
"You know what Marcus?" he started, his chest puffing
out slightly as his neck tilted his head forward, the slight
movement causing me to sigh inwardly. "You're turning more
and more into Michael. He was the one that always hated
drop-ins. I knew it all along, even though he would laugh
and smile and pretend interest. And now you're getting just
as bad!"
His words shocked me, no they pissed me off! How dare
he? On today of all days! Then I realized that he didn't
know what significance today held and my bluster dissipated
almost before it started. "Alright, you win Bitch. Give me
your glass," I said, a puckered smile letting him know I
wasn't really pissed at him. "But this is the last one.
Ok? I have things to do and I don't really feel like people
today."
"Sure, the last one until everyone gets here."
What? No one else was coming over, I'd even forgotten
about Josh stopping over. This was my day alone!
"What do you mean `everyone else'?"
The door bell rang. I shot daggers towards Joshua as
he sat there with smug, self-contented innocence covering
his face.
And so there you have it. Six of "our" friends dropped
by, all seemingly unexpectedly and uttering comments like
"Oh, I was just thinking of you" and "I was in the
neighborhood". Joshua appeared very pleased with himself
and the rest of the friends were able to assuage their own
feelings of loss by `coming to my aide' on this special day.
No one seemed to give much of a shit about what I wanted.
The all knew best, just ask them. But now the door was
closed and the tears had come and gone. I sat still, in the
entryway, listening to the silence that was now my intimate
companion.
November chilled into December and the months of winter
rolled by without me taking much notice. For the first time
in over 10 years I did not join the gang at the Outboard gay
skiing event the mega-millionaire Tim Gill puts on every
year at Copper Mountain. Nor did I attend the HRC gala
event or pretty much anything else that Michael and I used
to attend. I even declined the gang's annual jaunt to
Oklahoma City for a costume Halloween Party at our friends.
But I didn't miss any of it. My time was spent working on
my kitchen remodel project. I'd started it the weekend
after the funeral. Everyone thought it would be great
therapy for me. Isn't that precious.
I'd started it so soon following the funeral so as to
have a reason for declining invitations and keeping people
away. You can't be expected to be a proper host without a
kitchen. It worked for the most part. Of course, Joshua
always stopped by and so did Giancarlo, but the rest took
the hint and allowed me my hideaway.
The time spent on the remodel did in fact have a
therapeutic effect on me. My skills at working with
drywall, granite and cabinetry along with basic electric,
plumbing and gas line re-working had improved greatly. For
the first time I could take whatever time I needed to apply
precision and focus on the effort at hand. Michael hated
the projects I started and drug my feet to finish. He was
right though, there `d been many, many projects over the 10
years we'd spent in our Victorian and some of them did drag
on. Sure, he'd been exasperated with my progress and he
made me swear that when we considered the kitchen that we
would contract it out. I was all for it at the time.
Shoot, having some studs working in the house wouldn't be
all bad.
My time most nights during the week and definitely on
the weekends was consumed by the kitchen. I was in no hurry
and I found a sense of accomplishment in my slow but steady
progress. Once finished each evening I would end up at the
computer, searching for a story on Nifty to jack off to and
satisfy that aspect of my life. To attempt a real live,
person to person, encounter was completely off the script.
Even when the hot guy at Homo Depot -- our nickname for the
home remodel giant -- made it clear to me that he was more
than interested in checking out my progress in person, I
declined. He was definitely a hottie, but I knew, as
always, once we'd get started my erection would not keep
pace with my desires no matter how hot the guy was.
That was my little shame, my little secret. I had no
problem getting and staying hard while reading a hot story
on the internet, but once there was a live player involved .
. . sigh.
Neither Joshua nor my other friend, Giancarlo, knew
about my impotence. Michael and I were both in our early
40s and I've heard some guys just lose interest. I figured
that was it. Josh and Carlo knew that Michael and I didn't
have much sex, but I think they thought it was because we
didn't want it anymore. And in some ways that might have
been true. For years we had each taken care of ourselves,
Michael through his porn videos and me through erotic
stories on the net. Trust me, he had quite a fine
collection of porn and the internet offers almost limitless
variations on a theme! After a long enough period of time I
think we literally forgot how to romance each other, how to
share looks and intent and desire between the two of us.
And believe me when I say Michael still, after 20 years, had
a fairly good body and his cock was every bit as big and
impressive as it was when he'd made me realize that being on
top all of the time wasn't as important, nor as pleasurable,
as I had seemed to think it was when I was 20. Add into all
of that over the 20 years we'd spent together I had amassed
a significant amount of extra weight thanks to many reasons
and I found myself with mental desires for men, but no real
belief in my ability to appear attractive and desirable to
other men that attracted me, including Michael. The result?
Impotence. I had all the desire in the world, but when it
came to show time my equipment became nice and soft and
cuddly. Just like my body. Shit.
My cock is more than decent and I have a great hairy
chest, but I'd let the rest of my body go. During the year
previous to Michael's sudden and permanent departure, I'd
spent considerable time at the gym seeing if I could get my
body working again. Some of the weight had dropped off, but
the rest was staying firmly attached. After Michael died I
continued going to the gym religiously. It was part of my
routine . . . work, gym, home to do a little more on the
kitchen, then pound the meat until it gave up its juice.
Then sleep and start the day over again. As I said before,
my satisfaction in life came from working on the kitchen. I
did not need anything or anyone else.
Giancarlo and Joshua thought differently.
Early May sunshine streaming through the window drew me
outside. Michael's gardens had been waking up from their
winter's sleep for the past month.
Michael's gardens.
I had always referred to them as such. Friends would
laugh at me as I talked to them about the plants. I always
called a plant Dogwood if I couldn't remember its real name.
Michael would roll his eyes and shake his head. His point
was valid. Between the two houses we'd owned, we'd been
surrounded by his gardens for over 15 years. One would
think I could remember the damn names.
I had promised myself as I walked through the yards
last August, silent tears on my cheeks after the service,
that I would not lose a single plant. Inside or outside.
So far I had lost only two out of literally hundreds. But
they were ugly anyway. Not too bad in my book, I reasoned.
I could clearly hear Michael chastising me and I chuckled.
When we met and he moved into my apartment I had two
plants. One was a philodendron and the other could have
been a dogwood. Who knows. Anyway, the philodendron had
tiny leaves and was withering more each day. I had held a
private funeral service for the dogwood. Its burial plot
was the window ledge in the pantry behind the closed mini-
blinds. Out of sight, out of guilt! The look on Michael's
face when he found the dogwood's final resting place was
priceless; true shock and horror along with stark
incredulity.
"Marc!" I went running for the kitchen sure I had
committed some cardinal sin that would rock our month-old
relationship. That shrill tone in anyone's voice activated
my ex-catholic fear response. I was only 22 at the time and
had quit the church only four years earlier so the ingrained
response was still alive and potent.
Michael stood in the doorway of the pantry at the end
of our little galley kitchen. In his hands was the dead
dogwood. His mouth was open in a frozen gasp, eyes wide,
brows raised high.
"What?"
"I just found this plant behind the mini-blinds!"
"Uh-huh. It's dead."
"No it's not! Look!" He showed me two microscopic
green leaves at the base of one of the multitudes of dead
stalks.
"Michael, it's dead. Trust me. I haven't watered it
in at least three months."
He looked at me with scorn and disgust.
"What were you doing looking behind the mini-blinds
anyway?"
"I was cleaning."
"Behind the mini-blinds? Why?" It was my turn to be
incredulous.
"Because this kitchen is filthy, that's why." I looked
around at the kitchen and kind of shrugged. It looked
pretty clean to me.
Michael had placed the dogwood into the sink and was
flooding the pot with water from the tap. Then he pulled
off some of the dead leaves leaving a pot full of twigs and
two tiny green rays of hope.
About a month later I came in from work and noticed
there were five or six plants sitting in the various window
sills. Gosh, they looked pretty; so green and warm looking.
"You got some new plants today, huh? They look great!"
"No," with a minor shake of his head and a questioning
sideways look at me. "No new plants. Those . . ." with a
wave of his hand toward the plants in the living room, "are
the ones I brought from my place."
"Huh." I was confused. "I meant these. Where'd these
come from?"
He looked at the two plants I was pointing to above the
dining nook table.
"Marcus," great exasperation plainly conveyed. "Those
are your plants."
I just stared at him open-mouthed and then at the
plants. It was nothing short of a miracle. The
philodendron's leaves were the size of pears and the dogwood
- truly now Lazarus reborn - was full of translucent red-
veined leaves covering all of the previously dead stalks. I
actually recognized the plant again. My mother had sent it
with me when I moved to Denver three years earlier. She
called it a Henry Kissinger plant because it was a Wandering
Jew.
I knew my life would never again be the same. To
think, I would actually have live, growing, pretty things in
my house all because of my man!
I was in heaven.
Three hours later, the last of the garden beds had
been fully cleaned from the winter debris and I had clipped
any of the dead I could see on the perennials. I just hoped
that I was supposed to do this. I'd watched Michael do it
year after year, yet never joined in. It was his job, his
passion. And he loved doing it. But now I was more than a
little uncertain. I figured I would know soon enough if it
was a good thing or not.
The previous weekend had been spent de-winterizing the
sprinkler system. Now this was familiar territory. This
was my job. I'd installed it two years before including a
drip system for all of the potted annuals we put in each
summer. Each of the beds, eight in all, had their own or a
shared zone including the four urns outside of the wrought
iron on the recessed sidewalk out front. The focus needed
to make sure that all of the plants received enough water
had actually prepared me for the chore of tending to the
plants now that Michael was gone. I at least knew where all
of the plants were.
To some, that may be a weird statement - knowing where
all of the plants are located. But you have to understand
something. It was an innate tenet of my personality to see
plants and roses and shrubs, etcetera, as "pretties" to be
enjoyed and used as such. Roses were to be cut and
arranged, bedding plants were meant to be in bloom or else
why have them. The gardens to me were part of the
decoration and something to get oohs and ahhs from by
visiting friends and neighbors. Just like a nicely set
dining table, a gourmet meal, a fine pinot noir or a Ratliff
painting is meant to give satisfaction. Gratification comes
in many forms. Michael received gratification from the
maintenance and growth and burgeoning splendor of the plants
in his gardens. Sure he wanted them to look nice, but
without a second thought or pause, he would cut back a plant
in full bloom in order to make it bloom bigger and fuller.
That, to me, made no sense! I did, over the years, grow
used to it and refrained from allowing my heart beat to
race. See, for me it wasn't the plant I was worried about,
but rather the "pretty" it provided my senses. I had so
much to learn now that the gardens were my sole
responsibility.
Hot and sweaty and lost in thought as I tied up the
Dogwood vine on the north fence, I did not hear the front
gate open.
"Hey stud man, looking mighty hot there."
I screamed. The ball of twine went flying over the
fence and I spun around to seen Giancarlo throw his hands up
and yell. "What's the matter!" his slight accent, now
instantly thicker, was fully affected by his surprise at my
shout.
"Fuck you Carlo!" My heart pounded. Then the suffusing
blush of embarrassment set in and I started giggling
uncontrollably. Giancarlo joined in almost without
volition. Thankfully, our giggles died out quickly.
"You, boy, are such a pinchy mess! Why are you
screaming like a little girl?"
"You know not to sneak up on me. Everybody knows that.
Michael had scars as testimony to his slow learning
abilities in this regard. And my sister's nose will never
again be the same. Shit Carlo." My laughter had died,
leaving me with the perpetual grin as the memory of my
hysterics flashed again before my eyes.
"Honey, you need a cocktail! Man!"
Laughing, I agreed. It was time to stop for the day.
I hugged Carlo and gave him a big squeeze.
"Bitch! You're all sweaty and this is my DKNY best
white!" I rubbed my body against his again for effect and
let him go.
"You think just because you've hunked up over the
winter and now have this hot body to show off without a
shirt that you can smear your stinky sweat all over me? Do
it again!" Indignation lost in his laughter.
"Hunked up? What are you talking about," I said as we
headed for the patio and some needed reprieve from the sun.
He followed me inside and grabbed two tumblers that we
frequently used for gin and tonics. The house was
refreshingly cool with the help from the swamp cooler. The
sweat on my skin chilled instantly causing my nipples to
harden and lengthen.
"What do you mean `what am I talking about'. You've
lost even more weight than when I saw you at Roxey's two
weeks ago. And honey, your biceps and chest are really
cutting well." He reached up and pulled my nipple, causing
me to flinch back. "And damn, your nips are so big now.
What are you doing to them?"
I ignored his question and chuckled as I turned to the
bar. "You just leave my tits alone Bitch."
"Or has someone else been working on them for you?" He
broke in, leering at me with his mocha eyes and long lashes.
I sighed. "You know there's been no one else. I'm
doing just fine by myself."
Carlo snorted but said nothing. Handing him a drink we
moved back to the deck off the dining room and lowered
ourselves into the chairs. Much more comfortable, I
thought, now that the new cushions that Michael's sister
made for me last month were in place. I heard Michael chide
me for sitting on the off-white cushions shirtless and
sweaty.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mumbled, not thinking Carlo would
notice.
"Stop talking to him Marc. It gives me the creeps!"
"Whatever."
I took a long draw from my cocktail. Ahh! It tasted
great!
"Thanks for stopping by. I really needed to say I was
done for the day, but I kept moving to another area. Man,
there's so fucking much crap to do!"
" Well the yards are looking good. Miss Thing is gonna
be pissed that he lost the bet!"
"Bet? What, did he think I'd let it all die?"
"Yep."
"What was the bet?"
"A blowjob"
"Bull shit. That's gross. He's your sister!" I
laughed then shuddered.
"Eeew! That is a gross thought! Not from him, from
that Rent-A-Stud we told you about that we watched in action
last winter in Aspen."
"No way! Really?"
"Way! And I'm gonna collect on it!"
"What was the bet?"
"That Michael's gardens would be dead and weed-filled
by the 4th for your annual party. Joshua was certain of
this. I said that you'd never let it happen. Loser has to
pay for an hour with the Stud."
Instead of pissing me off like I thought it would, it
made me laugh. I guess I'm not as predictable as everyone
thinks. And Carlo was right; Josh was going to be real
pissed.
"Well, you're welcome. Glad to be of help!" His smile
matched my own as we shared the joy of tweaking Joshua's
normal smugness at always needing to win, to be right.
"He's meeting me here anytime now so he's gonna see
that it's time to call his accountant!"
"Don't you guys ever think of using the phone? What if
I wasn't here?"
"Honey, you're always here."
Hmm. Yeah, well . . .
"Why are you meeting here? Where are you going after
here?"
"No where. We're meeting here to . . . never mind.
Just wait till he gets here."
Fuckers. Now what? It wasn't Michael's birthday or
deathday and they all actually missed our anniversary 10
days ago, thank the gods! I guess it didn't really matter.
I hadn't seen either of them for a couple of weeks. Roxey,
our great friend from our circle, had the gang over to her
place two weeks ago to officially open her balcony for the
season. It was good to see everyone, but I didn't much feel
like staying and left after a short while, much to
everyone's protest.
I took another long draught of my gin. At least it was
Saturday and I would have time to recover from whatever they
had planned before work on Monday.
The shout from inside the house caused my eyes to roll
and me to shake my head.
"Cunts! You bitches could have at least waited for me!"
Joshua.
"And where's my cocktail? My blood-alcohol levels have
fallen drastically. I'm starting to tremble, but then
that's probably because of the shirtless god that just ran
by your house, all nice and sweaty. His ass was like
marble!!!" Joshua skittered out onto the patio and dropped
into the Adirondack lounger opposite Carlo and me.
"Damn Girl, you're looking pretty godly yourself,
sitting there with no shirt and all pumped up."
Giancarlo chuckled and I shook my head. "What do you
want to drink Joshey? Gin, Vodka, a Cosmo?"
"Don't call me Joshey! You know I'll hurt you. And
no, not a Cosmo. It's 80 fucking degrees out here. Damn
Marcus, you are so out of practice at hosting! Fix me a Long
Island Iced Tea. Please. Thanks."
I rose grabbing both my glass and Carlo's and turned to
the door when I heard Joshua wolf whistle at me. I ignored
him as I usually do then heard his whispered comment to
Carlo.
"Damn! Our sister is studdin' out on us."
"Yeah, and he doesn't even realize it." Carlo returned
in a hiss.
I continued to the bar and wondered what they were
talking about. I set the glasses down and went into the
bathroom to check the mirror. Hmm, I guess I am a little
thinner. I hadn't paid much attention over the past while.
And my pecs and arms were a little more defined. Well . . .
I guess they're not tits anymore.
With a satisfied smile I returned to the deck with the
drinks and sat down, propping my feet on the center low
table. "So Joshey, what do you think of the gardens?
They're not too bad for a faggot, eh?"
Giancarlo sputtered in his drink and sprayed the gin
across the deck. His laughter matched my shit-eating grin.
Joshua looked at us and said, "You're both cunts! You know
that don't you? Smelly, sloppy cunts!" He gulped a big
swallow of the tea and tilted his chin in a self-righteous
action.
"Yeah, so. The gardens look just fine. There, are you
happy now?"
"Oh don't be mad Joshey" Carlo jeered while Joshua
glared; eyes narrowed and fixed on Carlo. "Look at it this
way, the gardens get to live another day, I get to fuck the
Rent-a-Stud for nothing, and you won't even miss the $200
bucks it'll cost you. You've got more money than a bank!
Everybody wins."
"I suppose." Joshua's lips pursed then broadened into
a grin. "There were more people siding with me on the bet
than with Carlita. In fact, only Stefan was on your side
with Ms. Giancarlo. He said he was certain that the gardens
and houseplants would not only survive, but flourish;
typical German certainty. I concede. I'm gladly proven
wrong."
I laughed, head back and howling. "You mean everyone
was in on this bet? And they all thought I would play the
Grim Plant Reaper? What a gas! I'll have to thank Stefan
for his support."
"Well you can thank him in person. They want to fly in
for your garden party. When is it, by the way?."
"Really? That's great! Wow, Stefan hates to fly! But
I'm not having a party this year."
"What?" blasted Carlo. "You always have the party.
C'mon Marcus, enough's enough!"
"What's that supposed to mean . . . enough of what?" I
bristled at his words. I knew what he meant, but suddenly I
didn't feel like letting it go. I was suddenly so sick of
listening to all of them pussy foot around, hinting that its
time to move on and that Michael's not coming back. Enough!
I know that better than any of them.
"Living your fucking monk, widow life. That's what I
mean honey and you know it."
Joshua sat quietly watching us. The hairs on the back
of my neck raised.
"You know how much I love you Marcus but you aren't
moving on. Admit it so we can move to the next subject."
"And that would be what exactly? Arranging for me to
get fucked by the hooker? Setting me up with those inane
and probably horrid blind dates you tried last winter? I'm
doing just fine goddamnit, so just stop mothering me. It
hasn't even been a year for fuck's sake and you two think I
should just be out there fuckin' around or better yet,
making plans to marry some faggot or another. Who would
even fuckin' want me? Huh? It's not like I have anything
at all to offer someone. Christ! Just drop it would you?"
My anger, irrational as it may have been, blew my
response way out of proportion, but at that point I could
have cared less.
In a barely contained voice, Carlo responded under his
breath, "Well I'm glad we decided today to do this. It's
long overdue."
God! Their secrets and plotting were wearing thin! "Do
what for fuck's sake? Huh?"
Both of my friends sat quiet for a moment and caught
each other's eyes. Carlo gave a slight nod to Joshua then
looked at me. When Joshua spoke, his words were soft yet
forceful.
"We came here today to do an intervention with you."
I looked at him with shock and disbelief. I went to
tell them to fuck off, but Joshua held up his hand, stopping
me.
"You just keep your curses to yourself for the time
being Ms. Faggot. We are your absolute best friends and
right now you sure as hell are going to listen to what we
have to say. If when we're finished you want to tell us to
fuck off and die, then we will, but not before we have our
say. Now," he took a final swallow from his near empty
glass. "we all need a refill. Carly, would you please?"
Giancarlo rose, grabbed our empty glasses and headed into
the house.
I was seething and just glared at Joshua, teeth
clenched and giving him my most menacing stare. "You guys
are so fucked up. I believe interventions," I spat the
word, "are supposed to be alcohol and substance free?"
"Don't be so cuntish, Honey. You know we're all
alcoholics. Well, you used to be and need to be again." His
lips puckered briefly in his `I'm so funny' grin. "Let's
just wait for Madam Giancarlo, ok?"
"Fine. It's your pony show."
We continued to stare at each other as he lit a
cigarette, offering me one. I declined. "Grab me an
ashtray. Please. Thanks!" Carlo gave a grunt in response.
Once we were again settled with full glasses in hand,
Joshua began.
"Honey, you don't go out, you never leave the house
except for work, the gym and Homo Depot. Everyone is
worried! Roxey was so hurt last week when you left not even
an hour after you arrived. You won't join us for drinks at
J.R.'s, my friend at the gym you work out in says you never
talk to anyone anymore, you have to be drug out kicking and
screaming just for dinner at Decisions . . . and by the way,
they all are asking about you." I rolled my eyes thinking
of the flapping queens that worked at the gay restaurant we
frequented.
"Don't roll those baby blues at me. You've closed
yourself off from everyone but Carly and I and that's only
because we refuse to let you. You're my best friend, my
intimate in all things except sex and I miss you horribly.
It's like you died along with Mikey. I feel like I've lost
my best friend. And I don't mean Mike. I miss him too.
I've never known a happier spirit than Michael. Carlo feels
the same. We all do. And we all agreed that we wouldn't
descend on you in mass and talk about this. You made it all
too plain to us, after the fact, when we showed up for
Michael's birthday, that you thought it was boorish and
insufferable to be treated like an invalid. Well, we love
you but you are an invalid. You're like a patient in a
mental ward lock up because you won't move on even after the
doctor has given you your release."
He paused in his diatribe and sucked down a pull on the
cigarette. Exhaling, he sipped from his glass and looked at
Carlo. Tag, your turn, I thought.
"Honey, it's not just the things Josh has said, it's
your health too. I know you've been at the gym religiously,
but I've looked in your cupboards, they're bare. You get
along with just the bare amount of food you need to get by.
You haven't cooked us one of your fabulous dinners since he
died. And you've told me about your headaches . . . honey,
you need to eat more and you need to eat better things. And
you need to get laid big time!" His last point was made
with a shake of his pointer finger in my face.
I sniffed then smirked at him. "And how would you know
that mister know-it-all? I take care of myself just fine.
I've fucked five guys last winter, so there, you don't know
shit!" That was a lie, but I didn't care.
"Bullshit! You fucking liar!" That pissed him off.
"You haven't been with anyone since Michael died over nine
months ago. Except maybe on the internet. That's all you
do, read those fucking stories and jack off to your fantasy
world." He took a drink and continued, interrupting my
scathing retort before it began. "Don't lie Marcus. We
know you too well." Christ, I'd had enough!
"So fuckin' what if I haven't been with a guy since
August. Michael and I weren't screwing either. For years!"
My anger had swelled to a point that I knew I couldn't or
wouldn't try to contain it. "So what if I haven't been with
some other faggot! They're not missing anything! And
neither am I!" I shouted. "Why the fuck would I want to go
to bed with some stud when all I'd be good for is being a
cumdump, huh? If I wanted to be embarrassed I can think of
a lot of other things to accomplish the task. For Fuck's
sake, lay off!" Tears of rage were pooling in my eyes. I
couldn't see Joshua or Carlo clearly so I blinked and
grabbed Josh's pack of cigarettes. Quickly lighting one, I
drew a deep drag of the acrid smoke that I had given up
years ago.
"What do you mean all you would be is a cumdump? Look
at you! Your body is becoming better than mine; you're
leaving me in the dust muscle-wise. And I know you have a
great cock . . ." I jerked to look at him. "Don't look at
me so shocked. Did you forget the night you and Michael had
that fight and we drunkenly picked up that hottie at the
Dogpound? So I know what you're packing."
"What you're obviously forgetting in that alcohol-
impaired memory is that I was the one that got fucked that
night by the hottie. You may have fucked him but I didn't.
I couldn't, not with a limp noodle for a dick. So don't go
on about what a stud I am."
They both looked at me, the realization of my words
dawning on them.
"That's right. I'm impotent! And have been for close
to four years. Now, are you happy? Huh? Fuck!"
The silence following my declaration was tense,
uncomfortable, stifling. I crushed out the cigarette and
sucked down a large gulp of gin. My head was turned away
from them as my mind bitterly regretted sharing my secret,
my shame with them. But I was so angry with them for
pushing me so far!
"Well," began Joshua, "I think we all should just rise
to the occasion and take matters into our own hands, as it
were!"
That's it!
"Fuck! You!" I jumped up, throwing the lighter I'd
been holding fiercely in my hand at Joshua and stomped down
the steps to the lower patio. "I've had enough of this shit.
Go away and leave me alone!"
"Damn it Joshua," Carlo swore. "Do you always have to
be so stupid?" Carlo followed me down the steps and grabbed
me in a bear hug from behind. "You're not kicking us out
and we're not leaving."
I struggled against him, but my rage was spent. The
final release came with moving from the chair I'd felt
imprisoned in. My head swam from the nicotine as my anger
turned to tears and I started crying in Carlo's arms. He
simply turned me around and held me. The feeling of his
strength and love surrounded me. Joshua joined us in the
embrace as all my self-loathing and doubt at my impotence
gushed out in stuttered gasps.
"I feel so . . . embarrassed. I feel so stunted,
blocked all the time. I think about it constantly." My
tears continued.
"I don't know how you feel Marcus" began Carlo, "but I
do know you are being way too hard . . . uh, I mean rough on
yourself. Cut yourself some slack, man."
Joshua groaned in our embrace and started chuckling. I
looked up at Carlo with a beginning smile at his unawareness
of his words.
"What?" Then he realized what he'd said and we all
started laughing uncontrollably. We fell apart as I started
gasping for breath due to the laughter. I finally raised up
and thumped Carlo on the back.
"I don't think that I need anymore slack Carly!" That
caused another round of hysterics and eventually made it
back to our chairs.
The previous scene had been too intense for much
drinking. Now, I sipped my drink, lit another cigarette,
and thought about what I had to say.
"Look guys, I do hear what you're saying. I know I've
been a little reclusive lately."
Carlo snorted and Joshua gave a piff. "Ok, I've become
a hermit, but I'll work on it. You two coming here to quote
`intervene' . . .". I sighed, not sure what I wanted to say,
but went on regardless. "Well, it just means everything to
me. You know how much I love you both and we make a hellofa
set of queer musketeers! I promise I won't hide out any
longer, ok?"
"Great! Then I'm throwing a huge party for you! It'll
be your `I'm Coming Out Finally Again' party! I'll even
hire the Rent-a-Stud for your exclusive enjoyment!!! He'll
prime your pump, I guarantee it!"
All I could do was groan.
The week before the party was miserably hot.
Temperatures soared into the nineties and I was thankful
that Joshua had planned the party at his penthouse. There
was tons of room and lots of air conditioning. Plus he had
his second kitchen he used for parties and the like. Joshua
was loaded and loved to spend it on his friends. He'd
arranged for the event to be catered and had asked me to
help coordinate not just the food part but also the wait
staff. There were over a hundred people invited so we had
planned for three wait staff from the catering company. The
owner of the company would actually handle everything, so
all I had to do was choose the menu. Joshua had used his
services many times before so I chose the food from a menu
faxed to me and spoke with the owner on the phone. He
seemed pleasant enough and assured me that everything would
be handled flawlessly.
The party officially started at eight the next evening.
People I hadn't seen in almost a year kept telling me how
good I looked. It was so bad it got to the point that I
would just smile at them and give some nonsense response.
After about an hour and a half and just as the party really
got underway, I felt the first stirrings of wanting to be by
myself surface. They were overdue.
Everyone was having a great time laughing and drinking.
But I felt so alone. I'd truly worked hard in the past
month at opening myself back up and acclimating myself to
thinking about being around the crowd without Michael, but
it was all for shit once I was actually faced with the
reality. Plus this gorgeous blonde, muscled and strutting
his stuff, wouldn't leaven me alone. I was flattered, but I
knew I hadn't changed that much. It was the same ole story
. . . all interest, but no action on the part of my dick. I
wasn't going to put myself in that situation again. Don't
get me wrong, I loved getting fucked and I loved anything
oral, but I also wanted it in return and I just knew that
the whole thing would be a disappointment.
I'd just brushed off the blonde stud for the third time
when I glanced across the room and saw Giancarlo and Joshua
shaking their heads. Now what? Then I spied Joshua as he
appeared to direct someone across from him. It seemed he
was telling someone to `go back'. My eyes followed his
gesture and I saw he was signaling to the blonde hunk. The
hunk kind of raised his hands in a futile gesture, then
nodded briefly and turned back towards me.
It finally hit me! God! How could I have been so
stupid? Those Bastards! Those fucking, old, meddlesome
faggots! They'd hired the Rent-a-Stud after all, after
promising me emphatically that they wouldn't. The Cunts!
Well, I'd show them.
I walked up to the stud as he stared at me, obviously
trying to think of another strategy to get me into the sack.
I grabbed his startled face in both hands and laid a huge
wet kiss on him. His eyes went wide as my tongue blasted
through the entrance of his mouth and he moaned, then
grabbed my ass and pulled me to him. The kiss was intense,
granted, but for me it was more of an "I'll show them"
thing. When I pulled back from him, he said with more that
a little surprise in his previously sultry voice, "Wow! Now
we're talking."
I just smirked at him and shook my head.
"No we're not. The gigs up. What's your name?"
"What? What gig?" His eyes danced, knowing that he'd
been busted.
"Enough now. What's your name"
"Michael," he said, looking into my eyes. I dropped my
hands from his face and shook my head in disgust.
My reaction surprised him and he grabbed my shoulder
with one hand and my chin with the other, directing my gaze
back to him.
"What? That's my name. Do you want it to be something
else?" His response was sincere, or he was a great actor on
top of being a call boy.
I shook my head once and said, "No Michael, sorry.
Your name is fine. I just am not interested. So you can go
anytime you want. Just charge that Bitch Joshua the full
price, ok?" I tried to pull away from him, but he stopped
me again.
"Look Marcus, you're a really hot guy. I don't get
many chances to get with guys like you. Call it an
occupational hazard." His perfect grin of sparkling white
teeth and azure flecked eyes almost did me in! "Josh shared
with me your little problem and I'm certain we can make
everything work out just fine. I'm really very good!"
I barely saw his smile this time because I was seeing
red! My cheeks flamed bright pink with embarrassment and my
eyes flashed pure hatred. Michael jerked back and said,
"Please stud, forget I said anything." The pleading in his
words actually reached through my anger. "I just want to
get it on with you. Let's get out of here." His head
nodded towards the front door.
"No. Sorry. Not today." His face fell and his
shoulders sagged. "Trust me, it's not you. I just need to
get out of here and be alone." I glared at the pair of my
best friends that were fixedly watching the scene from
across the way. They quickly turned away as I returned my
focus on the Rent-a-Stud. "I'm flattered, really. But I
need to slug my two supposed best friends in the mouth and
then I'm gone."
I touched his flawless cheek softly and turned towards
the door, leaving the roar of the party behind.
Waiting at the elevator I saw Jon, the caterer,
struggling with a number of boxes in his arms. Jumping
forward I offered to help him carry something and his face
showed sincere gratitude.
"You bet, Bud. Three events in one night has spread my
staff a little thin." He allowed me to take the top box,
very heavy indeed, off the stack. "Thanks! I think this
elevator must be stuck or something and there was nowhere to
lean the load against."
"No problem Jon. Glad I came out."
"Yeah, what are you doing? Leaving?"
"Yeah, it's past time I did. Not much used to crowds
anymore. Plus I could just kill Joshua and Carlo at the
moment."
"What happened? You all looked like you were having
such a fun party. Hell, it's starting to really get going
in there. You should go back and have fun! The party's in
your honor, isn't it?"
His gray eyes searched mine as his head tilted in
question. I was struck by how handsome he was. Firm jaw,
nice smile, somewhat squared forehead and those eyes! Like
multi-hued crystals set in a solid grey backdrop. Stunning.
I could lose myself in his eyes and never find my way back
out. Who'd want too!
His smile shook me from my momentary trance and I
realized I hadn't answered him. Where was that elevator
anyway? Just then Joshua's door opened and Michael, the
Rent-a-Stud stepped out into the hall, closing the door
behind him. God, he was good looking! The elevator made
the decision to arrive just as he turned towards us.
Jon and I stepped in and we heard Michael yell for us
to hold the door. Jon managed to work a hand free and hold
the open button until the blonde stud slid through the
opening saying thanks. As the doors closed, Michael moved
close to me as I stood holding the box against the handrail.
He looked at me with a quizzical expression on his face then
grinned his "grin" that I'm certain made for great tips in
his line of work.
"You're serious about leaving, huh?"
"Yeah, enough's enough. Josh pay you your full fee?
He better have, he's loaded and it was his own fucking fault
and decision to waste the money."
Michael arched his eye at me in mock surprise.
"Not that I'm sure you're not worth every dollar, but
he knew I didn't want you there."
"Well," Michael started with a small laugh, "he was a
little pissed that I failed to score with you, but a deal's
a deal. Full payment's on his card whether or not I could
interest you. No tip, but who's complaining." Again the
grin! "Are you sure you're not interested? I suddenly find
myself with my evening free! No pun intended!"
We both chuckled at his comment and I glanced at Jon
across the elevator. He was trying not seem like he was
listening, but c'mon, he only stood three feet away. His
raised eyebrows brought a further smile to my face. Then,
the bell chimed for the first floor and the elevator slowed
to a halt. Michael stepped out of the elevator and turned
back to me, his hand preventing the door from closing.
"I'm very serious when I say I'd love a tumble with you
Marc. Maybe I could call sometime and see if we could start
over without all the business crap between us?" His eyes
pleaded with me not to reject him. How could I? He was
just a fucking god!
"Uh, yeah, uh . . . let's see what happens. Josh knows
where to find me. That is if I don't kill him first."
Michael's smile stunned me yet again as he leaned in,
kissed me lightly on the lips and winked. "Great! See ya
soon!" Then he turned, crossed the lobby with his
incredibly long legs and so very munchable ass flexing and
disappeared into the night through the main door.
Jon burst into laughter as we stood there with boxes
propped on the rail, his finger on the hold button. "Was
that what I think it was?"
I laughed and nodded yes. We hauled our boxes through
the door and headed to the service garage. "You guys sure
know how to throw a party!"
Following a still chuckling Jon I couldn't help but
notice his own very shapely ass jutting out beneath the
white apron string wrapped around his slender, manly waist.
Man! Did I ever love to gawk at a hot looking ass in
motion!
We deposited the boxes next to his van and when he
turned to me, smiling wide from enjoyment of what he'd just
witnessed, I again was stunned by his rugged beauty. His
cheek bones accented the laugh lines running out of the
corner of his eyes and his smile illuminated his face. His
full lips pulled tight in a knowing grin.
"I take it he was supposed to be Joshua's idea of a
door prize for you tonight?"
"More like a bed prize" I grinned back at him, blushing
brightly, the heat running back to my ears.
"You're blushing Marc. What a riot!"
"Yeah, this whole night has been a real crack up!
"So can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, why not. I couldn't possibly be more
embarrassed than I already am."
He laugh again. "Oh don't worry about it. I can't say
I'm any connoisseur when it comes to guys, but he was a
pretty good look guy! Why didn't you go with him?"
My blush spread anew across my face. Like I'm gonna
explain to this hunk that I can't get it up.
"Well, it just wouldn't have worked out to our mutual
satisfaction Jon."
"What's that mean? I'm not the best with subtleties."
Boy, he just wasn't going to let this drop! "Uh, I
have a little . . . uh, problem that would have prevented us
from both enjoying the festivities." Now, that should
settle it!
Jon's face suddenly darkened and his eyes darted to
mine. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had AIDS.
Man! I can really put my foot in it, can't I? I'm sorry!"
I almost laughed! "No, no, no. It's not AIDS. Shit!
I'd be in real mess then, wouldn't I. No, I'm HIV negative
and plan to stay that way."
"Well, I don't mean to pry, but I saw your desire for
the guy. I'm telling you, it was on your face as plain as
the ring on my finger." I quickly glanced at his hand and
saw a wedding ring right there in plain sight. How could I
have missed that? The guy was straight! Duh?! Fuckin'
Joshua! What's he doing hiring a straight caterer?
Especially one as studly and masculine as Jon?
My thoughts were interrupted by Jon's continued
conversation. "So what gives Marc? Was he too good
looking? Too aggressive? What? I don't spend much time
experiencing you gay guys. But I have to admit from what I
have seen, I love the way you don't have any hang-ups with
getting it on. You like . . . fuck and find out names
later."
I chuckled at his straight man reference. Fuck it,
what's it matter anyway?
"Well in some ways you hit the nail on the head. But
it's not just that guy, it's all guys. They all overwhelm
me to a point of . . . uh . . . softness, if you will."
Jon looked at me, a perplexed expression crossing his
mien. Then his face brightened and his eyes widened. Uh,
oh. Here it comes, I thought.
"Oh! You're impotent!"
Slam! Fuck! Well you couldn't be anymore blunt than
that.
"Bummer," he continued. "That's a bitch! And trust me,
I know what you're feeling bud. Kinda stuck, blocked, huh?"
Flies could have nested in my mouth it was hanging open
so wide. Was he telling me that he too was impotent? Knock
me over with a feather!
"You too?" I asked incredulously. He grinned wryly and
opened the rear van doors.
"Yeah, once. It happened after my wife died two years
ago. This one woman was the hottest thing on two legs and I
couldn't get it up to save my life or my ego. I had all the
desire in the world, but it wasn't connecting with my
equipment. It's worked fine since then, but in truth I
haven't be much in the mood for another go for over a year
now. I think the problem then was doing it with someone
other than my wife. Now, there's no problem, I just decided
there has to be feelings involved. Make sense?"
I nodded, handing him a box as he loaded through the
open van doors. "It's been almost four years for me."
"Really? A well-built guy like you?"
"Well, I haven't but recently been this in shape. I
was overweight for many years. That is part of it I think."
"Well, all I can think to say to you is hang in there.
Maybe the right guy will come along and you'll know it's
just right. Who knows," his eyes twinkling, appearing to
hide a secret or something, "you might have even met him
already!"
I laughed and said, "Damn! And I'll bet I missed him!"
We both laughed and then he went to light a cigarette
and I asked him for one. I could hear my Michael tisk-
tisking in my mind.
We sat on the back edge of his van, both doors open and
smoked a number of cigarettes. He had a six pack of beer in
a cooler so we shared a couple and talked for probably a
half hour or more. Finally, Jon said he had to get back
upstairs and check on everything.
"C'mon, go back and enjoy yourself. Slug Joshua
tomorrow. If I know him at all, he doesn't even realize
what he did was embarrassing."
"You're right about that. He's such a pig sometimes."
Later that night, I lay in my bed with my head
spinning, but not because of drinking too much. Granted,
I'd had my share of cocktails after returning with Jon to
the party. But they weren't making my head spin, nor my
heart for that matter. Rather, it was the thoughts of Jon
that kept flashing before my eyes that kept me from falling
asleep.
I found it hard to believe how much I'd enjoyed the
time in the garage with Jon. He was truly an amazing guy!
Soft spoken at times, ruggedly manly at others like when he
shared with me the story of when one of his gay waiters was
harassed by a couple of drunk, straight guys at an event
he'd catered. The straights were calling him fag and
cocksucker. He intervened, even ending up in a quick brawl
with one of them. The allure found in listening to Jon
share the story soared as his voice sharpened and his
mannerisms seemed to butch up. He didn't have a clue as to
how attractive he became then. And shortly after relating
that story to me he shared about his wife's fatal aneurism
with the softest of tones in his voice. I shared about
Michael's death and he seemed genuinely concerned about how
recent it was and said he understood my fears of letting the
gardens die. He said the plants were tied to our life
together and now they needed to keep me going and growing as
well, to keep Michael alive in my heart. Amazing, who'd
have thought a straight guy could show such depth of emotion
and understanding.
Later, during the party, he kept coming over and
talking to me. He was full of wit and laughter and made me
truly enjoy myself even though I fought to retained my
reluctance to do the same. Roxey was bowled over by Jon and
his whole demeanor, looks included. She told me twice
before she passed out on Joshua's couch that Jon was
interested in me. And Giancarlo nodded his agreement. But
I just couldn't see it. He was straight for God's sake.
And had confessed earlier to wanting "feelings" with a woman
before he did the deed! That just doesn't compute to a win-
win situation in bed, even if I could persuade his straight-
man appetites with a hard dick , which wasn't very likely on
a number of points. I was exhausting myself just thinking
about everything.
Finally, the events of the day and the alcohol caught
up with me and I succumbed to a deep sleep.
The phone blared in my ear as I lurched awake from deep
within dreamland. The sunlight was brightly pouring through
my window because I'd forgotten to draw the curtain. My
head pounded and I quickly grabbed the handset before it
could screech again.
"Joshua, you bitch! I'm still not talking to you.
How could you call so early?"
A pause answered my dry growl, then a slight, deep-
throated chuckle.
"Well good morning to you too, Sunshine. At least I
think it's still morning." More laughter, familiar . . .
uh, shit!
"Jon?"
"Well, that's pretty quick for eleven o'clock in the
morning!"
"Eleven! How'd that happened?"
"You're asking me? I've been up since seven. You must
have tied one on last night after we packed up and left."
His chuckle sent a churning through my stomach. Or it was
all the gin I'd drank the night before!
I yawned loudly, unable to stop myself. My body was
trying to wake up fully. Not that my heart hadn't jumped
started when I realized Jon was on the other end of the
line.
"What's up Jon? What's going on?" How'd you get my
number was the real question I wanted to ask, followed
closely by and why are you calling me?
"I know this is pretty weird sounding, but I wanted to
see if you'd have a late breakfast or early lunch with me?"
His voice clear and solid and sounding as wonderful as I
remembered it from last night.
"Uh, sure!" Oh my God! What is this all about?
"Oh Great! You said you lived over by City Park,
right? Why don't we meet at Pete's Kitchen then? Would that
work?"
"Yeah, sure, uh . . . I need a little time," I yawned
loudly again. "Sorry, I need some time to pull myself
together. When were you thinking?"
"How about a half hour?" My eyes glanced at the clock
next to the bed.
"11:30?"
"See ya then. And don't worry about how you look. I
can't imagine you looking bad anytime." And he hung up.
What the Fuck was that?! My heart was pounding like a
newbe faggot getting ready to give his first blow job. My
head plopped back again the pillow and I exhaled in a rush.
I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath!
Get a grip Marcus! You're way too old of a faggot to
be gushing like this! Then I lunged out of bed and ran to
the bathroom. Let's hope I can pull myself together in
record time like the old days!
The line to get into Pete's wasn't as bad as I thought
it would be. I'd gotten there in less than 25 minutes and
just been seated when I saw Jon through the windows begin to
cross Colfax from the north. His stride was strong, sure,
and his face had an amazing grin, contented and relaxed. He
really was a wet dream walking!
As he approached the window he saw me at the table and
gave a quick wave followed by an eager, dazzling smile.
Then he was approaching the table. His navy shorts accented
the muscular, hairy legs as he strode towards me. His
white, sport casual shirt had both buttons undone and hung
from his chest loosely without being tucked into the
waistband. The muscled forearms I'd notice the previous
evening swung confidently in stride with his steps.
Sunbeams from the arched atrium windows caught golden hues
in his foppish hair. Stunning package, stunning
presentation! I'm surprised I remembered to stand as he
reached the table.
I offered my hand with a `hello again', but he ignored
both while he continued his approach, missing his intended
chair. I looked into his sparkling eyes quickly and saw a
glint of humor mixed with resolve. Part of my attention
turned from his eyes to see his hands reaching for my face.
And then they connected. His lips followed his hands and he
kissed me solidly, longingly, yet chastely. When he pull
back from me to grin at my dumbfounded expression, I gasped
loudly and heard a wolf whistle from a table of guys behind
us. Family.
"Good morning Sunshine." His grin widened into an
electric smile. "Hope you don't mind my greeting. I've
wanted to do that since the garage last night."
I stuttered something lame like, `no, not at all' and
dropped into my seat. The guys behind us called for Jon to
give them their morning kiss. He just smiled and waved,
then sat opposite me across the table. Boy! Straight man
confidence is amazing to watch in action.
My shock turned into pleasure and my face reflected it
with a grin of my own.
"Is that a normal straight boy greeting on a Sunday
morning? Or maybe it's the greeting reserved for after
eleven? That must be it?"
"Did you mind it that terribly?" his feigned pout
flopped miserably as the laughter in his eyes won out over
the pout. "Look Marcus, I know that was probably more than
weird for you." I snorted. "But I just had to do that,
just like I had to see you this morning. I've been up since
seven, pacing around my loft waiting for an appropriate hour
to call Joshua for your number. I mean, I've . . . not
stopped thinking about you all night. And to tell you the
truth, I'm as weirded out about this as you must be. I mean
. . . shoot, you're another guy!"
He looked around the restaurant and realized no one was
watching any longer. He lean forward across the table and
gestured for me to do the same. His voice was playful in
its softness. "I think I have a crush on you." Then smiled
and sat back, satisfaction on his face. I just looked at
him, frozen in my same spot over the table.
What was wrong with me? Why didn't I say something?
Christ! I had another jolt in my groin and my ass clenched
when I watched his lips say he had a crush on me. Another
jolt? Oh fuck, that's right! When he kissed me my groin
felt like it lurched! Oh man! I'm fucking hard! I looked
down at my crotch to see the shorts tented upward and to the
left as my ass clenched again.
Jon pulled me from my awe-filled musings. "Look, I
haven't felt anything . . . for anyone for two years now.
And certainly I never expected to feel this way about a
guy!" His eyes clouded briefly, then as though a decision
was confirmed, they brightened again and glowed warmly at
me. "I don't get why I've had butterflies in my stomach
since the garage last night and I don't get why I kept being
drawn back to wherever you were at the party as it
progressed and I don't get why I kept wanting to make you
laugh or impress you with my wit. I don't get it. I'm . .
. shit! You're another guy! But just like with me pacing
around my house last night and this morning. . . I don't get
that either. I mean, my voice actually trembled when I
asked Joshua for your number this morning. And it didn't
help to hear Roxey, I think it was, in the background
saying, `I told you he was interested in Marcus'.
I grinned upon hearing Jon relate that and then I
grinned wider because my heart was getting ready to explode!
But I kept quiet because I could tell he wasn't yet
finished.
"I don't get any of this. But what I do get?" he
paused then reached across the table and gently laid his
palm against my cheek. "What I do get is that you're the
reason for all this craziness of the last 14 or so hours.
And you're the reason I felt my dick lurch in my slacks last
night as we sat in the van doorway and why it's hard now,
sitting here after finally kissing you. You're the reason
Marc. I'm not sure what to do with any of this but I know,
at least I think I know after watching you now, that maybe
you might feel the same." His gaze locked solidly with
mine. "Do you?"
All I could muster as I looked into the spinning, azure
flecks of his eyes was to sigh, gently. I swallowed and
tried to speak, but found no words coming forth. So I
nodded slowly, repeatedly. His smile beamed at me! He
caressed my cheek one last time then withdrew his hand.
Finally, words formed in my mind. "I'm as confused as
you are Jon. I mean, you're a straight man, right?" He
gave me a slight, uncertain and hesitant shrug in response.
His eyes shared my own uncertainty.
"I'll give you one thing though; you're the reason for
my own butterflies and the hardon in my shorts, which stuns
me by the way." I grinned and my blush suffused my cheeks.
"I haven't been hard like this, simply by a kiss and being
able to look into the eyes of an absolutely gorgeous man,
for years. Years, Jon! And I can't blame it on anyone
else. So do I feel the same as you?" I stopped and
swallowed without breaking eye contact. "Simply? Yes. And
I don't know what we do from here either."
Just then my stomach growled loudly. Jon's lips broke
into a huge grin and said, "Well then, I think my Sunshine
needs a little food in his stomach. I can handle that one."
He stood in a crouch and leaned across the table, bringing
his lips to mine in a gentle brush. "Wanna order something
now?"
"Sure. Coffee. Lots of it! I've never eaten with a
woody before."
The boys at the table behind us applauded. My blush
deepened and Jon's smile spread even brighter still.
I was in a cloud-filled daze the rest of the afternoon.
Jon had left after eating because he had an Event set up at
four-thirty that afternoon and he needed to organize the
equipment and inspect the food being prepared by his chef.
I was due at Roxey's apartment for dinner around six.
Jon had asked me and I'd agreed to accompany him on his
setup. He said it should only take about an hour and then
he'd be free. I'd asked if he'd like to join us at Roxey's
and his nod and grin gave all the answer I needed. I called
and quickly informed her that there would be an extra person
joining us tonight. I hung up quickly, cutting off the
immediate questions. Then I changed into my work shorts and
headed out to the gardens to do a little pruning. I needed
something to do so I could think without trying to and just
let my mind wander.
The foremost thought in my mind was my memory of the
restaurant and the erection I not only raised from the
depths of where the Titanic lay, but how long I sustained
it. How did that happen? Even with Michael it was a long
shot at best after all of our years together and I'd not
remained hard enough to do the deed for years. We would
have great sessions with each other, but never with me on
top. I was stumped. Then a thought wafted through my mind
with the softness of an angel's feathers, Jon's an
incredible stud that has the hots for you. Enough thinking.
Go and enjoy every minute with him.
I paused for a moment, stunned, then gently smiled.
Michael.
I clipped a few roses in bloom to take into the house
and thought of giving one to Jon, then blushed at the
thought. This though was what the gardens were all about,
weren't they? Hadn't Michael brought me in single roses
because of the simply joy he said it brought to my face and
in turn, brought to his heart. It was about giving a bit of
joy because he was thinking of me. I smiled as I placed the
flowers in a vase, setting one apart for later.
The doorbell rang as I finished dressing. Jon was on
time, certain to be eager to get to his setup. I felt the
butterflies swarm again as I reached to open the door.
He stood there in khaki slacks and a brilliant white
cotton Dior long sleeve, cuffs open, shirt untucked at the
waist and hanging. His smile lit the door way as I handed
him the single rose. He looked back quickly to me and
reaching for my waist, drew me to his lips. The kiss
electrified me and left me breathless. I pulled away after
we finished in time to see Jon's face in a boyish mix of a
warm smirk and a half-formed grin. He looked like he'd just
gotten away with something. Then the rose reached his nose.
"Smells wonderful, like you."
I held back a laugh and tugged the door closed behind
me.
"What's that grin for stud?" He asked, his hand
clasping mine like teenagers as we made our way to the car.
"Oh, I was just imagining all the straight women out
there now wailing into their wine spritzers about how yet
another one was compromised by the enemy. Fags Rule!"
Jon's head flopped back as his laughter brayed out.
"Oh, you think so, huh?"
"Well if that kiss was any indication along with the
huge bulge in your khakis . . . I'd have to say the odds are
definitely in my favor on this one."
He looked down at his crotch then met my eyes with that
same boyish grin. "You did this you know. You're the one
responsible."
I just laughed as he held open my car door.
The setup was as quick and easy as Jon had promised and
went off without a hitch if you don't consider that I
spilled a bowl of red sauce down my front. Jon said in a
normal voice in front of his chef and the wait staff, "Well,
I guess I'll just have to lick that off now won't I" We
both look shocked for a second then roared with laughter.
His staff's mouths dropped open in awe at what their
"straight" boss just said.
I grabbed a towel and cleaned my shorts and shirt of
the sauce as much as possible and we finished the setup
shortly there after.
Obviously, before we left for Roxey's I'd need to make
a pit stop at home for a quick change. Jon waited on the
main floor as I donned a new outfit and then asked me to
show him the gardens. During the tour he queried me time
and again what was this plant and what was that plant. I
surprised myself by rattling off the names. He was
impressed and said as much. I assured him I couldn't
remember all the names.
"That was Michael's domain."
"Well you're doing a great job by yourself. I've never
been much of a gardener," he said. "That was always Jane's
thing and she never did anything like this. Her focus was
mostly with container gardening and with the Loft and all,
that was enough. Our neighbors had some shrubs like yours
growing in a raised rectangular planter and I always
wondered what they were called. Dogwoods maybe?"
I chuckled at the mention of my notorious plant name
catch-all. "Could have been, Dogwoods do very well in
Colorado." Michael's voice whispered yes in my mind.
I took him into the house and described my efforts with
the kitchen. Jon was visibly impressed that I'd completed
it all on my own.
"Well I've still got a lot of finishing work to
complete . . . like here", I bent down to point out the
missing kick plates for the cabinets. "And here", as I
moved to the sink, leaning over to point out the exposed
wire locks and Romex. As I did, I heard a low, quiet growl
immediately behind me then felt Jon press himself against my
ass and wrap his arms around my chest. I groaned at the
feeling of his body pressed to mine.
Can I do this? What if . . .? I'll be fine. The
soothing thought drift across my fears.
Jon kissed the back of my neck and murmured something I
couldn't quite hear.
"What was that?" my voice trembling with lust and
excitement just as my body trembled as he continued to brush
his lips against my neck.
"I said, `I can't believe I'm saying this, but you need
to stop bending over in front of me like that or you might
be in for a surprise'." He rubbed his groin against my butt
cheeks and I felt his immense hardness as it surged in
response to the contact.
"I love surprises Jon."
"Really? Even Now?" He stopped caressing my neck with
his lips and I turned in his arms placing my face an inch
from his own. My breath was ragged and my chest pounded
with excitement and expectation.
"Yes. Now."
He pulled his head back from mine and looked to see if
I was serious. He saw not only sincerity in my face, but
also unmasked lust and desire. His face reflected what
mine was experiencing. Those crystal eyes wide with lust.
"I'm not sure how to do this Marc. I mean . . .I just
know I want it so badly it hurts."
"Just kiss me again stud. We'll be fine!" My mouth
was suddenly filled with his tongue as he probed and thrust
into me. I moaned around his tongue and my hands ran
rampantly over his back and waist, finally settling on his
buttocks which I grasped urgently with utter longing and
desperately pulled his body closer to mine. His penis, rock
hard behind the zipper mashed against my own. Our breaths
turned into gasps and the gasps turned into shouts as I
pushed him away from me, desperate to postpone the imminent
orgasm that had started to build.
"What? What?" his voice constrained by lust and
confusion.
"I almost shot in my shorts! Damn, Jon! I haven't been
this horny for years, but I still can't climax multiple
times like a woman or a teenage cum factory. That was
close!"
"Oh stud, I know you're all man!" I groaned again.
This was real!
"But god I want you now Jon. Now!"
He grabbed my face and again thrust his tongue into my
mouth, yet keeping our bodies apart as he maneuvered us into
the middle of the kitchen. His hand began hurriedly working
to unbutton my shirt, then giving up in futility and lifted
the light cotton over my head in one quick move. He gasped
as his eyes focused on my chest. My chest pressed outward
as his mouth attacked my nipple, biting and sucking until I
thought I'd surely pass out from the utter pleasure. He
moved to the other nipple and brought me to my toes yet
again. His hands firmly grasping my biceps and squeezing
them with equal, lustful strength as his mouth continued to
alternate between my pointed, engorged nipples. He appeared
to marvel at my chest hair like a kid with a new toy.
My hands finally achieved success as the last of his
buttons opened and I ripped the shirt from his body. My
hands raced to his chest and buried themselves in his ample
golden chest hair. His pecs filled my own hands and I
tweaked his nipples in a frenzy of lust and moans. His
mouth moved up to my neck and ravaged the tender skin,
bouncing from one side to the other, stopping briefly to
plunder my mouth, then moving on, leaving me gasping for
more.
The intensity peaked and I dropped to my knees, Jon
following me to the floor. He rolled me onto my back on the
chilled slate floor, one hand massaging my rigid member
through the material of my shorts, the other cushioning my
head from the hard stone.
"I've never felt another guy's hard dick before. It's
so hard!"
He grinned then resumed his oral plundering. His
tongue battled with mine for dominance, supremacy of the
other. I briefly won out and thrust back into his mouth as
my hands unbutton his slacks and raced in to grasp his
hidden, rigid length. My palm was instantly warmed by the
furnace of heat emitting from his penis and was covered in
liquid that flooded copiously from his slit. He groaned and
pushed himself onto his knees.
Hands, both of ours, worked to unzip and free him from
the interminable prison of his slacks. He quickly stood and
I ripped his pants and white jockeys to his ankles,
revealing him in his rigid magnificence. I was momentarily
paralyzed by his stunning body. His chest heaved, his face
a mask of lust, eyes wild. And his cock . . . jutted out
massive and full, arching slightly upward above a full and
bulging sack. His scent and musk swept into my nose and I
growled, lust-driven to near madness as my body raised up
onto my knees and my mouth gutted itself upon his length.
He buried his throbbing member to its limit as I gagged and
growled around its swollen girth. His hands pressed my head
further on to his rigid pole, grinding my face into his
pubes. His utter strength and manliness overwhelmed me and
simultaneously spurred me to further passion and lust. I
pulled off him then thrust myself back to the base, chewing
the root of his spear with abandon.
"Yes! God, YES!" he shouted as I continued my frenetic
feast.
He pulled my head off my newly acquired yet now
permanent addiction. His penis bounced up once then smacked
my face, leaving a swath of spit and essence across my eyes
and brow. "Christ Marcus! I almost lost it! I can't
believe how hot your mouth is!
I grinned in satisfaction and mischief. "Wait till you
claim my ass Stud!"
Jon groaned as he dropped to his knees, ripping my
shorts from my body and pushing me back to the floor. His
mouth enclosed my the head without hesitation as I pressed
upward into his hot and wet lips. His head moved up and
down, experiencing the taste and texture of his first cock.
His nose passionately drawing in my scent repeatedly. He
was driven onward by his lust. His hand grasped my sac and
squeezed lightly, tugging outward on them to increase his
action, stimulating me unbelievably all the more. The
effect was outrageous! I thrust up into him repeatedly, his
mouth causing me to cry out in raw ecstasy.
"Fuck your mouth! Oh Jon, that's so hot!! Watch your
teeth straight boy . . . yeah, that's it. Suck me, it's
all yours, Jon!" He groaned and then swallowed me as far as
his inexperience mouth could one last time. His mouth drew
away and my shaft slapped against my contracting abs,
bouncing back up and staying hard, rigid in its proper,
thrilling form. His hand grasped me and slid slowly,
strongly upward and down again. His mouth bathed my sac,
taking first one hairy orb then the next into his mouth,
lathing them with spit and warmth. Primal rutting noises
accented his ceaseless tongue action. Then, without
warning, Jon hoisted my legs up toward my chest and plunged
his mouth into my cleft, grunting with unrestrained,
unleashed passion. Crazed with lust, I shouted out with
startled surprise; my feral, guttural cry prolonged into a
breathless gasp. My mind and senses were stunned by his
action at my gate. His tongue quickly smashed through my
defenses, plunging into me.. His head mashed into my
pulsing cave, force further by my trembling hands. I
groaned with each thrust, knowing that I couldn't continue
at this fevered level much longer without release.
Jon must have sensed my approaching ecstasy his mouth
and hands were causing. He pulled free and grabbed his
still spit-coated organ. His eyes met mine in a paroxysm of
sheer passion and lust.
"Baby, that's incredible!" Then, panting, "I have to
have you now, Stud! Lube?"
"Yes! Now!. Use spit."
He looked uncertain. His breathing slowed. "Won't it
hurt?"
"A little, but don't worry. You gotta do it NOW!" I
cried as his eyes mastered mine. My mouth hung open in an
obscene display of wanton lust.
In response to my demand, two of his fingers entered my
hole, causing my body to lurch upward with surprise and
pleasure. "Yes! That's it!" My once again, nearly virgin
entrance welcomed his two fingers with spasms and
contractions. My lust overruled my physical discomfort as I
yelled in a deep, scratchy, gutter-born voice, "Do it Jon,
fuck me with your fingers. Get me ready for that huge dick.
Do it to me, now! Do it!"
He watched my eyes, his initially uncertain, yet never
allowing his gaze to leave mine as he continued to thrust
his fingers into me, grazing my long neglected prostate in
his inexperience and causing my organ to tremble and leak.
His other hand worked additional spit onto himself, lubing
it for his first venture into man-to-man sexual rutting at
its best.
My lips mouthed the words `Do it, Do it' to him as he
stared into my glazed, sluttish sole with eyes equally
glazed. He moved forward onto his knees and placed the
burning, rigid head to the lips of my tunnel. He looked
down and spit another load of lube onto the knob, spreading
it around my opening with his fingers. Then he pressed
forward, slowly, eyes again riveted to mine own.
I felt the initial resistance give as I pressed out
with all my focused strength and the head and shaft slipped
farther, deeper into me. The feeling was unlike anything I
ever remembered. As he moved further up my passage, his
body lowered closer to mine until, as he bottomed out, his
lips crushed onto mine and we both uttered a moan of
amazement.
"So goood!" he groaned.
The feeling in me was one of throbbing pain and
absolute thickness. Jon held still as my arched body
gradually relaxed and grew accustomed to the invading spear.
My own penis, hard and rigid, rubbed slickly against Jon's
own rigid abdominal muscles. I sighed, blissed out with the
feeling of this man pressed onto and into me. I simply
could not remember ever feeling this complete, this much
pleasure.
"Fuck Marc! You're so damn tight!" His gasp accenting
my own feeling.
"You're so big! So hard!"
Then, slowly, he began to move.
Jon's mouth again dueled with my own, this time gently,
tenderly, passionately brushing my lips with his own; his
silky tongue dancing softly. I began to emit little,
keening gasps as his hips began their rhythmic, primal
dance. His thrusts started to increase in pace and
intensity. Our bodies plunged back and forth with each
powerful thrust. His tongue demanded full access to my
mouth and I willingly submitted to the domination. I sucked
his tongue frantically as he began to pound my aching,
pleasured depths. He shifted his weight and suddenly,
thrust after thrust of his strength raped my prostate and
caused me to emit a continuous gutteral cry.
"Oh, Oh fuck, that's it! Oh Fuck! Yes, more! Harder!"
My voice, almost undistinguishable due to my mouth being
stuffed with his tongue, raved on with my incessant sexual
grunts, barely human in sound or emissions. Finally, his
pounding reached a truly super-human pace and ferocity and
his constant battering of my prostate shattered the
remaining resolve I had to make this last forever!
My chest arched upwards and my head rolled back into
the arch. I blasted fiercely between our bodies, spraying
essence upwards to cover both his chest and throat and mine
in kind. My ass muscles clamped down yet again on his
pounding sword, bringing him to the point of no return. He
bellowed his orgasm as he reared back and drove his
conquering spear one last time into the depths of my soul.
He froze and his voice growled, increasing strength and
volume till he finally ran out of breath and cried, "Marcus!
MARCUS!" His hot, searing liquid spayed my ass with its
release as he pulsed repeatedly in his shattering climax.
I threw my arms around him and forced his body back to
mine, lips pressed in gasping throws of union and release!
Finally, blissful, joyous release!!!
We collapsed in a puddle of sweat and cum, breaths
straining to return to normal.
"Oh my sweet Marcus! Oh, my hot stud, please tell me
that was real Lover!"
My heart swoon at his passionate usage of the word.
"Damn right it was! It was very real." My breathing slowed
and my legs circled tightly once again around his waist and
glutes. He slowly began to pull out of my blasted anus. I
was sore and sated. Not a bad combination. Not bad at all
considering how long it had been since I had experienced
both an incredible hands-free orgasm and a simultaneous
explosion into my thoroughly plundered hole. I was in bliss
and the god responsible was just finishing his withdrawal.
He bent down and gently kissed my leaking, inflamed
entrance, then helped me off my back and we collapsed
against the cupboards, leaning against the other, hands
clasped in shared, spent passion.
Jon turned to look at me, his eyes spent, but still
incredulous. His piercing gaze locked deep into my own as
he slowly shook his head.
"That was the most incredible sex I've ever had in my
life. Bar none Marc."
I grinned at him and sighed, slowly nodding my
agreement. "Ditto for me too! You were so hard and sure!"
"You Stud, are definitely my muse and I want more!" He
said, the mischievous grin winning out over incredulity.
I sighed contentedly then groaned at the thought. We'd
have to wait a bit for a repeat, I thought with a contented
sigh. And definitely use real lube the next time! The
warmth in my insides was going to be with me for a little
while at least.
"Oh baby, don't groan Stud. Next time it's you that'll
do the fucking. I just gotta know what its like to be taken
by that sweet piece of meat between your legs!"
I burst forth with laughter. "Are you sure you're
straight, Lover?"
He beamed at the return usage of the word. "Oh no, not
any longer, Babe, not any longer. You've cured me of that!
I've definitely swung to your side for good."
His kiss was full of laughter and love. "And I think
I'm gonna need a lot more of your kind of cure, probably
forever just to be sure it takes." His eyes and mine welled
with new love.
My cell phone, forgotten in my shorts pocket, shrieked
into the silence left by our kiss.
"That would be Joshua." We both sighed, exhausted, but
whole again.
I paused before we moved to join the rest of our
waiting clan, and gazed one last time into the mirror of his
starlit eyes and it was there, I saw, contained in his
tears, where my own release lay.
And I smiled.
The End.
(Comments can be sent to dfilchak1521@yahoo.com). Thanks
for reading.