Date: Sun, 16 May 1999 14:34:59 EDT
From: Ivrys88@aol.com
Subject: "Totaling the Balance"

TOTALING THE BALANCE (Tales from the Net series) by K. Nitsua.
Copyright 1999 by the author.

PART ONE

I'll say this for Matt, he never beat about the bush. He gave me the bad
news almost as soon as we were seated at the booth in our favorite
restaurant, the little Indian buffet place tucked away in the busy strip
mall.

"Jon, I have to tell you something," he said. "I've accepted a position
with the company in Greensboro. I'm leaving with my family at the end of
the month."

I sat there, not reacting yet. I wasn't altogether shocked by his
news. During the two years we had known each other he had talked before
about the possibility of moving. Now, it seemed, the unthinkable had come
to pass.

"I wish you would say something," Matt said.

"Well, what is there to say, Matt? I can't change your mind, can I?"

"No. Jon, this is an incredible career op for me. I really couldn't turn it
down. And Christine is overjoyed--we'll be moving back close to our
families. Her folks especially have missed seeing the kids. They--"

"Matt," I interrupted, "Give me credit for never thinking I came before
your wife and kids, okay? It's just a little hard to know that I'm not even
going to be in the running."

Matt said, "Jon--" but then fell silent. His expression was earnest,
willing me to understand. I looked at his face, the square jaw and bright
blue eyes I had come to love, though I had never said that forbidden word
to him.

"You did this on purpose, right?" I said. "You waited to tell me the bad
news until it was your turn to pick up the check. Well, it worked, I'm not
hungry now."

He relaxed a bit as he realized I was kidding him. "Do you still want to
work out on Thursday?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Christ, you're leaving in a month. You think I'm going
to pass up one of my rare opportunities to see you--naked?"

He grinned, embarrassed as always when I complimented his body. "I'll call
you to confirm, OK?"

"Sure," I replied. "Let's eat."

"I thought you said you weren't hungry."

"I never pass up a free meal from a hunky guy."

Matt laughed. "Jon, you're such a joker."

I looked him in the eye and said, "What can I do but laugh, Matt?"

It was true. The whole thing between Matthew Mulroy and me had been a
cosmic joke all along. Once in a while I would shake my head, amazed that
it had happened.

We used to argue amiably about who had started chatting to whom online, but
I'm still sure it was him who made the first move. Matt approached me
exactly as he would have a potential business client--polite, friendly but
doggedly tenacious. It worked, because he had a charm that kept me talking
to him even as I found out he was married to a woman, and had two
school-age children--everything I usually refused to have anything to do
with, online or anywhere.

It was about a month after his first message to me that we finally arranged
to meet in a cafˇ near one of the roaring commuter freeways we both used
to go to and from work. I was nervous--because I was late, for one thing,
and also, I had no idea what Matt looked like. I had e-mailed him my
picture, which sent him into what I thought was quite undeserved rapture,
but Matt had told me he didn't have one of himself. "I have to be careful,
you know," he said. Yeah, right, I thought, closet cases usually
are. Still, here I was, Jonathan Evans, Jon for short, gay, out and proud,
unattached since the death of my partner two years ago (David, rest in
peace), going to meet a man with a wife and kids who wanted to fool around
on the side with another man. As I said, he was a sweet talker.

He was a looker, too, and just as chatty and gregarious in person as he was
online. He wore khakis, neatly pressed, and a colorful shirt. "We dress
down at my company," he explained. That was fine by me, especially when he
left the table to visit the men's room and I got a good look at his small,
tight butt. Maybe that was what decided me. Maybe it was the rest of his
compact, fit body--he explained that he had been a high school track
runner.  He still entered an occasional race around town. Maybe it was his
smiling face, with its square jaw and dimples--I'm a sucker for a guy with
dimples. But I think it was what I saw after I took my turn in the restroom
and was walking back to our booth.

He was staring out the window, not seeing me yet, and there was a look of
sadness and loneliness on his unguarded face such as I hadn't seen in a
long time. He turned and saw me then and immediately flashed his smile, but
not before I'd realized I'd had a glimpse of his private hell. Yes, he was
as hot as any man I'd tricked with, Matt was--but at that moment I wanted
to help the guy as much as get my rocks off.

We didn't rush off to bed that first time, though. He had to get back home
to his family.  "I'd really like to see you again, Jon," he said outside in
the parking lot. "You're even better looking than your picture," he added
and, hopelessly captivated by then, I swallowed even that tired line.

"I think you're a attractive guy too, Matt," I said, truthfully. He shook
my hand, lingering just an instant longer than called for by a casual
meeting, and smiled into my eyes.

"I'll see you online probably," he said, after we had exchanged office
phone numbers. With that we drove off to our respective homes. I half hoped
that was the last I would hear of him. I half feared the same.

That same night he hailed me online as always. About two weeks later, we
met in another crowded, noisy restaurant, Mexican this time. Lunch was as
pleasant as our previous meal together had been. When it was over and I had
picked up the tab, over Matt's protests, we stood at the edge of the
parking lot. Conversation came to a halt as we shifted our respective
weights uneasily from foot to foot.

"So," Matt finally said, "what do you have lined up for this afternoon?"

"Don't know," I replied. I stopped there for a moment, then took the
plunge. "Actually, I've been a little stressed lately. Took the afternoon
off, but I didn't make any special plans-- I was going to go home, chill
out a bit, you know how it is."

More silence hung in the air. Then Matt spoke. "Well, Jon--you know what I
did back in the restaurant?" I looked at him inquiringly. "When I went to
the restroom, I called my office and told them I wasn't coming back in
today."

Our eyes met, then we simultaneously burst out laughing with mingled
embarrassment and relief. "Great minds think alike, I guess," I said.

Matt said, diffidently, "I guess I'm hoping you might want some company."

Jerk that I am, I let him hang in suspense for long seconds before I
answered, "Sure, Matt, that would be great." His face lit up and I felt
ashamed at having toyed with him.

"I'll follow you," he said.

Twenty minutes later we sat side by side on the couch in the living room of
my apartment.  He had refused my offer of a drink. I felt his knee touching
mine. I reached out and began to massage it through the denim, then looked
up into his face. He was gazing at me, not smiling. I raised one hand and
began to stroke his cheek with my thumb. His eyes closed and his lips
parted slightly. I leaned forward and placed my mouth on his, gently,
almost chastely. I started to withdraw but he put his hand on the back of
my head. I felt his questioning tongue on my lips and opened my own mouth
in response. For long moments we kissed, gently, sweetly.

"That was nice," he said, when we finally broke apart.

"I'll say," I replied. Matt reached up and began to unbutton my shirt.

Gentle and sweet was the way I remember that whole afternoon. It was a new
experience for me, taking things so slow--Matt was, not surprisingly, a
mixture of passion and inhibition. We sat naked on my living room floor,
his legs over mine, on a quilt I spread out, kissing and holding one
another. That way I could get a good view of his hairy chest and broad
shoulders, surprising on such a slender frame. I masturbated his hard cock,
slick with his copious secretions, while we kissed, then looked into his
eyes, dark and liquid with desire. I tried taking his nipple in my mouth
but didn't get much reaction.

"They just aren't that sensitive. Never have been," he said,
apologetically.

He stroked my cock, a bit hesitantly, and that was about as far as he
went. I was surprised that I was enjoying being with him this much,
considering we were hardly doing anything sexual in my book, but at last I
decided I wanted a little more. Pushing him down gently, I got him on his
back on the quilt. Positioning myself between his legs, I bent down and
touched my lips to the cool skin on his flat stomach, faintly fragrant with
soap. As I gradually worked my way downward, kissing and licking, I felt
him stiffen. I looked up and saw that he had raised his head. "What's the
matter?" I asked.

"I usually don't let guys do that," he said.

I sighed inwardly. For the first time I felt a faint exasperation at my
married partner's caution. "Matt, just relax, okay? Lie back and enjoy." I
grasped his cock with my right hand, licked it once and took it in my
mouth, knowing that would probably put a halt to his objections. Sure
enough, I felt his already hard shaft turn to steel as I went down all the
way. He sighed and his body relaxed. One hand reached down and began to
caress my head.

I gave Matt my very best blow job that afternoon, slickening his organ with
my saliva, sliding up and down on his shaft with tightly squeezed lips,
pulling gently on his balls, flicking my tongue around the ridge of his
swollen glans, and cleaning the precum out of his piss slit as fast as it
flowed out. Soon I had him groaning and writhing on the floor under me.

"Jon, I'm going to cum," he said finally, trying to wriggle away. Making
muffled negative noises, I held him firmly in place, picking up my pace. "I
don't want to cum in your mouth... please... oh god," he finally moaned,
arching his body upward. Matt's cum tasted sweet and I let it fill my mouth
before swallowing it. Finally I let him go and rose, wiping my mouth with
the back of my hand as I looked at my conquest. Matt lay sprawled on the
rug, arms flung out, still breathing hard, his eyes closed. Finally he
opened them and looked at me. For a moment I wondered how he was going to
react, and was relieved when he smiled. "That was great," he said.

"I could tell you liked it." I saw a stray drop of cum on the shaft of his
cock, bent down and licked it up. "I enjoyed every drop."

"I'm going to be absolutely useless for the next hour," he said.

"No problem," I said.

"But you didn't cum."

I looked at Matt lying there, his legs apart, his cock softening, his chest
still rising and falling a bit faster than normal. The expression on his
face was sleepy and relaxed. For the first time since we met I could see no
trace of anxiety or longing in his eyes. "Like I said, no problem."

"Thanks, Jon," he said, rising to a sitting position and putting his arms
around me. I returned the hug, surprised at my growing affection for the
man. I carried him down with me as I lay back on the floor. Matt stretched
out full length, his head resting on my left shoulder, his face toward
mine, his eyes closed. I put my left arm around him and stroked his hair
with my other hand. He put his arm across my chest and snuggled closer,
making a little noise of contentment.

"Comfortable?" I asked.

He opened his eyes and smiled. "And how," he said.

I don't know for how long we lay there, not speaking. Finally he stirred
and kissed me.  "Coming to life again?" I said. He smiled in response and
continued kissing me softly, on my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, working
his way down to my throat and chest. He reached my right nipple and began
to kiss it. I drew in my breath sharply. Unlike Matt, my nipples were very
sensitive and his mouth was drawing exquisite sensations.

"Oh Jesus, that's sweet," I said.

Matt switched to the other one, pausing only to say, "You have a great
chest, Jon."

He spit into one of his hands, reached down, found my cock, by now hard
again, and began to stroke it, his mouth still on my tit. My hands wandered
over his body as I sighed with pleasure. He sat up and began to masturbate
me in earnest. In a few moments I groaned and blew my load across my chest
and stomach. The first spurt was forceful enough that it hit my chin. I lay
back, my arm flung across my face, chest heaving with release. Slowly I
came back down to earth. I uncovered my face, opened my eyes, and looked up
to find Matt gazing down at me, smiling.

"Gosh, you cum a lot," he said.

"Your fault," I replied. "Thanks, that was wonderful." It had been a long
time since a hand job had turned me on that much.

"My pleasure," he said. "Can I help you get cleaned up?"

"Bathroom's behind you to your left," I said. He got a towel and wiped me
off. I sat up and looked at him.

"What is it?" Matt asked.

I shook my head. "Matt, you are something else."

He smiled again. "Thanks, I think."

"You are one hot looking man."

He actually blushed. "Aw no, I'm not."

"Matt, when a guy you've just messed around with compliments your body, the
correct reply is: `thank you.'"

He grinned like a little boy. "Well, thank you."

I leaned forward, cupped his face in my hands and kissed him. "You're
welcome. Want to take a shower?"

"Only if it's with you," he said.

I wanted to tell him many things at that moment--how bizarre the whole idea
of my making it with a married man really was. How exquisite being with him
had been, and how bizarre that was too, because what we had done had been
hardly sex at all by my standards. How my feelings for him were growing out
of all proportion to the length of time I had known him, or how much I
really knew about him. But I couldn't put any of this into words. So I
stayed silent and enjoyed my view of his muscled back and dimpled butt as I
followed him into the bathroom. I must have had a premonition about just
how little I was going to be able to see Matt without his clothes on.

PART TWO

Months later in a hotel room in another city, when we finally had some
private time together again, I said to him in frustration, "If I'd known
how hard this was going to be, I never would have invited you back to my
place."

"I know, Jon," he said. "I'm sorry."

Just keeping in touch with Matt was not difficult--he was online almost
every night, and always hailed me with a cheerful hello. I knew about all
his family activities, his ups and downs at work and with his finances.

We exercised together occasionally at lunchtime, after we discovered we
both belonged to the same gym in the city. This didn't work very
well. Matt, being a competitive runner, left me in the dust. When he ran my
pace on the indoor track, I felt as if he were hanging back against his
will. Working out was more fun. I couldn't keep from watching Matt's
muscles bulge out as he worked the weight machines, of course. Showering
with him was an exercise in frustration, trying not to get an erection at
the sight of him naked. Matt was a bit of a tease too. With a broad grin on
his face, he would flash his dick at me from a distance in the shower when
no one was around, or when other occupants' backs were turned. I had my
revenge now and then. I would cop a feel standing next to him at the
lockers, or grab his cock when we were alone together in the shower and
stroke it to erection. "Jon, quit it! Someone might come in," he would
hiss, simultaneously aghast and delighted.  Still, locker-room horseplay
was no substitute for what I really wanted.

Not that there was much prospect of doing more if we ever did manage to get
together again. In our chats online Matt made it clear that what we had
done that afternoon was the limit of his sexual activity with men. I was
secretly determined to change that.

We had lunch together frequently, most often at a small, nondescript Indian
restaurant with surprisingly good and cheap food, halfway between our
respective places of employment. I enjoyed eating with him--he was easy on
the eye, of course, and at least for a while, hearing about life with a
wife and children was interesting, since I had never been close friends
with any straight men.

"Do you think your wife suspects?" I asked him once, during one of these
meals, a few months after our afternoon tryst.

He considered the question. "I think she knows that there's stuff I don't
talk to her about.  She says I spend too much time online. I tell her it's
work related."

Matt's job included communicating with people in the business all over the
world, so this was not unconvincing.

"Well, not that I know that much about women," I grinned, "but I have gay
friends who used to be married. They all say that when they finally told
their wives, the first thing they said was, `I knew it.' Besides,
there's one thing about you that's a dead giveaway, Matt."

"What's that?" He looked worried.

"No straight man could possibly look that good from behind in jeans. You're
out whether you like it or not."

"Aw Jon," he said, blushing as usual, "You're such a tease."

"Only the truth, Mr. Family Man."

A silence, then Matt said, "So you really think she knows about me and
isn't saying anything, Jon?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to know," I said. "Women--hell, people--are a lot
smarter than you give them credit for. She might have taken a look at what
she has. A nice house in a good part of town. An SUV to drive. Two great
kids who keep her busy and don't get into trouble at school. You, or part
of you, at least. Maybe she's added it all up and decided it's not worth
rocking the boat."

"That sounds so--cold and calculating. Christine's not like that."

"Don't kid yourself, bud," I said, "We're all totaling the balance, all the
time, whether we know it or not. You've done yours and decided to stay
married. I did mine at the end of last month and decided you were still
worth keeping around."

Matt blinked--the last sentence had come out more sharply than I had
intended. "I know we don't see each other enough, Jon. I'm sorry about
that."

"We haven't seen each other at all, Matt, except for lunch, the gym and
that Saturday in the parking garage."

He had the grace to lower his head in embarrassment at the memory of that
hasty meeting in the deserted company garage. He had told his wife he had
forgotten some paperwork at the office and slipped out for an hour. His
eyes were wide with need, his cock hard. I had deep-throated him in the
front seat of the Ford Explorer, the denim of his jeans rough against my
face, his hand pressing against the back of my head. After I had swallowed
his load, he had gone to pick up his son from soccer practice.

"I know, I know," he sighed. "I'll see what I can do, Jon. I promise."

Matt's refusal to make plans for us more than a day in advance drove me
crazy. I knew it was because he felt guilty about the whole thing, but
understanding that didn't make it any easier. We finally arranged another
afternoon together a couple of weeks later. It was a disaster that almost
finished us.

That morning I called him at the office and left a message telling him when
I'd be home.  When I got to my place, there was a message from him asking
where I was, and that he was waiting for my call. I called and left another
message telling him that I was now home.  After waiting the rest of the
afternoon, I gave up in disgust, sure that he had stood me up.

Much later that evening, after I had gone out, gotten drunk and ultimately
staggered home alone, I checked my e-mail. There was a note from
Matt. "Jon, I'm so sorry. I just got home and re-checked my voice mail and
found twenty messages, including two from you.  Obviously my pager is
screwed up. It never told me I had any calls. I don't know what to say--you
have every right to be mad. Let me know if and when you want to talk to
me."

At that moment, I didn't care whether I ever saw or talked with him
again. I went to bed, slept heavily and woke up with a pounding head. There
were no calls or messages from him that day at work. I had to give him
credit for that.

I stayed offline that evening too--slowly I had begun to concede that the
whole snafu, when it came down to it, had not been his fault. I just didn't
feel ready to chat again as if nothing had happened. I was sitting reading
the paper with the TV on, feeling odd at the unaccustomed activity, when
the phone rang.

"Jon?" Matt's voice said. "Don't hang up, please?"

Momentarily taken aback, I said nothing. Matt never called me at home or in
the evening, when he was with his family. He said, "Are you still there?"

Finally I said, "How come you're calling so late?"

"Chris took the kids out to McDonald's. We--had a kind of a bad time today,
actually. I told her it would be better if I just stayed home and
worked. You aren't online."

"No, I'm not."

"I understand if you're avoiding me, Jon. I'd like to try and explain."

I sighed. "Matt, I know your pager not working wasn't your fault. I'm just
mad and frustrated right now."

"You have every right to be."

I paused, then decided to say it. "Do you think this is worth it, Matt?"

"What is?"

"Whatever it is that we have. Right now it doesn't feel like much."

I heard his intake of breath as he realized what I was suggesting. Then he
said, quietly, "Jon, please don't say you don't want to see me anymore."

"We hardly see each other now," I pointed out. "Most of the time you're
just words on a computer screen. My friends are amazed at my new celibate
lifestyle."

"But--I thought you saw other people. You told me that."

"It hasn't turned out that way, Matt. Somehow you're now the only
one. Stupid of me, isn't it?" I said, bitterness suddenly rising.

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "Jon, I don't know
what to say. I feel so bad."

"You have to understand, Matt," I said, "When things like this get too
difficult, my first impulse is to cut and run. I never thought this was a
good idea to begin with."

"Well, before you decide anything, will you go to Houston for the weekend
with me?"

Taken by surprise, I stammered foolishly, "Wh-what?"

"That's really why I called. I'm being sent to a company meeting there the
weekend after next. I'll leave Friday, have business all day Saturday,
leave Sunday morning. I'll be really busy and we won't have much time to do
anything fun. But, we could spend Friday and Saturday night together if you
can get away. Do you want to check your schedule and get back to me?"

My heart was pounding with what I realized was joy. "Matt, I'll be there."

"Great!" There was relief in his voice. "I'll e-mail you exact information
about where we'll be staying and what to do if you get to the hotel before
me. And, Jon?"

"What?"

"I know I've been a pain in the ass. Thanks for putting up with me. Listen,
I have to go, I hear the car in the driveway. Talk to you later, okay?"

I clicked off the phone, put it down, and sat with the muted TV going
unheeded in front of me. The joy receded and was replaced by a kind of
rueful self-mockery. It seemed I was determined to see this thing through
to whatever end.

So nine days later I sat in a second-floor motel room off a busy interstate
in Houston. The room had been reserved exactly as he had said, and he had
given the front desk my name.  Still, as it grew later I began to get
nervous. What if he had had to call off the trip at the last minute? Or his
wife had somehow found out what he was planning besides business? My mind
spun all sorts of paranoid scenarios.

At last I heard a car pull up below. Looking out the window, I saw that it
was his SUV. A minute later he was knocking at the door. I opened it and we
were together. For long moments, I was content simply to hold his hard body
in my arms. As usual, his only scent was a faint one of soap, clean and
masculine.

"It's good to see you," I said simply, releasing him finally and looking
into his eyes.

"It's been too long," Matt said.

I kissed him, hard, on the mouth. Matt's lips parted and we were in another
hug, lustful this time. His hand went to my crotch. "I want you, Jon," he
said.

"Same here, bud," I said. "Be right back."

Unknown to him, in my weeks of frustrated waiting and fantasizing I had
hatched some plans.

I shut the door and took my clothes off. Naked, I took the tube of
lubricant out of my toilet kit, squeezed some out onto my hand, reached
behind me and and applied it to myself. I was smiling, breathing fast with
excitement, hoping that my little scheme would work. I took some toilet
paper and wiped my outsides off so he wouldn't suspect anything out of the
ordinary, then threw it in the toilet and flushed it. I took the condom box
out of the kit, picked up my clothes and walked back into the room. Matt
was lying naked on his back on the bed, his cock stiff at attention,
playing with it. I saw a string of precum cling to his hand as he lifted it
away. He saw me and smiled, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Matt, I've been thinking lately," I said. "I know you haven't played
around much, and I trust you, but..."

"But what?"

"Well," I said, reaching up and scratching my head in feigned
embarrassment, "I think we should think a little more about playing
safe. Like I should put a rubber on you when I suck you."

"But....," Matt said, his face falling, "Are you sure we have to do that?"
I knew he was thinking, it's not going to feel so good.

I thought I might crack up at any moment, but I kept my voice serious as I
answered, "I think so. Remember that first time, you didn't even want me to
do it to you."

"That's true," Matt said, slowly, "but--I trust you, Jon. Are you sure?"

"Let's just try it," I urged. "It's not going to feel any different, you'll
see." I took a condom package out of the box. Throwing the box and my
clothes on a nearby chair, I got on the bed with him. His cock had shrunk a
bit--from disappointment?--but began to grow again as I grasped it and
smiled into his eyes.

"I'm glad you're here, Matt," I said, leaning down to kiss him.

He became fully hard again as our mouths met and played. I was still
holding the wrapped condom, and released him a moment to tear it open and
take it out. I quickly unrolled it onto his dick, then bent down and took
the latex-covered shaft into my mouth, gripping it hard with my hand as
well. I had to admit I wasn't too fond of the taste myself. I heard Matt's
quick intake of breath and looked up. "Not so bad, is it?"

Matt said, "Jon--it feels wonderful. It's been such a long time. Suck me."

I was getting a charge at sucking Matt again, condom or no condom. I slid
up and down on his cock, pulling his balls, until my partner was moaning
and grabbing at my head. I knew then that the moment had come. I sat up,
continuing to masturbate him with my hand, then moved forward over him,
still holding his dick, pretending I wanted to kiss him.

"You are so handsome," I said. At that moment, I rocked back, quickly
placed the head of Matt's cock against my asshole, and pushed backward. His
stiff prick entered the greased hole without difficulty. I gasped as my
insides cramped at the invasion, but did not let up until he was all the
way inside me, his balls against my cheeks.

"Jesus!" Matt cried out as his head broke the barrier and slid in. "What
the fuck are you doing?"

I grinned at him through the brief pain. "Trying something new."

"Jon, you tricked me! You asshole."

I laughed. "You got that right, bud." As the pain receded, I began to ride
him, squeezing my ass muscles. "So, you want me to quit?" I saw his eyes go
out of focus, his jaw slacken, and thought I could predict the answer.

"You know I don't do that... Jon... Oh God," Matt sighed, as he felt the
new sensations from being ridden by a tight asshole flood through him.

"Thought so. Just relax, buddy. We're having safe sex, just like I
promised."

Matt said again, "You jerk, you tricked me," but he was smiling.

"And you fell for it, you horny chump," I laughed. "Having a good time
now?"

"God yes," Matt said, "Your ass feels so good, so hot, so tight," he added,
thrusting his hips upward for emphasis.

I grunted as his dick hit my prostate. "Oh yeah, baby, you know how to
fuck, don't you, you married stud. Do it to me." I began to jack my own
very hard dick off in rhythm to his thrusts up my asshole.

"Let me be on top," Matt said softly.

I put my hands under his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position,
then leaned back. We turned over awkwardly but his cock stayed inside of
me. Once we were settled with me on my back, my calves against his
shoulders, Matt began to thrust into me. His breathing came in shallow
bursts, his face was flushed. His face was locked in an intense grimace.

"Jon, you are so hot," he said.

"Enjoy it, buddy. Fuck me," I encouraged him. "Fuck me," I repeated,
jacking my stiff dick furiously. The sight of his body between my spread
legs, his hairy chest, his stomach muscles working with the force of his
thrusts, was driving me wild. I felt the climax rising in my body and
abandoned myself to it. "Shit, I'm cumming..." My asshole clamped down on
his pole sliding through me as my cock began to release thick spurts of
cream across my stomach. I shouted wordlessly.

Matt leaned forward over me and began to drive into my body like a
jackhammer. A sheen of sweat covered him, his face by now was a dark red,
his eyes were tightly shut. He blew air noisily and small incoherent
whimpers emerged from him. I knew he was shooting his first load up another
man's ass, and tightened my insides to give him more pleasure. At last his
thrusts slowed and his head fell on my shoulder as he collapsed against me.

"Are you okay?" I said, putting my hands lightly on his butt that a few
moments ago had been in such frantic motion.

He barked a short, breathless laugh. "I don't know. That was amazing." He
straightened up, his chest lightly smeared with my cum. "You shouldn't have
done that."

"I know, Matt. I forced you, didn't I," I said, unable to keep the sarcasm
completely out of my voice.

He shook his head ruefully, "I didn't need a lot of forcing, I admit it. It
was just--so different."

"How, Matt?"

"I guess--this is going to sound stupid, but a woman is supposed to submit
to a man, in a way, you know? But you're a man, and you wanted it. It made
it so--wonderful, that you would let me do that to you. That doesn't make
sense, I know."

I looked at him. "Matt, it makes perfect sense. That's what being gay is
all about."

He looked back, his blue eyes troubled. "Jon, would you understand if I
didn't want to do it again? At least not for a while?"

"It's okay. I won't make you do anything ever again."

"Well," Matt said, "the truth is, I wanted to, or I wouldn't have let you."
He pulled out of me and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. He came
back with a towel and wiped me off as well, then lay on the bed beside
me. I enfolded him in my arms. My having compelled him to explore new areas
of himself didn't seem to have changed his affection, at least for the
moment.

In fact, it had broken some barrier inside him. As we lay together in that
impersonal motel room, the traffic rushing by outside, he told me more
about himself and his feelings that night than in the entire time we had
talked up until then.

He had realized he was "different" when he was in middle school. A group of
high school athletes, friends of his older brother, were in a bullying mood
one day. They had abducted him, taken him to an isolated spot in the woods
in back of the school and forced him to suck all their dicks.

"Halfway through all of that, I looked down and I realized that I had a
hard-on," Matt said.  "One of the jocks saw it too. He said, hey, this kid
likes doing this. He's a faggot. I don't know what he thought he was
himself."

"He thought he was just horny and using you to get his rocks off. Classic
self-deception." I said.

"Those assholes went and told everyone at school what had happened and that
I had liked sucking dick. All the older kids started calling me "queer boy"
and "fairy" after that and asking if I would give them head
too. Fortunately, we moved away in the summer and no one at the new school
knew anything of course."

"After that, I decided no way was anyone going to find out I was queer. I
dated girls, ran track, got straight As, went off to college. Dated girls,
ran track, raised hell, got Cs," he grinned. "Graduated, got married, got a
job, got kids. Got everything I wanted, but something was missing."

"When did you start seeing other men?" I asked him.

"I'd thought about it for a long time," Matt said. "I was sent down here on
a business trip from North Carolina before I moved here with my family. I
went to a gay bar downtown and was scared stiff the whole time. Heard about
some woods where guys went. Drove out there and, well, I met someone. But
that was all it was -- a quickie in the bushes.

"I moved down here--that was five years ago--and was working so hard I
really didn't have time to think about meeting or getting with anyone. I
started checking out these chat rooms on the Internet after a while
though. Then one night, I'm talking to someone and all of a sudden I
realize it's a guy who works in my division.

"I played cat and mouse with him, got him to tell me more and more about
himself. I was bad," he chuckled. "When I finally told Joel--that was his
name--who I was, he freaked.  Got mad actually, wouldn't talk to me at work
the next day. He came around though, eventually. We had some fun times...

"He was married too, but separated. Nice guy. Working in the same place
made things easier. We got assigned to go to meetings together and no one
suspected anything when we shared a hotel room. Sometimes when he went by
himself, I'd go too, pay my own way and tell my wife it was a company
assignment.

"But Joel got a good offer and moved to Atlanta. We still keep in touch,
we're really good friends. But it's hard to be anything more now, of
course." He shifted on the bed, looking at the ceiling, his expression far
away, remembering.

"Matt, are you a happy man?" I asked.

He thought, and said, "Actually I am, most of the time. I wish I was a
better husband and father. I love my wife. I love my kids. But it's just
not enough. I don't like the deception, of course.

"I'd been thinking a lot lately about heading back up north. Christine's
never been totally at home here, she misses the East Coast. Now though,
it's a lot harder," he said, taking my hand.

"No point in kidding ourselves," I said, emotion making my voice harsh. "If
it comes down to crunch time, you'll go."

"Jon, you don't think much of me, do you?"

I let go a bit of my frustration at him then, I must admit. Matt
apologized. It was a running pattern in our lives.

But at least he gave me fair warning that what we had wasn't going to last.

PART THREE

Matt had told me in the restaurant that he was leaving for sure, and the
days began to rush by toward the end of our time together. But on the
surface, we went on as before, having lunch together, working out at the
gym. He came to my apartment twice in that last month. We had never been
together enough for the initial charge of attraction to diminish, and our
lovemaking became even more intense, particularly our kisses. That was one
act Matt had no inhibitions about. I remember one kiss most of all: on my
bed, him on top, holding my head, me holding his, our tongues now gently
teasing, now roughly tangling, our lips meeting over and over again,
touching softly, then pressing passionately. He would leave my mouth at
times and kiss my eyes, my nose, my mustache.  I caressed his hair, then
held his head away from me so that I could look into his blue, blue
eyes. Then always we would return to each other's mouths as if to try and
drink from each other's souls. Later, thrusting into my crouching form from
behind, he shouted with some wordless emotion, grief and joy in equal
parts, as he climaxed inside me.

He slept afterwards, but I stayed awake. Holding him and looking at his
peaceful face in the still afternoon, it seemed hardly possible he would
leave me forever.

As the departure day approached, I saw and talked to Matt less and less; he
was just too busy with the demands of closing his house and moving his
family far away. He had told me he would be leaving on a Thursday. On the
Tuesday two days before, he called me at home in the evening, for only the
second time.

I had been drinking in solitary gloom and was a bit combative. "So, Matt,
to what do I owe this honor?" I asked, heavily sarcastic. "Family gone out
to McDonalds again?"

"Actually they've already left town. Chris and the kids flew out this
morning--they're staying with her folks until our new place is ready.  I'm
hanging around to do some last- minute errands, and to make sure the house
is ready for the new owners. They aren't going to be coming in until next
week--they're moving here from California. I'm having a driver take the car
up north tomorrow, and I'm flying up myself early Thursday morning."

"So why are you telling me all of this?" I wasn't in the mood for hearing
details about his leaving.

"Jon--I'll be by myself in an empty house for the next day and a half. It's
getting awfully lonely here already. Would you come stay with me tomorrow
night?"

"You know," I said, "I have been sitting here getting drunk--because I
thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye." To my dismay, my
voice cracked a little as I said the last word.

"Jon," Matt said warmly, "You know I would never do that. You could come
over right now if you want."

"Well, the truth is, I'm in no condition to drive," I said, morosely amused
at the situation.  "You should have called about an hour ago, before I
broke out this ancient bottle of cognac."

"I should have called you days ago, I know. Say you'll come tomorrow, Jon,
please."

"I will, Matt. Besides, you do need a ride to the airport, don't you?"

After work the next day, I drove to his house, following the directions he
had given me. It struck me, as I threaded my way through the unfamiliar
neighborhood, that I had never been to where he lived until now. The house
turned out to be a modest but pleasant two- story structure, with a
carefully tended front yard.

I knocked and Matt opened the door, dressed in a light blue polo shirt and
jeans. He was as handsome as ever, and my prepared good cheer
faltered. "Welcome," he smiled, as if I dropped by all the time. I passed
into the front hallway, stripped of all furnishings. We hugged tightly, and
kissed. A lump rose in my throat but I pushed it back.

"Nice house," I said, idiotically.

"Well, I could give you a tour, I guess, but there's not much to see." His
laugh seemed forced as well. We nevertheless walked through the downstairs,
out into the back yard, and then upstairs. Nearly all of the rooms were
bare. In one, a double air mattress piled with bedclothes was on the
carpeted floor, an open carry-on suitcase lying next to it, a small
portable alarm clock nearby.

"I'm staying on the floor of my son's room tonight. Sorry, but it's not
really very comfortable. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Doesn't matter." I knew that he had moved in there so that we wouldn't be
staying in the bedroom he had shared with Christine.

"There's nothing to eat in the house. Are you hungry?"

"Sure," I lied.

"Well," he said, laughing a little, "The driver took the car an hour
ago. You'll have to do the honors."

We didn't eat or talk much at dinner, and came quickly back to the house
afterward.  Despite the luxury of having time alone with Matt, I didn't
even feel horny. We stood indecisively once more in the empty front
hallway.

"It's a nice evening," he said. "There's a screened porch out back. Do you
want to sit a while?"

It was late spring and not yet oppressively hot. So we sat in outdoor
furniture he was leaving behind, and watched the evening gradually fade
into darkness. I reached over and took his hand. He turned and smiled. "I'm
glad you came by, Jon."

After a while, Matt said, "I need a glass of water. How about you?" I shook
my head and he got up and walked into the house. I watched him go. I had
always enjoyed looking at him from behind, whether naked or clothed--the
broad shoulders tapering down to narrow waist and hips, and the small
perfect butt, at the moment outlined in denim. I felt the lust that had
been absent all evening rise up in me, and followed him into the kitchen.

He was standing at the sink, running water. I came up behind him and put my
arms around him and squeezed him against me, running my hands over his
chest, nuzzling his neck. "Turn off that tap," I said. "Turn around."

He faced me, his eyes as wide with longing as they had been that first time
I saw him. "Oh Jon," he said, "I wish to hell I wasn't going."

"Don't think about that now." I kissed him once, then knelt on the
linoleum, pulling up his shirt, running my hands up his stomach and
chest. unbuttoning the fly on his jeans.  The pale skin of his pubic area
came into view--he wasn't wearing underwear. I pushed the fabric down his
thighs and his cock sprang free. I took it quickly all the way down,
burying my face in his warm crotch, his pale brown pubic hair tickling my
nose.

Upstairs, we lay on the air mattress, which proved uncooperative. During
one passionate tussle the thing turned over and dumped us on the bedroom
floor. We laughed until tears ran down our cheeks. "Fuck this shit," Matt
said, pulling the blanket out of the tangle and spreading it on the
floor. "It's more comfortable down here on the rug."

I thought about how we had become lovers, as they used to say, on the floor
too. Before I could get sad Matt was over me again, looking into my
eyes. "Jon, I have a request."

"What, Matt?"

"Would you fuck me?"

I was speechless. Matt had gradually loosened up, so to speak, sexually but
he had never let me top him. I had kept my promise and not pestered him
about it. Finally, I said, "Matt, are you sure?"

"As sure as I'll ever be. It's now or never, guy."

I shook my head in amazement. "You're full of surprises."

He grinned in his old way. "You going to do it or not?"

"I didn't bring any rubbers."

"I have some, and lube, too. Look in my suitcase."

"You devil, you planned this."

"Guilty as charged," he laughed. "Us married guys have to plan, you know."
He turned over onto his stomach on the blanket, arms above his head. "It's
all yours, buddy. Go easy on me, now."

I was about to suggest that he might be more comfortable starting on top,
but seeing him lying there, offering himself to me, gave me another idea. I
spread his legs apart and lay down between them, then threaded my arms
under his pelvis until my hands were resting on his back just above his
cheeks. "Bend your legs, Matt," I said.

He obeyed, and his buttocks parted just enough so I could see the darker
skin of his asshole nestled in the cleft. I kissed his cheeks gently, then
started using my tongue, beginning at the top of the crack and working my
way downward. Matt moved slightly and sighed beneath me. I finally felt my
tongue brush a few hairs, then I felt the silky smoothness of his hole, so
different from the surrounding skin. I began to flick my tongue gently
against it. Matt pushed his butt up against my face, and I responded by
pushing my mouth against his anus as I thrust my tongue inside. This
brought a loud groan. "Oh God Jon, that feels so good."

"Tastes good too, buddy," I replied, then returned to the attack. His
response delighted me and I needed no further encouragement, twisting my
head as I fucked him with my mouth. I found his hard cock underneath with
one hand and took hold of it.

"Jon, if you do that I'll cum right now."

"Not yet." I straightened up, and, pulling gently on Matt's body, got him
into a kneeling posture, his head still on the floor. I fumbled in his
suitcase and found the rubbers and lube. Squeezing some onto one finger, I
pushed it gently into his asshole, and felt it tighten in response. I
probed until I felt the knob of his prostate gland and pressed gently. This
brought another grunt of pleasure from Matt. "What the fuck are you doing?"
he asked.

I chuckled, "Giving you a rectal exam."

"Hell, it never felt this good when my doctor did it."

"Just wait, it gets better." My own cock was hard and dripping precum by
now. I slickened it lightly with lube and put a condom on it, then more
lube on the condom. One more application to Matt's butt and I was
ready. "Now, just try and relax. This could hurt a bit at first."

"I figured it would. Just take it slow, okay?"

"I will, Matt." I positioned myself so that my sheathed, lubed cock was in
the cleft between his cheeks. I probed with my finger until I found the
soft indentation of his asshole, then placed my organ against it. Letting
my weight go forward gradually, I began to push into the opening. I heard
Matt's breathing increase its pace. "Easy, fella," I breathed, "I'm not
going to hurt you." I felt the firm ring of his sphincter begin to give way
and expand slowly to admit the head, then, all of a sudden, the muscles
closed behind it and I was inside him.  Matt gasped, "God!"

"You okay? Does it hurt?"

"Oh, not bad--only like a log up my butt," Matt laughed shakily. "You're
not rupturing me or something, are you?"

"Your ass muscles are just cramping, they aren't used to something coming
in. I'm not going to go in any farther for a minute, just take it
easy. You're doing great." I saw his tousled head, bent before me in
submission on the carpet ; his shoulders and back, tapering down to his
narrow waist; his round butt cheeks flaring out just a bit; and the pole of
flesh disappearing between them, sign of my possession and his
surrender. Holding onto one hip, I stroked his back with my other hand as I
began slowly to push in further. Matt didn't protest, but he pushed himself
onto his hands and knees. His head came up, his eyes were closed as he
concentrated on the new sensation of being penetrated. I continued slowly
but relentlessly, until at last my pubic bone was pressing against his
rear. "You got it all, buddy," I said. "How's it feel? Still hurt?"

"Jesus, oh Jesus," Matt gasped, "It's incredible."

I began to slide back and forth slowly in his ass as I reached down and
grabbed his cock. It was as hard as steel and jumped when I took a hold of
it. At the same time, I felt his insides clamp down on my cock.

"You can't do that, Jon," Matt said. "I'll blow in a second if you keep
touching me there.  Goddamn, it's so sensual."

"Okay." I fucked him slowly for a few moments longer, grasping his
hips. Then Matt moved forward and eased himself off my cock, grunting again
as it slid out. He flipped over onto his back on the blanket. "Take me this
way."

I moved between his raised legs. Holding his ankles, I looked down as I
slid into him once more underneath his balls and cock, which lay stiffly on
his stomach. Precum was leaking so freely from it a little pool had formed
underneath. I wet my right hand with it and began to stroke his dick in
rhythm with my renewed thrusts. I looked at his face--Matt's head was up
off the rug, his eyes were turned toward me, dark, unseeing as his orgasm
approached. "Jon, I'm going to cum... Oh God... Oh! Oh!" he shouted, as he
began to spew white lava over my hand and onto his belly.

I was ramming into him with the speed and force of a machine. As Matt shot
his load, I felt my own sperm rush up from my balls, through my organ and
into the rubber jammed inside him. I matched him shout for shout as we
climaxed together.

Finally I opened my eyes, drew back, and pulled slowly out of him. Matt's
head was back down on the floor, his eyes closed. I realized with alarm
that he was shaking with silent sobs. "Matt, what's wrong, what is it?"

He shook his head, the tears running out of his eyes sideways onto the
blanket underneath. I bent and embraced him, not knowing what else to
do. He clung tightly to my neck. At last he quieted down a bit and lay back
down.

"I'm sorry." His voice was still watery.

"Sorry for what, Matt?"

"Sorry for everything--the way I got you tangled up with me, the way I've
treated you. The way I've led my whole miserable life."

"God, what brought this on?"

He sniffled a bit more, then gazed steadily at me. "Being with you tonight
made me realize what a lie my life is. What I want is to stay with you
forever. And I can't."

"No, you can't," I said slowly. "You're too hard on yourself, Matt. The
reality is that you have a wife and children who love you, and you love
them. That's not a lie.

"And actually," I continued, my throat tightening, "I love you too, Matthew
Mulroy."

"I don't deserve you, Jon. I don't deserve anyone."

I smiled at him, without sarcasm for once. "It doesn't matter. We all love
you in spite of you."

"What the fuck am I going to do?" Matt asked.

"That's a tough one," I said slowly. "I hope whatever you decide, you'll be
able to keep the love of everyone you care about most. But no matter what
happens, Matt, you'll have mine."

We fell asleep in each other's arms, back on the unruly air mattress. There
was no need for his alarm--we awoke early as sunlight flooded through the
rooms of the empty house. It was a beautiful day, contrasting sharply with
our downcast mood.

We got dressed in silence. Matt quickly packed up the few things in the
back bedroom and closed his carry-on suitcase. After deflating the air
mattress, he said to me, "There really isn't any way I can take this thing
along--want to just keep it?"

I shrugged. "Sure, why not," I said, taking the awkward object. As we were
about to walk out the door, I stopped him. When he turned, I said, "We
won't be able to do this at the airport," and hugged him for a long time,
dropping the ridiculous air mattress. After a while, Matt said against my
chest, "We'd better get going." Turning quickly away, he opened the door
and walked outside.

After a brief stop by his real estate agent's place to drop off the house
key, we headed toward the airport. We drove mostly in silence--after last
night, there wasn't much more to say. I'd seen pictures, movies of parting
lovers and spouses--clinging to each other desperately, prolonging the last
moment of being together. I felt just the opposite--it was as if Matt and I
were already many miles apart. There was just me and the aching loneliness
inside. Once I stole a sidelong glance at him. His face was impassive, his
jaw set grimly.  Perhaps he felt the same.

His plane was late taking off, of course, which prolonged the agony. I sat
next to him in the crowded, uncomfortable waiting area at the gate. At
last, boarding began. Matt's seat was in the rear so his row number was
called early. As we got up, he turned to face me. "Looks like this is it,
Jon. Thanks for everything."

I couldn't look him in the eye. I stood there, staring at the floor, trying
to stay in control. At last, I said, "You know it's been my pleasure,
Matt. Have a safe journey."

I looked up then. Matt's lips were tight and his eyes shone with tears. He
said, "Goodbye, Jon." Did his voice break when he said my name? He stepped
forward and put his arms around me. Surprised and grateful, I returned the
hug. I heard him whisper, "I love you too." He then broke away before our
embrace became more than an expression of affection between good buddies,
and joined the line of ticket holders.

I started to walk away toward the central terminal, then turned. He was in
the boarding line, looking at me. He waved, and I raised my hand in
response. I walked some more, then turned again; but he had entered the
plane. Resolutely, I joined the surging crowd of travelers, all on their
way to somewhere.

END