Date: Thu, 23 Dec 2010 00:47:49 +0000 (GMT)
From: Alex Douglas <alex_d0uglas@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Satisfaction Guaranteed

Any and all feedback welcome at alex_d0uglas@yahoo.co.uk


=====


(Satisfaction Guaranteed)



It is my favourite time of day, that moment when the night slips away. The
room starts to brighten and the cloudy sky looks like a grey sheet in front
of an ultraviolet light, just slightly surreal. I curl up, feeling the
warmth of his solid body beside me. He lies on his back, his lips parted
slightly, a dusting of stubble across his jaw. He sleeps so deeply that he
doesn't feel my gaze, or my fingertips brushing the hair back from his
face. I watch his eyes dancing under the lids, the way he smiles in his
dreams. Sometimes he wakes up, laughing.

I am the luckiest guy in the world. I tell myself that every day. There
aren't many people in the world who would want to commit to someone like
me. But Jamie saw past my illness and fell in love with a person I'm not
sure has ever existed. Jamie is beautiful, successful, loving. It doesn't
matter to him that I can't get a job, or that I'm uncoordinated and useless
sometimes. He takes me to the gym in the mornings, since the medication I'm
on means I can't drive. His friends are like him, tolerant, liberal and
gentle. We have dinner parties and barbeques. He likes to cook for me when
he comes home from work. He likes it even more when I bend him over the
kitchen counter and fuck him until he screams and blows a load over the
drawers.

I stroke his hair and he murmurs and smiles, still fast asleep. There is a
knot in my stomach. I'm supposed to be happy. I'm supposed to love him
back. I thought I did. An image shoots into my head, of my hands wrapped
around his neck, choking the life out of his body.  His tanned, smooth
body. I don't know if I want to fuck him or kill him. Immediately I hate
myself and I roll over, breathing hard with the effort of not thinking
about it. Maybe the dose is still not right. I vow to make another
appointment with my GP. It will be the second vitally important thing I
have on my agenda today, the first one being to let in the plumber when he
comes at 10:30 to fix the shower for the hundredth time. Jamie is thinking
of redecorating the bathroom. He gets the Ideal Home magazine delivered and
it's always giving him ideas. We live the suburban dream.

= = = = =

He comes down for breakfast at half eight, slightly later than usual. His
hair is tousled and wet after his shower. He eats his cereal at the
breakfast bar, perched on a stool. His dressing gown slides apart, and I
let my eyes travel over his muscular chest down to where his cock is
hanging down. His tan lines make me think of how he looks in those skimpy
Speedos he wore when we were in Mykonos. My first ever official "gay"
holiday. I hated every minute of it. Except the nights. Those were
something else.

He feels my stare and pulls his dressing gown back around himself, checking
his watch and shoveling the cereal in faster. "Fuck," he says, and milk
dribbles down his chin. "I'm going to be late."

"Jesus," I mutter, feeling my cock start to burn in my pyjamas. I stand up
and go over to him, grabbing his wrists, my eyes on the white drops. I feel
my head cloud with lust as I bend over and lick the milk off his chin, then
his lips, then my tongue is in his mouth and I've released his hands as
mine slip inside the toweling robe, pushing it off his shoulders. I pull
him up so he's standing, letting the robe fall to the floor. His cock is
already starting to grow and he sighs as I trail my tongue down the side of
his neck to his nipple, playing with the piercing until his fingers grasp
at my hair and his eyes close. I know exactly where to touch him and I show
no mercy as I sink to my knees. Small pearls are forming at the tip of his
cock, and I lick them off, barely touching the swollen flesh. I push his
legs apart and attack his balls with my tongue, sucking each one into my
mouth. His cock jumps and weeps against my face as my fingers press on the
skin behind his balls, working towards the dark little hole behind.

Taking his cock into my mouth, I swallow it until his pubic hair tickles
against my lips. His scent is intoxicating and I groan, letting the sound
vibrate on his shaft as I work my fingers up inside him. My free hand grabs
his prick and starts to slide up and down, up and down. I let my tongue
trail up the vein on the side, from base to tip, where some more pearls
wait for me. The salty taste sends my head spinning. No more teasing. He's
gasping and clutching at my head as I bob my head up and down, licking and
sucking until I know he's almost at the edge.

I stand up, turn him round and push his face down on the counter, running
my palms over the smooth skin of his shoulders as I slide my cock up and
down his arse crack. The olive oil will do. I pour some into my hand and
massage it into him, letting my cock nudge at his slick entrance until he's
begging me to fuck him. "You'll be late for work," I chuckle, amazed at my
own self restraint.

"Fuck work," he gasps. "Oh... my god!"

I slide inside that tight sheath until my balls are resting against him. My
breathing is ragged and I run my hands over his smooth white arse cheeks. I
love the sight of my cock planted inside him as I start to move and he
moans again as I find the angle I'm looking for. As I fuck him, I slide my
hands up his back, pulling him up a bit so I can reach around to play with
his nipples. I bite on his neck, sucking until the skin is purple. And
again. I want to brand him, make him scream. I slam into his body harder
and harder. He tries to soothe his dripping cock but I grab his hand and
force his arm up behind his back. He yelps and twists but I keep fucking
until I feel his body start to tense up and he bucks his arse back against
me and just as the first lines of cum burst out of him, I bite down on his
bruised neck and he screams as his inner muscles start to contract around
me. Just as he finishes, I close my eyes and let myself fall over the edge.
My nipples tingle as I explode inside him, releasing his arm, resting my
forehead against his neck, feeling my body shake and spasm, the delicious
afterglow spreading through my veins like honey.

When I've steadied myself, I slide out of him and turn him around, kissing
him deeply and cupping his arse in my hands, pulling him against me. The
tips of my fingers brush against his hole as I feel my cum start to dribble
out of him. He's gasping for breath as I release him, his cock still
semi-hard, his eyes dark, his cheeks flushed.

He shakes his head, checking his new love bites in the reflection of the
kettle. "Looks like a polo neck again today," he said. "Why do you always
do that?"

I know he hates it, but I can't help it. And I know the pain turns him on,
even though he denies it. Maybe I'm trying to make him angry. But I never
can. I watch him contain his irritation and he smiles. "Well, that beats
going to the gym in the morning," he says, pulling the robe on. He kisses
me on the cheek and heads into the hall. "I'd better get ready and scoot,"
he says. "Don't forget the plumber's coming."

When he's gone, I ring my GP. It's three weeks before I can get an
appointment, so I ask to speak to him directly. He's a nice guy, much
better than the old git I had before who spent twenty years telling me to
get more exercise and "cheer up".

He laughs when I tell him how removed I am from what I should feel, how I
imagined strangling Jamie. "Listen," he says. "Last night I was making soup
and my wife was going on about getting a conservatory. She's been saying
that for three years now but she won't do anything about it. Drives me
nuts. I imagined throwing the soup around her, just to shut her up. Felt
good too, I have to say, for a second. But of course I wouldn't dream of
doing it for real."

I bite my lip. "So you don't think...?"

"Alex, you have to remember that everyone feels bored, angry, miserable,
whatever, from time to time. These are normal emotions. Having partner
trouble is also perfectly normal. Just talk it over with Jamie and don't be
so fast to see monsters in the mundane."

I love the way he says stuff like that. Slightly reassured, I hang up and
scratch my hair. I stink of sex and sweat and need a shower. Just as I
leave the kitchen, the doorbell rings. It is the plumber. He is early. I
feel a blush creep up my cheeks as I notice his eyes traveling over my
body. He hands me his business card. I notice a wet patch on the front of
my pyjama bottoms and I'm mortified. "Come on in," I say, wishing I was
wearing a t shirt. "Bathroom's an ensuite, upstairs."

His footsteps thud on the stairs as he follows me up. I feel his eyes
boring into my back and shiver. He's tall and very well built. His hair is
sticking up as if he's just got out of bed. His eyes are bright blue and
cool under the thick black brows. Tufts of chest hair poke out from under
his shirt. His jeans are faded and dirty. "Shower again, is it," he says,
setting his tools down at the bathroom door. "I'll get on with it then. Get
us a coffee, would you?"

I gape for a second. "What did your last slave die of?" I try making a joke
but it comes out wrong. He's so huge the bathroom looks small and I feel
myself start to dance with nerves. He looks round and his face twists into
an evil grin. "Get the fuckin' coffee and maybe I'll show you," he says.

Feeling anger simmering in my chest, I go downstairs and put on the
kettle. I don't remember him being at our place before. Jamie must have
saved that particular pleasure for himself. I thumb his grotty business
card as the water boils, noticing the little rainbow in the bottom right
corner. Jamie uses some website or other to get gay friendly workmen. Mr
Thomas Kirkland, plumber and handyman (satisfaction guaranteed), is
obviously affiliated to the site.

Coffee made, I carry the cup upstairs and leave it by the door of the
bathroom. He has already taken off the unit cover and is tightening
something inside. He's humming tunelessly and I see earphones in his ears
from an iPod. I gaze at the muscles sliding inside his huge biceps. This is
like some kind of lame porn movie plot. Now's the time when I'm supposed to
make some comment about his "toolbox", get naked and start sucking him off.
He looks up and sees the coffee. Nodding me an acknowledgement, he stands
up and takes a sip.

His face contorts for a second. "Fucking instant coffee?" he says, spitting
it down the toilet and handing it back. "I thought you gay boys had better
taste. Get me some of that Columbian, will you?" He reaches me the
cup. Speechless, I take it. Then I find my voice. "Who the fuck do you
think you are?" I say, shaking with anger. "If you want the good shit, then
do what you were paid to come here and do."

The blue gaze runs icy cold. "Whatever you want," he says. Again, his eyes
drop to the stain in the front of my pyjamas. I feel myself blushing again
as I go out into the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen, breathing
heavily.  I don't know why I'm even obeying him, the bastard.

It's the "gay boys" comment that's making me crazy more than the coffee
thing. I remember the torturous week in Mykonos and slump over the worktop,
my head in my hands. Jamie is big into Pride. He works in an organization
which promotes gay men's sexual health. He goes to a gay friendly gym. All
his friends are gay or female. He even hires gay friendly workmen, although
I have my doubts about the "friendliness" of Mr Kirkland. That holiday was
the first time in my life that people knew something about me just by
looking. They assumed and judged, just as Kirkland is doing. Jamie's whole
life revolves around being gay. I feel as if I have been boxed and packaged
with a nice label stuck across my chest, gay by association.

The marble worktop surface is cool against my cheek and I listen to the
choking noise of the percolator, feeling my consciousness drift, trying to
push the rebellious thoughts from my head.

"That coffee ready? I'm all done up there." A gruff voice from behind. I
sit up, suddenly awake, wiping the drool from the side of my mouth. The
coffee pot is full, my heart is beating fast with the shock of pulling me
awake. I fill a mug and hand it to him. As he's taking it from me, a tremor
shakes my hand and sloshes a bit over his fingers.

"You done that on purpose, you little shit," he says, shaking the scalding
liquid from his hand.

I look at him and suddenly feel fear. I know he isn't playing with me. And
he's so much taller than me, so big and powerful. Maybe he joined the
website with the intention of gay bashing? "No, my hands shake sometimes,"
I stammer. "It's just the medicine I'm taking. I'm sorry, really."

He holds a dirty hand in front of my face. "Lick it off," he says. My mouth
opens to protest and he shoves his burnt fingers in. I taste oil, bitter
coffee. "Suck them," he says. "Just like you sucked your boyfriend's cock
this morning. It's amazing the things you see when you're early for a job."

I stand up and my hands find his arm but I can't get his fingers out of my
mouth and I don't dare bite, he's staring at me with this amused look like
I'm some kind of rat in a lab. His fingers are thick and he fucks my mouth
with them and all I can do is try not to gag. All sorts of vowel sounds are
leaking from the corners of my mouth as I think of him watching Jamie and
me going at it in the kitchen. Being watched doesn't bother me, it's just
being watched by this monster. He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and
clutches my hair so tight a whine slips from my mouth.

His hands are strong and he yanks my pyjama bottoms down and I'm naked in
front of him. I can't meet his eyes. "You have a lot of scars," he says,
taking my hands, turning them palm up so he can get a good look at my
wrists. My body is starting to shake now. I'm scared of what he's going to
do. My phone is lying on the table just meters away but it might as well be
on the other side of the world.

His rough fingertips trace the scars on my wrists, the fainter ones further
up. His touch is like ice, his face inscrutable. I can feel his gaze travel
down to my cock, which is hardening fast. He laughs, a deep throaty
chuckle. "You're all the fucking same," he says, taking my shaft into his
dirty, rough palm and jacking it in time to his
words. "Pathetic...little...shit. You couldn't be faithful if you
tried. Look at you. You make...me...sick." His tight grip, sending
fireworks into my brain.

I'm flooded with shame but I can't help pushing my cock into his hand. He
tightens his grip on my wrists and spins me around, kicking my legs
apart. I hear him fumble with his belt buckle, the snap of a belt. The
tickle of its leather tip over my cock and balls, up my crack, brushing
over my hole. Then suddenly an explosion of pain that rocks my body as the
strap connects with my buttocks, forcing a scream from me. And as soon as
the pain sears into my brain, his soft tongue and breath follow, soothing
the reddened skin, brushing my asshole, tickling my balls.

 I brace myself against the work surface where Jamie made me a casserole
just last night, my fingers clutching the marble in anticipation. The
thought of turning around and telling him to fuck off enters my head but as
the strap connects again, my body tenses and the magnitude of my arousal
blows all thoughts out of my head. "Oh Christ," I mutter. He lashes me
again and again and I tense and scream and gasp. He's laughing at
me. "Pathetic little gay boy," he says as he grabs my dripping cock. "Put
your arms around my neck. I'm going to show you how a man should be
fucked."

I am breathless as my hands lock together behind his neck, and he reaches
behind me, massaging my aching buttocks with his big, callused hands,
lifting me up and carrying me over to the table where he rests me on the
edge. The surface is cool and soothing and I lie back, helpless with lust
as he pulls his cock out of his trousers. It's long and thick, with the
purple head winking out at me from under its hood. I feel the clutch of
desire in my stomach, my balls. He takes his time getting ready, pulling on
the condom so slowly and deliberately, feeling in his pockets for
lube. Finally he's ready and he pulls his t shirt off, revealing his hairy
chest and I long to run my hands over those pecs, to bury my face in that
dark fur. My cock is rigid and weeping as he pushes inside my helpless body
and I can't stop myself from moaning as he leans forward to nibble on my
neck. The friction of his hairy stomach on my shaft is torture as he fills
me up, stretches my hole tight. His breath is hot, his tongue fills my ear
and sends goosebumps all over my skin. "Let go," he whispers, moving inside
me and I feel his cockhead brush against something inside me, which makes
my body jolt.

He straightens up and throws my ankles up over his shoulders. It's been so
long since I bottomed that the pain is intense but still my cock won't go
down. The pleasure from that spot inside, the sounds of his fist yanking at
my dick and letting it slap onto my belly, the stinging from my
buttocks...my brain is starting to overload with sensation and as he hits
his stride, and starts pounding me hard, all I can do is try to brace
myself and hope the table doesn't break under me. I'm completely out of
control and I can do nothing but watch my rigid cock jumping and dribbling
against my stomach as I feel a tightening inside, as my body starts to
clutch that huge cock into a hot tight heaven. Liquid pleasure drains from
all over my body to my cock and balls. He's watching them draw up and
suddenly twists my nipples hard.  The pain sends me over the edge. White
hot spunk bursts out of my cock and my back arches, my hips jerk and I pant
and groan. Before I've even recovered he pulls out of me and forces me down
on my knees. Yanking the condom off, he finishes himself off stabbing that
hard purple flesh through his closed fist until he blows his load all over
my face and hair, then slowly strangles out the last white drips which he
wipes across my lips.

Then he tucks himself all away and pulls his t shirt back on. "Mr Scott
already paid by credit card," he says in a businesslike voice as his cum
stings my eyes and I wipe it off, still naked and trembling on the floor
before him. He has fucked me into a jelly. My hole feels hot and stretched
and where he lashed me is tingling and sore. He slips his belt back on and
runs a hand through his hair. "If there's any more problems with that
shower, just give me a ring."  I can't speak as I watch him
leave. Eventually I struggle to my feet and head upstairs to shower. My
body is covered in marks. I wonder how I will explain it to Jamie when he
comes home.

= = = = =

After I've slept for a few hours, I call Declan, my oldest friend. The only
one I have left who isn't gay, or a friend of JamieandAlex, that two headed
creature I've become a part of. I spare him the details, but tell him I've
just fucked the plumber, and my boyfriend will be home in a few hours.

"Sure how will Jamie find out?" Dec says. I can hear him sucking a polo
mint as usual. Some things will never change. "Anyway aren't gay blokes
like forgiving about shit like that?"

I sigh. "Well there are some...marks." I press my hand against my burning
arse cheeks. There are tooth marks on my neck and shoulders, scratches on
my inner thighs. "As for being forgiving of infidelity...that's where Jamie
is just as straight as the next girl." I feel bad for making a joke out of
it but I don't know how else to handle it. Declan has never seen me in
tears.

He chuckles. "Well you're welcome to come and stay a while if you want," he
says. "I've just got a Wii. Want to have a go?"

"A Wii? Damn! I'd love to," I say. Dec always beats me to the cool stuff. I
think of Jamie and I feel a tidal wave of guilt and self hatred hitting me
suddenly. "But I think I'd better talk it over with him. He won't be too
happy to find out I've shagged the plumber then gone off to play with your
gadgets."

"Yeah he doesn't like me much, does he."

I try to sound convincing. "Of course he likes you," I say
automatically. But Dec's not far from the truth. Jamie hates him, and I
don't really know why. Dec's wife just left him and he's doing a good
enough job of not seeming too miserable about it all.

 "Don't forget we're supposed to go to Ibiza this summer and be a pair of
disgraceful thirty year old gits among all those gorgeous
twentysomethings," he says.

I laugh. "Speak for yourself," I say. I make plans to go over at the
weekend and hang up. The kitchen smells of sex and I open the window. I'm
showered and clean and my body is glowing despite the weight of guilt
pulling at my heart. I catch sight of Kirkland's business card
(satisfaction guaranteed) and smile to myself for a moment as I pull out
Delia Smith and try to decide what to make Jamie for dinner. He might as
well dump me on a full stomach. The thought of losing him doesn't
register. I can't imagine my life without him.

= = = = =

Jamie's home early for a change. We eat in silence. I watch the candlelight
flicker over his face and try not to grit my teeth against the pain from my
strapped arse. For the thousandth time I wish he'd bought more comfortable
chairs instead of these stupid arty farty stools. The pie is burnt and I
force myself to swallow a few forkfuls before pushing it to the side.

"Christ, that's gross," I say, breaking the silence. Jamie laughs and dumps
his plate on top of mine. "Let's get a Chinese," he says. The dimples in
his cheeks tug at my heart and I feel wretched and hypocritical, eating
dinner off the table where I was fucked to oblivion by another man just
hours before.

"Jamie, there's something I have to tell you," I say, closing my eyes and
digging my fingernails into my palms. No point beating about the bush. "I
fucked the plumber."

He freezes, and the smile stays fixed on his face but drops away from his
eyes. His mouth works soundlessly until he forces out one whispered
word. "Why?"

I shrug. "I don't know. One minute he was bitching about the coffee and the
next he had me on the table. It was kind of surreal."

Jamie's eyes flare black and his fists clench. "You mean he fucked you? You
bottomed for some complete stranger when you won't do it for me?" His voice
drops low and the venom in it makes my blood run cold. "You bastard." I see
tears start to glitter in his eyes. But then the hurt leaves his face and
he takes some deep breaths. He turns on the light and blinks for a
second. "Well, you're on new drugs I guess, maybe your judgement is...I
don't know."

Anger splits through my brain. "Jamie it's not all about that!" I've lost
it suddenly, my voice raised. "Will you be angry for Christ's sake and stop
dismissing everything I say or do! Stop fucking...forgiving me!" I feel
like I've opened a festering boil. There will be mess and blood but it's
always better to release the poison. " Maybe the plumber just didn't ask me
if I wanted to bottom, he just did it, just whipped the shit out of me and
fucked me and I couldn't stop him and...fuck! It was the best sex I've had
in a long time because I wasn't controlling every fucking second of it,
like I have to do with you!"

His fist connects with my jaw, sending me spinning back against the
table. Blood spurts from between my fingers, from a cut in my lip. My head
spins and I sit down hard. "You ungrateful fuck!" he screams. "Look at all
the shit I've put up with over the last couple of years, your moods, your
fucking mania, all that bollocks at the police station! Paying off your
credit card! Looking after you all this time and now it's all my fault that
you can't keep your dick in your pants?" The fight goes out of him suddenly
and he sits down and bursts into tears. "I hate you," he says. The words
pierce my heart and suddenly I feel grief like I haven't felt in a long
time.

"I can't be grateful all the time, Jamie, " I say, pulling myself to my
feet. "I love you but...this is an unequal partnership. We live in your
house and hang around with your friends. And then there's my illness
sitting in the corner like a big fucking...pink elephant... that we both
blame every time there's a problem between us." I run my hands through my
hair and sigh. " I don't want to go on gay holidays and drink in gay bars
all the time. I want to do normal things, like I used to. I want us to
talk. We used to talk all the time." I remember those nights in the early
days when we'd fuck like rabbits then talk until dawn, tangled in each
others limbs. That was what I loved most about it all.

"Normal things?" he says, incredulous, and I meet his eyes. "Jamie, we are
normal," I say. "I'm sick of being different and living different. If that
makes me a bad person, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about the plumber." I pause
at the door. "I'm going to Declan's to stay for a while. You know where to
find me if you want to talk."

He doesn't stop me leaving. As my taxi pulls up, I look at him one last
time. He's staring at the burnt pie I made, weeping silently. His tears
pierce my heart like shards of glass. I want to hold him close and tell him
I love him. But I can't. He has a lot to digest and I hope against hope, as
I climb into the taxi, that we can get past this.

= = = = =


Declan isn't surprised to see me. He shows me to his spare room and then we
fall on the Wii like a couple of kids. I'm desperate for the
distraction. We play Prince of Persia on the Playstation and stuff
ourselves with pizza and prawn crackers. Declan drinks a lot but I don't
join in. I have enough drugs to keep me going. He invites some old friends
around, people I've lost touch with over the years of erratic contact. They
look shocked when I tell them that most of the good times we had together
were because I was sick in the head, the debts I gathered, all the times I
was arrested. I hide nothing from them. It's better to scare off the
lightweights in the beginning, than later on when you've come to depend on
them.

I clean Dec's flat while he's at work, trying to make myself useful. I go
to the job market and apply for jobs. Employers tend to run a mile when
they see bipolar disorder written on an application form but I keep
trying. I can't stand sitting around the house. Too much time to think, to
look at the gap in my life that Jamie has left behind. The simple fact is,
I miss him, even though he drives me mad sometimes.

Of course I can't stay at Dec's forever. Two weeks go by and I find myself
a flat. Dec and I are celebrating with a pizza and ice cream when the
doorbell goes.  Dec's delivering the punch line to a joke as I open the
door, laughing. The smile dies on my face. It's Jamie. There are dark
circles under his eyes and he thrusts a bunch of roses into my hand before
pulling me into a tight hug.

I feel his breath hot in my ear and the prick of the thorns against my
chest. "I've been thinking a lot," he whispers, kissing the side of my
head. "I'm sorry for being such a prick. I thought I was giving you control
but...you can't really give, it, you just have to take it, right? Shit, I'm
not making any sense." He sighs. " Just...please give me another chance. I
love you."

His hair smells of kiwi fruit shampoo and his skin is salty against my lips
as I cling to him, tears stinging my eyes as his simple words unravel me. "
I'm sorry." I whisper. "It didn't mean anything with the plumber, you know
that."

He pushes me back and looks into my eyes. " I promise not to forgive you
any more, or blame your illness for your stupid shit." He grins and settles
his lips on my ear and I shiver, feeling the heat of arousal building in my
pants.  He knows exactly where to touch me to get me going. " Say you'll
come home with me. We can get a new place, I don't care. I just want you
there in it. I don't care if you fuck the occasional workman as long as you
do it safe, like."

Pressed against his solid body, I close my eyes as his lips brush against
mine, letting his tongue slide into my mouth. My fingers push through his
hair and stroke the back of his neck. "I'll get my bags." I can't say no to
him when I'm horny.

Jamie and Dec make strained conversation while I'm packing. At least he's
making the effort. I know Dec will miss me. He hasn't lived with anyone
since his wife left and I think he was getting used to having me
around. The Ibiza thing will probably be a disaster, him heartbroken and
getting a divorce and me a nutter...still you only live once. I tell Jamie
about it on the way home. He suggests us taking one week's holiday together
and one week with our other friends. I'm surprised at him but it sounds
good. I feel hopeful that we can make it work.

I know the minute we enter the house that he's been cleaning. He does that
when he's stressed or upset. I know that if I run my hands over any
surface, there will be no dust. A little warmth creeps into my heart and I
watch him humming and smiling as he starts pulling my clothes out of the
bags and arranging them into colours and whites. He doesn't trust me to
wash anything. I'm contemplating jumping on the bed, tearing off his
clothes and fucking him when he gets up and stretches. "Let me get showered
first," he says winking, as if he'd been reading my thoughts.

I don't need any encouragement. I pull off my clothes and sprawl myself
over the quilt, already getting a boner. I play with myself idly as I
listen to the spray of water. "FUUUUCK!!!!" Jamie comes running out of the
ensuite, nipples hard, covered in goosebumps. "The water's freezing!"

"Thermostat must be gone again," I say, pulling him down beside me, licking
the drops of water off his chest and back. It doesn't take a lot to coax
his cock out after the shock of cold water it received. Soon he's gasping
and spurting in my mouth, all thoughts of the shower forgotten. I slide up
his body and slip my tongue into his mouth, playing with his nipple ring,
feeding him his own cum as my cock beats a hot tattoo against his thigh.

"I'll sort out the shower," I whisper in his ear as I move between his
legs, sliding my cock home into his hot, tight ass. I look into Jamie's
eyes as I fuck him, long, slow strokes that I know he likes. The little
whines he gives just make me crazy and soon I'm dumping my load inside him,
feeling his legs locking behind me as he pulls me tight and tells me he
loves me. I really am the luckiest guy in the world, I tell myself, kissing
him deeply. But the shower still needs fixing. I wonder if Mr Kirkland will
be free next Monday.