A Journey (c) 2003 Alex D
Part Three
Sam was browner than before, his wavy hair glinting in the sun. He was wearing a faded t-shirt and cut off jeans which showed off his body to perfection, the swimmer wth his lean thighs and flat, muscular stomach. Even in my sorry state, my body was already reacting to him. How gorgeous he was, framed there in the sunlight, the dimple dancing in and out of his cheek as he chewed his gum. But on closer inspection, he looked worn out and sad, and I wondered what on earth had dragged him back to Krabi.
"Suppose you'd better come in then" I mumbled, sitting up and wishing I had bothered to shave. Hugging my knees to my chest, I looked at him expectantly. I didn't have the energy to be angry with him for running off and leaving me, and even found myself wishing that he hadn't come back at all, because I didn't want to deal with anything he had to stay.
He sat down. "Christ, mate, what happened?" he said, looking me up and down. "You look half starved."
"Been ill" I mumbled, not wanting to elaborate.
He stared at me for a second, then looked down at the floor. "I was so glad when I called the hotel and they said you were still here" he said eventually. "It was a shitty thing to do, running off like that."
"Yeah, it was."
There was a silence. Finally he smiled and the dimple appeared, and my heart made a slow and painful movement in my chest. "You aren't going to make this easy, are you" he remarked. "Well, why don't I start at the beginning." He got up and began to pace the room. "God, it's stuffy in here. Want me to open the window?"
"Whatever. You were saying...?"
He pushed the window open, and sighed. "First of all, Greg's not just a friend. He's my step brother." Sitting down beside me, he took my hand. "I don't know what your experience has been, I mean, if you ever told your family about...well, being..."
"Sexually deviant?" I finished for him, smiling faintly. "Why would I tell them?"
Sam looked puzzled. "Well, so you could...I dunno" he blushed and looked at the floor.
A memory of my late father, right out of the blue, edged in past the clouds in my head. He had been an unsophisticated country man who'd spent all his Sundays listening to Presbyterian fire and brimstone services, and all his waking hours slaving away in his little carpenter's workshop, making beautiful furniture which no one appreciated any more. He had never owned a television or watched a movie (they were "the devil's tools"), so I had been astonished to find him one Sunday afternoon, near the end of his life, sitting by the window in the pale winter sunshine, reading a biography on John Nash that I'd borrowed from the local library. I remembered the confusion on his face when I hugged him and took it off him. "That man is a Homo-sexual and Possessed by the devil..." he had said, scratching his head. "...And you were never any good at maths anyway. Why do you read such things?" I could hear the tick tick of the ancient grandfather clock in the hall as I looked out of the window at the green fields and the mountains beyond, wondering what to tell him...
...and Sam was tapping me on the arm. "Where did you go?" he asked, half amused.
I told him what I'd been thinking about. "There was no point saying anything" I said. "He wouldn't have understood." I couldn't tell Sam, as I hadn't been able to tell my father, that I wasn't remotely interested in John Nash's sexuality, but that I had been afraid of something altogether more serious.
Sam looked out of the window. His eyes were sad, his expression distant. Suddenly I longed to hold him in my arms, but conscious of how bad I smelt, I stayed where I was. His grip on my hand tightened slighty. "Greg's father married my mother when we were about twelve" he went on. "To cut a long story short, Howard- Greg's dad- was a drunk. He used to knock my mother about, but Greg got it worse than any of us. Then one day, when I was about fourteen, Howard found a gay magazine in our room. It was mine, of course, I'd stolen it from the shop, I was too embarrassed to buy the damn thing, then when I got it home I couldn't even look at it...and anyway, Howard went ballistic. He...he was insane, I'd never seen him so angry, he was screaming at us, throwing stuff round, my mother was crying, I was terrified, and when he asked us whose it was, I... I told him it was Greg's."
He fell silent, and my heart swelled with sympathy. Tentatively, I put my arm around him, and his shoulders slumped. "Bet you think I'm a right shit" he muttered, his head in his hands. " There was no time for Greg to argue. Howard went for him" he continued, his eyes unfocussed, obviously seeing the whole nasty scene playing again in his mind. "He grabbed a knife and went for him. But Greg took that beating and never said a word, even when Howard slashed his face... He took it...for me. And...he used it, for years afterwards, to get me to do whatever he wanted. Even now, I feel...bound to him, out of guilt, I suppose. That's why I had to go after him, to make things right. "
I stared at him, wondering what on earth I could say to make him feel better. But nothing sprang to mind so I stroked his hair, feeling glum. " Did it work?" I asked. "Did you make things right?"
He looked at me, his eyes full of despair. "You've seen the scar on his face" he said. "How can I ever make that right?"
After Sam had offloaded the whole sorry episode, he seemed a lot happier, buzzing round and clearing up the mess I had made. And, perversely, so was I. Hearing other people's problems always made me feel better about my own. I got up, ready to clean up. But I was dizzy from lack of food, and Sam had to help me into the shower. I wasn't complaining, of course.
"This beard has got to go" he muttered, soaping me up. The feel of his hands all over me was soothing, and I submitted to his vigorous scrubbing without a murmur, staring at the ceiling as he shaved me. It felt great to be clean after so long, as if I was physically shedding the black mood I'd been wallowing in. He even managed to rub some life into my cock, which had apparently gone into hibernation again. He looked down at it and winked at me.
"Save that for later." he said. "Right now, you're going to eat something. I don't want people thinking my boyfriend's some kind of anorexic supermodel with a heroin habit."
"A supermodel?" I spluttered in disbelief, laughing aloud for the first time in ages, while my ears pricked up at the mention of the words "my boyfriend." So he didn't think I was just a holiday shag, good. Seemed like some progress was being made, and I felt a little flag of excitement unfurl in my belly. I checked myself out in the mirror as I left the bathroom. With the weight loss, my cheekbones were more pronouced than usual, and I looked feeble and drugged up. Just the right look for a supermodel, I smiled to myself as I got dressed. My ex used to say I looked like a grown up Harry Potter, only with more impressive scars. I imagined that somewhere in between those two extremes lay the truth, that I was just an ordinary looking bloke with some incredible good luck in partners.
Outside, in the fresh air, I breathed deeply, gazing around at the little huts, the palm trees, the flowers. I was calm, not crazy or depressed like before, and it felt good. Sam took my hand and we walked down to the beach. The sun was setting, my favourite time of the day, and the last of the sunbathers were getting packed up, ready to leave. We chose a table at a small fish restaurant, and sat together in silence, looking out over the sea, listening to the noise of the waves.
The waiter came, and I ordered swordfish, the most expensive thing on the menu. Sam looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Have you had that before?" he asked.
"Nah, but you get a shedload of it" I said, remembering Alice once munching her way through two portions and smiling. "I could eat a fucking whale, but they didn't have any on the menu."
There was a silence. Our beers arrived and Sam lifted his glass, grinning. "Here's to good times in Thailand" he said. "I'll drink to that" I replied, clinking my glass against his and taking a huge gulp. And for the first time in what felt like ages, I felt as if good times really were ahead.
That night, with a gutful of swordfish and half a bottle of wine making my head spin, I fell into bed beside Sam, feeling as if I was home again. He snuggled up behind me, arms holding me tightly. Through the fog of impending sleep, I could feel his breath on my neck, the hardness of his prick pressing into my ass as he stroked my hair and nibbled softly on my ear. "I'm not in the mood" I whispered, yawning, my skin breaking out in goosebumps all the same as his soft fingertips brushed against the hairs on my chest. "Sure you aren't" he said, as he found my nipple and teased it into a hard little point.
"Mmm" I muttered sleepily, my dick starting to stiffen despite my earlier statement. He ran a finger down the shaft and began to tickle my balls. I could feel the need for him begin to burn in my blood, and as his hand took hold of my cock, I let out a sigh of contentment. "Still not in the mood?" he whispered wickedly dipping his tongue in my ear and making me shiver.
As I turned to answer, he released me and pushed me onto my back. Propping himself up onto his elbow, he traced my mouth with his finger. "Let me make it up to you" he said softly, kissing me lightly on the cheek. "For buggering off like that."
His face was hard to see in the darkness, but I could feel the fierce heat of his suntanned skin inches away from me, and the fresh smell of his sweat made my stomach tighten with lust. "Go ahead then" I whispered, smiling to myself as he edged closer, until I could feel his breath against my neck. He kissed me on the cheek again, and started planting tiny kisses around my neck and jaw, as his gentle hands stroked me all over. The touch of his lips felt like butterflies landing lightly on my skin, and when he brushed his mouth against mine, I was longing for him, my heart pounding painfully in my chest.
His tongue burrowed into my mouth as he kissed me, hot and slow, and my arms wrapped round him, pulling him on top of me. He broke the kiss, his breathing shallow as he snaked down my body, trailing his tongue down my chest until he found my nipple, pausing there for a moment while he lapped and sucked, making me gasp with desire. I buried my fingers in his thick, soft hair, each pull of his mouth on my nipple forcing a matching pull in my groin, and when his hot mouth reached my cock, it was rock hard and leaking...I lay back as he began to lick the dribbles of precum off the tip, groaning softly as he took it into his mouth.The feeling of heat and wetness sent shivers of pleasure up my spine and into my brain, the flicks of his tongue and his hot breath on my most sensitive spots driving me wild as I spread my legs to let him have his wicked way with me. I surrendered myself totally to his mouth and fingers as he engulfed my stiff prick in his mouth, sucking gently, pulling and stroking my balls with his hand.
For someone supposedly so inexperienced, he was pretty damned good at it, and I was panting fit to burst, with cum boiling up inside me as he sat up, leaving me at the brink. I moaned incoherently as he pushed my legs up to my chest and slid a pillow under my hips, and seconds later I felt his tongue nudging gently at my hole. "Oh God" I whispered as fireworks went off inside me, the tip of his tongue pushing inside me, followed by a finger as his tongue went back to work on my rod, so gently and softly that he held me there at the edge of orgasm for what seemed like an eternity. In the darkness, it felt as if all that mattered in the world were the sensations coming from my ass and cock, the movement of his finger inside me. As the tip of his finger started to massage my prostate, I squeezed my eyes shut as an earth-shattering climax tore through my body, making me cry out as I pumped load after load of cum all over myself, totally lost to the world.
As I basked in the afterglow, my body tingling, Sam slid up and buried his face in my hair, wrapping his arm round me. "Was that OK?" he muttered.
I tried to catch my breath for a second. "Yeah, it was OK" I smiled, rolling onto my side to face him, so we were inches apart. "Don't tell me you haven't done that before, though."
"Suppose you could say I'm a natural" he said in a tone of mock-modesty.
I grinned. "Well in that case, Mr Pornstar, maybe you'd care to show me some more of your talents."
"Thought you'd never ask" he laughed, and kissed me again.
The next day, exhausted after a night of practically non-stop fucking, we packed up and checked out. Much as I had loved Krabi, five weeks there had been more than enough. I got a sniffy email from my best friend Dee. "Your mother told me of your whereabouts" he wrote "and I have to say YOU'RE A BASTARD!!!!!!! Your birthday party was great by the way. Got off with a fabulous eighteen year old dancer, so can't say I missed your sour face much. Bring back one of those lovely Thai boys for me, and take care of yourself, old man." I grinned as I read it, relieved. Old man indeed.
Jessica had also sent me a message, telling me all about their PADI course and how much they loved Ko Samui. "We might stay for another week" she wrote. "Are you coming?" So I suggested to Sam that we go, and he readily agreed.
It was quite an eventful journey with the bus breaking down, someone regurgitating their breakfast all over the aisle, leaving an unappealing aroma in the air, and kids screaming practically the whole way, and by the time we had arrived in Ko Samui from the overnight ferry, I was in no mood to go trudging round looking for cheapo accomodation.
Jessica had left directions on how to find their place since Chaweng beach was so big, so we checked into a posh place with air conditioning that was right round the corner from theirs. It had the feel of a safari lodge, all wooden roofs just visible over palm trees and bushes. It even had a swimming pool, even though it was 15 metres from a beautiful beach. I felt like splashing out. Sam seemed horrified when he saw how much our room was to cost, and I remembered Greg commenting on how stingy he was. A minor imperfection, I thought, watching his arse moving seductively under his jeans as he went up the stairs ahead of me.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay somewhere cheaper?" Sam whined, a stricken expression on his face. As the bellboy opened the door to our room, we were dazzled by sunlight. It was gorgeous, light and airy with huge sliding doors that led to the balcony which overlooked the whole of the bay, the white sand, the palm trees, the amazing blue water... the kind of view you don't get tired of looking at. The room was spacious, king size double bed, a shining bathroom with enormous bath and loads of soapy stuff to steal. I turned to Sam and grinned. "This is on me" I said, chucking my backpack in the wardrobe. "I've got quite a bit of money, you know. You might say I'm a bloody good catch." It was true: the bit about the money, that was. My dad had left a surprisingly large amount of it. His life's work, sitting in the bank account of a notorious spendthrift. But I figured it was time to do a little more living, after a boring year of struggling away for peanuts and wondering what it was all for.
Sam stared at me for a bit, his mouth open. "I'm not lying" I said, laughing and putting my arms round him. How good it felt to be close to him, to inhale the faint aroma of his shampoo and feel the heat of his skin. We sat together for a second, wrapped in each other's arms. I wanted to tell him everything, but I didn't know where to start. It seemed like every time it got personal, the lies and bullshit just started pouring out of my mouth. An idea struck me. I got up and fumbled in my bag until I found what I was looking for, my tattered little journal. I handed it to Sam. "Read it" I said quickly, before I changed my mind. "If you want to be with me, I want you to know what you're getting into."
"What?" he said, looking at it like it was a meteorite from space that had just landed in his lap. "I mean, I can't! It's...not right."
"There's a lot of things that aren't right" I murmured, looking out at the sea. I thought about my ex and sighed. "I WANT you to read it. I want you to know me. I mean, maybe I'm jumping the gun a bit here, but..." I couldn't finish. I looked at him again, wondering how on earth I could ever keep him in my life. And I wanted that more than anything, I realised, as I watched him turn my journal over in his hands. He was everything I wanted: funny, intelligent, and gorgeous to boot. Was if possible that he liked me as much as I liked him?
Curiosity had obviously got the better of him. He smiled. "Guess I should return the favour" he said, "But I don't keep a diary. My life's way too boring."
"That's OK" I laughed." Why don't you get started. I'm going to soak in that gorgeous bath for a bit."
Alone in the bathroom, I felt antsy and nervous as I watched the bath fill with soapy water. What if he decided to bugger off again? It wasn't every man who wanted to be saddled with someone who'd spent a summer in a mental hospital labelled as a "serious suicide risk". I had never been any good at saying what I wanted to say. At least this way I wouldn't have to. He could read it and make up his mind without listening to any lies and bullshit. Just me, warts and all. If he didn't like what he read, then at least I could pick up and get on with things with a minimum of stress. At least, that's what I tried to tell myself as I got into the bath and slid under the hot water, cocooning myself momentarily from the world. I knew I was dangerously close to being in love again, and I couldn't just let the chance of happiness slide by. Not again.
When I finally emerged from the bath, shrivelled like a prune after having fallen asleep for god knows how long, Sam was still sitting on the bed. My journal was closed in his lap.
"That was quick" I remarked, trying to appear nonchalant.
He smiled. "I only read the first page" he said, patting the bed for me to sit down beside him. "But you know...I'd rather get to know you the conventional way, mate. You know, conversation, wine dine and sixty nine, all that stuff. And also..." he handed my journal back to me with a big sunny smile and a wink..." I'm not letting you off talking to me."
I laughed. He had me sussed already.
He hugged me suddenly, nearly squeezing the breath out of me. "Thank you for waiting for me" he whispered.
I could hardly respond that it had been my pleasure, so I just hugged him back, feeling secure in his arms. Amazing, how after such a short time, I could hardly imagine what my life had been like without him. The feel of his hard muscles under the cotton t-shirt made me sigh with longing. Slowly, I pushed the material up over his head, and he got the hint and pulled the t-shirt off. lying back onto the soft bed. With a tan, he looked good enough to eat. I buried my nose in the soft hair of his armpit, inhaling his scent deeply. My cock stirred in the confines of my shorts, and I sighed.
"You like that?" he whispered, his expression dubious. "I thought I was a bit ripe."
I laughed and pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh" I murmured, my heart pounding as I looked into those beautiful brown eyes. His lips were soft and warm as I kissed him dreamily, almost wanting to pinch myself to see if I wasn't off in some fantasy world. My arms slid round him as I pulled him on top of me. It felt perfect, having him ease between my legs, taking control. I had always hated being the submissive partner during sex, not because it felt bad, but because I couldn't let go... with Sam, it wasn't even an issue. As the kiss grew more passionate, he yanked my towel off and I wrapped my legs around him, feeling the hardness of his groin digging into me. He broke the kiss and looked down at me, cheeks flushed. "Have you got..." he started, and I pointed to my toiletry bag on the bedside table and smiled. He got up and pulled off his shorts, and I watched as he grabbed the bag and started groping around inside, his magnificent cock rearing up from a nest of bushy pubic hair. He pulled out the necessary items and grinned.
Seconds later we were back in position, his tongue in my mouth and his slippery rod nudging against my arse. He pushed my legs up as far as he could, stretching my arms up above my head, all the time driving me wild with his mouth on mine, his tongue in my ear, flicking over my nipples..."God" I whispered, panting as I felt the head of his thick cock press against my hole, felt my sphincter give way.., and I could see our reflections in the mirrored doors of the wardrobe. My legs were in the air, balanced on his arms, I could see his cock pushing inside me, his hard, white ass and his big, hairy balls, his perfectly muscled back and legs...my head sank back on the pillow as I closed my eyes, feeling my arse stretching to accomodate him, slowly, slowly...he kissed me again, roughly, and I gasped with delight as I felt his balls come to rest against me. I was completely invaded by him, full of his cock, his tongue, my love and desperate desire for him, his skin hot against mine and my cock rigid and throbbing against my stomach..."Fuck me" I groaned, and he began, slowly at first, in and out, in and out, nudging my prostate which made my body break out in tingly goosebumps.
Soon he was slamming into me, the bed was squeaking rather too loudly but I didn't care, all that mattered was the incredible feelings coursing through my body as I held onto him, feeling his muscles work as he pistoned in and out, his balls slapping against me, my prostate sending shocks of pleasure into my brain...I felt as if I was going to explode when he stopped, breathing heavily and sweating. "What are you doing" I gasped out as he sat up, keeping me impaled on his bulging dick.
He took my weeping cock into his hand and a groan escaped my throat at his touch. "I want to feel you cum" he whispered, and began to jack me off. Lying there at his mercy, it didn't take long, a few strokes through his tight fist and I could feel the orgasm building up inside me...I erupted with an involuntary cry, as my cock began to pump out thick ropes of cum, all over my chest and stomach: all the while, I felt him buried inside me as my inner muscles spasmed around his dick, clamping him there like he had no right to leave. As the aftershocks subsided, my skin began to glow and tingle, and as he finished off, thrusting swiftly into my body, he groaned as he dumped his load deep inside me, again, again, again...then it was over and he collapsed, crushing me, his chest heaving. I kissed his shoulder and stroked his hair softly as he recovered his breath.
He struggled up onto his elbows, looking at me with a dazed expression on his face. "Wow " he said, kissing me and getting gently off me. As he moved to lie beside me, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, covered in my own cum, my hair a mess and my face flushed. A picture of pure satisfaction. I grinned and snuggled up beside him.
There was a comfortable silence as we lay in each others arms. I was about to doze off when he said "You know, you write pretty well. From what I saw, anyway."
I raised my head sleepily. "What?"
He smiled at me. "Remember you told me you were a writer."
I shrugged sheepishly. "I was just trying to make myself more interesting. Beats the hell out of administrative assistant. Which is Posh for 'thicko desk jockey who's not trusted with any serious work and who spends all day surfing the internet behind his boss's back.' " I sounded bitter, but I wasn't: after all who'd give a responsible job to someone with my sick record?
He laughed. "Don't put yourself down, mate. I never did tell you what my job was either" he said, nuzzling my hair.
"Well, don't keep me in suspense. You were a porn star?"
"Hardly" he laughed again. "Histopathologist. It's not the best chat up line, for sure." He tried to look modest.
"You what?" I was mystified. " Like, cutting bodies up?"
"Well, in the crudest sense, I suppose that's what it involves" he grinned. "But it's mostly lab work,studying tissue samples and that. Guess you're a layman when it comes to medicine, so I'll not bore you with the details..." he looked down the bed at the mirror at the reflection of our entwined bodies, caught my eye in it and winked "in our present situation."
"Sounds interesting" I said, although it didn't. Suddenly a computer keyboard seemed more appealing.
"Well, that makes a change..." he looked pleased. "My ex thought it was creepy. She wouldn't ever let me cook. Said she didn't know where my hands had been. "
Not wanting to imagine that thought, I asked, "So...how come you packed it in?"
He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me, smiling. "Just taking a sabbatical for six months" he said. "I was such a workaholic,and we were understaffed, so I got totally stressed out. Then Lauren dumped me. Kind of the icing on the cake. I swear, I was heading straight for the funny farm, mate, no joke. So the consultant told me to take a hike for a bit, you know, clear my head. Time to spend a bit more time with the living, I suppose. You know..." he gently traced the scars on my wrist then seemed to lose himself in exploring the topography of my skin, following the veins up my arm to the small tattoo of a demon on my left shoulder; I squirmed as he trailed his fingertips down my chest, tickling the hairs on my chest, dipping into my navel and pausing at my appendix scar, pushing my thighs apart to find the faint scarring from a burn that nearly ruined my family jewels when I was only six. Like he was reading me somehow. "Beautiful" he murmured."You know, every body tells its own story. It's fascinating work, actually."
"What does mine tell you?"
He looked down at my stiffening prick. "That you're a horny bastard?" he chuckled. "You know, when you fell asleep against me on the plane, I didn't feel uncomfortable or annoyed. It just felt...right, like you'd always been there.Then I nearly cocked it all up by falling asleep on you that first night and then chickening out about doing anything, as usual. I was sure you'd have done a runner."
"No chance" I whispered, stroking his cheek. "No chance of that at all. Not then, not now." Bizarrely, I felt like crying, so I took a deep breath to get rid of the knot that was forming in my throat. "Not ever." I closed my eyes and settled my lips softly against his neck, feeling the faint throb of his pulse. " I love you," I mouthed against his skin, tasting the salt from his sweat, hoping he knew what I was saying, because I didn't know if I could ever tell him the depth of the feeling that was growing inside me.
Epilogue
We've been together, a year now and counting. Five months in Thailand and the rest in London when Sam went back to work. And he's a stayer, thankfully. He's been with me through some of the best and worst moments of my life, and he's still here, still trying to interest me in hearing about his job, and trying to stop me going mad with my savings and credit card. He gets this cute pained expression every time he sees that I've been shopping. Still as tight as a duck's arse, but then the habits you learn when you're growing up are hard to break, and god knows, he had a rough ride. Greg's been over to visit, still an annoying little bastard but at least he apologised. And my mother adores my new "flatmate" so things are sweet right now, especially after the I got the diagnosis I've been waiting for all my life, but as Sam would say, you're probably a layman so I won't bore you with the details. But I'll be all right.
I met Sam's ex at a party one night, and she confided that she hadn't liked him cooking, not because of his job but because he sucks in the kitchen. And I have to agree, as one more burnt, rubber omlette finds its way secretly into the bin. It just makes me love him more.
I've often thought about what he said to me that day when we arrived in Ko Samui, about writing, and so I thought I'd give it a go.
So this is it. This is our story.
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All feedback and comments are welcome! email me at alex_d0uglas@yahoo.co.uk